Better than I had hoped.
Watching Stella stand up to her parents had been like witnessing the final cut of a diseased umbilical cord. Brutal, maybe—but necessary.
And I couldn’t have been prouder of her.
Another exaggerated groan drifted from the bedroom.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and headed toward the bedroom, expecting to find her tangled in the sheets with one hand between her legs.
When I reached the bedroom, Stella wasn’t touching herself, quite the contrary—she lay in the middle of the bed, legs closed and arms stretched out like she was waiting to be pinned on a cross.
“Ughhhh,” she groaned loudly.
I nudged her foot.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Ugh. What’s wrong with the world?” she grumbled.
“Why don’t you tell me,” I said tugging my T-shirt off.
“Be desirable, but not too sexual. Be attractive, but not too thirsty. Be feminine, but not powerful. Why is it that women are always so fucked?”
“Ah, we can’t control society, but we can make a difference through healing.”
“Hmph. I think my mother needs some healing,” she said, opening one eye.“Are you going to impregnate me or what?”
“What?” I asked, stunned by her question.
“We need to create a different breed of people,” she said lifting her head off the pillow.
“Shouldn’t we get married first?” I asked, scratching my head to wonder how she had managed to flip the switch on me.
“Why would we need to get married?” she asked with a frown.
“Legal protection. What if something happened to me?”
She sat upright.
“Aren’t you adorable?” she said with a grin.
I shook my head.
“What about the pill?”
“I can stop tomorrow. We can practice tonight,” she said, patting the space beside her.“Unless you’re tired.”
I growled and dove onto the bed. Her shrieks of laughter filled our bedroom.
My perfect little filthy girl.
???
What a day at work. It had been appointment after appointment, each one bleeding into the next until my head felt stuffed with other people’s problems.
I set my case beside the door and shrugged out of my coat.
“Coo-eee, we’re in here!”
