Page 68 of Miserable Marionette

When I finally lift my eyes to him, he’s blurry, but he’s sitting there, kneeling in front of me, and for a moment, I’m swallowed whole by the utter devotion in his eyes. The intense, unyielding adoration. I was stupid… to have ever thought for a second that this man, the boy he was before, hadn’t loved me.

32

A Wedding For A Doll

Audrey, Thirteen Years Old, 1981

I run my fingers through the pile of loose scrap lace strewn around Gideon’s bedroom floor where we’ve been sitting for the past hour. Ensuring everything he does matches the design in my sketchpad perfectly. The pad itself is propped against his bed, and the second he reaches for it or even thinks about flipping through, I’m taking the pad and jolting. After I got over here this morning, I realized I probably could’ve just ripped the page out, but I hate doing that, so it stays. Gideon gnaws on his lip as he passes the needle through the fabric again, his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. I don’t mean to hover, not that Gideon minds, but either way, this is just too important to leave in the hands of a boy. All of Krissy’s dresses are special, but this one is even more so.

It’s her wedding dress.

I’ve spent the first three days of spring break planning it tediously. Everything must go absolutely perfectly; I mean, it’s her big day!

“Gid, I’m home!” Mr. Bell calls from downstairs.

Gideon barely reacts, his focus on the task at hand, so I call back for him. “Welcome home, Mr. Bell. We’re planning a wedding!”

Just then his head pops inside the cracked door, making me jump and slam my sketchpad down. It slams sure, but right into Gideon’s hands, making him finally look up long enough to glare at me. I just give him a quick I’m sorry face and turn back to his dad.

“Wedding planning, huh? Nice change of pace for this house. When are you two tying the knot then?”

I blanch. “Me and Gideon?! Oh no—"

“Why not?” Gideon asks, his eyes firmly on me.

My cheeks flush so hot they hurt as I stare forward like his striped sheets and lava lamp are going to help my brain work.

Mr. Bell laughs. “Don’t be discouraged, son. I asked your mom to marry me three times before she said yes.” With that, he heads back out the door, leaving me and my thundering heart alone with Gideon.

I nearly yelp when he speaks again, finding his eyes still on me, the needle halfway passed through the silky white fabric I picked out at the alterations shop last week. Mrs. Johnson always gives Gideon scrap fabrics for my dolls’ dresses. When I saw the beautiful swatch, I knew immediately what dress it would be. “I wouldn’t need to ask three times, would I, Audrey?”

I try to laugh, but it falls a little flat. “Stop joking around. Weddings are important to girls. Mine will be the biggest wedding Swindon has ever seen.”

Gideon just stares at me, and I can practically see the gears turning in his strange head. “I’ll need to start saving then.”

“Why?” I whisper, my heartbeat nearly drowning out the sound of my own voice.

Finally, his attention turns back to the dress. “Weddings are even more expensive than funerals.”

I make a noncommittal oh sound before I let my forehead drop into the crook of my arm where I’m splayed out on my stomach on the floor. The same stomach that dips and swirls with flutterflies as I hide my face, wondering if someone’s heart can beat through their chest. If Gideon doesn’t stop, it’ll be my funeral he’s paying for.

Audrey, Present Day, 1994

One Week Later

Despite myself, my cheeks flush as I walk through the side parking lot of the alterations shop with Gideon’s hand clasped in mine. It seems like a stupid thing to be self-conscious of considering the way he licked up my sex just twenty minutes ago, but this is different. It’s a public declaration, the confirmation of a decade-old rumor. It’s me finally getting what I’ve always wanted—the weird boy from across the street. Not that we haven’t had each other long before this, but somehow a simple gesture like the way he opened up my car door, grasping my hand in his the second it was free from unhooking my seatbelt, makes it seem so much more… real. Tangible. Like maybe, just maybe if I’ve repaid whatever bad debt I’d incurred in the universe, I might get to keep him this time. Like a happy ending was possible, just maybe.

I’m lost in my own thoughts, my eyes glued to my scuffed boots as he leads me toward the door when the bells that hang above it jingle, Gideon pulling to an abrupt halt. My head snaps up, immediately meeting the gaze of Detective Altman, his eyes shadowed by the bill of his dark brown cowboy hat.

Shit.

I open up my mouth to smooth over whatever unpleasant greeting Gideon is no doubt about to deliver when his soft, adoring grip on my hand turns painful.

“You’re really getting around, Detective Altman,” Gideon offers, not making a move toward the door.

The smile that blooms on the older man’s face is downright wolfish. “Yes, well, you know me. I’m nothing if not dutiful. The Jordans seem unsettled. I promised I’d swing back by to check on things.”

Gideon’s answering smile makes the detective’s look adorable, and dear lord, I’m suffocating on testosterone. “A four-thousand-mile round trip for an overdose is quite the commitment. We can only hope your caseload isn’t suffering for it.”