She chokes.
Memories, I guess.
“Who eats ice cream like that?” She asks, smiling.
“Someone with a lot of experience,” I say with a chuckle.
“Hmmm,” she hums as we walk toward the car.
We drive back to the house in silence. Gravel crunches under the tires as I pull in. The engine dies, and for a second neither of us moves.
As soon as we step inside, she turns to me. “Wait here, I have something for you.”
Before I can ask anything, she is already gone, disappearing toward the staff kitchen.
I stay in the middle of the hallway, hands in my pockets, listening to the faint sounds of drawers opening. It hasn’t even been a minute when she appears in front of me again, a little out of breath. She bites her lip and holds out a folded piece of paper, pinched between her fingers like it matters.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“I started writing them when I didn’t know you,” she says. “And I finished them when I was in the middle of remembering you.” She presses her lips together for a second. “So I have five ways how to kill you, but also five ways how I would kill you if you ever leave me.”
A laugh slips out of me. I take the paper and unfold it.
I swallow, my eyes lifting slowly from the paper to her face.
“Wow.” My brows rise as I scan her face, the softness of her expression, the way she stands there like she just handed me a love letter. “You really thought about this?”
She nods, her lips pressed tight, almost shy.
“I’m afraid, Kitten,” I say quietly, stepping closer until there is barely any space left between us. “And remind me to never let you cook.”
I don’t want rat poison in my food if I ever make her mad.
I let out a long breath. “I’m speechless.”
I’m trying very hard not to say the wrong thing.
Damn.
She steps closer and places a tiny box in my hands. I open the lid, and all the color drains from my face. A bone is inside with a wedding ring on it, and if I recognize it right, it belonged to Lilibeth.
I snap the box shut and drag both hands down my face, like maybe that will wake me up.
Then I look at her again, because this is real. This is very real. She dug up my dead wife’s grave, took her finger, and brought it to me the same way I gave her Daniel’s hand bones.
My heart pounds as I search for the right words, but all that comes out is, “What’s this, Kitten?” I give her a strained smile. “Are you proposing?”
She shrugs. “I thought it would be a nice touch, considering we both had unresolved issues with our exes.”
“Right,” I say with a smile, slipping the box into my back pocket.
“You need a nice bath to cool you off, Kitten.” I reach for her hand, but she darts toward the front door.
I go after her.
She is laughing by the time she reaches the yard, already running toward the cliffs. This time I barely caught up to her.She flies down the stairs like she already knows the way, and I follow right behind.
I haven’t been here in a while.
