TERINA
Present
Ouch.
I made a promise to your brother.
DiAngelo’s statement made it clear that everything he’s doing is out of duty rather than any true affection for me. I’ve known that from the beginning, so why does it sting so bad?
I’m a job to him. An obligation. And that’s how it should be.
I shouldn’t want to be anything more.
Heartache is the direct result of attachment, which is why I avoid relationships. No matter how tempting that sense of comfort I experience in his presence, DiAngelo is not for me. I force myself to remember that as I settle into my new temporary home.
His apartment is lovely and surprisingly cozy. I chalked him up to the industrial loft type, but there are no concrete floors or exposed ductwork in his place. In fact, the walls are painted a muted forest green, and the oversized sofa in a soft velour fabric could comfortably seat a small family for movie night. Sheer drapes frame the large windows, softening the harsh city lightsand summer sun. Sandy colored wood on the floor gives the place an almost forested feel.
It’s surprisingly … peaceful.
Being forced from home is nerve-racking, but staying here isn’t a hardship, aside from near constant proximity to the home’s owner. Living with DiAngelo is going to be an adventure.
I survey the bedroom while I unpack. He has a ginormous California king bed. I’ve never seen such a huge bed, though it suits his size.
I’ll be sleeping in DiAngelo’s bed. My head isn’t sure what to do with that information. I keep trying to tell myself it’s just a bed, but the butterflies in my stomach disagree.
Before long, I have all but a few items unpacked. I had no idea how long I’d be here, so I brought more than I probably should have. Specifically, the two items I left in my suitcase. A candle and a lighter. It was weak of me to bring them. I swore to myself I wouldn’t use them, but I felt compelled to bring them anyway. That doesn’t bode well for my resolve.
Not wanting to think about it, I zip up the suitcase and stash it in the closet. My clothes are hanging next to his. My toiletries are on his bathroom vanity.
I snicker at the absurdity because my life feels like an AI deepfake. I am Alice in Wonderland without a clue how I got here.
“Cleaners were just here two days ago,” DiAngelo says when he joins me, “but you won’t hurt my feelings if you want clean sheets.”
The bed isn’t made, but it’s not a mess either. A soft burgundy duvet is neatly folded back, revealing crisp cream-colored sheets. As clean as it seems, my natural tendency would still be to ask for fresh sheets, but that’s not what pops out of my mouth.
“It’s fine as it is,” I say, somewhat dumbfounded by my own words because I know the motive behind them. I’m embarrassed to put words to the feelings, and I’d never admit the thoughts out loud, but I want to know what it’s like to wrap myself in his scent. To lay my head where his has rested and feel the comfort of his presence while I sleep.
See, I sound like a freak.
Fortunately, he doesn’t press the issue or pass judgment. He wordlessly leads us back out to the living room, where I continue making friends with Bonny. She’s cute as a button with her floppy ears and perky tail that curves up in the air like an extension of her smile.
We have a quiet day at home. No yoga. Just television and scrolling, which is a nice change of pace. I even manage to coerce Bonny onto the sofa to watch movies with me.
“Bonny, you know you’re not supposed to be on the sofa,” DiAngelo says in a low warning tone.
The dog looks from him to me, then rests her large, round head on my lap as though begging for me to champion her cause.
I’ve always been a proponent of animal rights.
“Don’t be like that. She’s doing such a great job making me feel at home. So attentive and protective. She wasn’t about to let someone bust through that door and hurt me.”
He shoots me a look. “Bonny,down.” His command brooks no argument.
The poor dog lurches off the sofa and skulks toward him.
“That was mean,” I mutter.
“She’s a guard dog, not a companion. You defeat the purpose of her if you soften her edge.”
