Page 77 of Malachi and I


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“Ahh…” I cried out as I broke away from h

im. I was shaking and trying to breathe, trying to stand, but I couldn’t seem to do either any longer. All of me hurt. He held on to me tightly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I have you,” he whispered. “I’ve always had you, Esther. I always will.”

My mind went blank and the pain stopped.

17. THE BLITZ

ESTHER

I sat up on my bed like I’d come up from the grave and looked around. Thankfully, I saw the giant windows of my room which overlooked the bright city lights. I was seated in the middle of my bed, still dressed in the gold beaded dress from the…the gala. Running my fingers over the beading, all the memories of this night came into my mind, and the more I remembered, the further my fingers rose until I was touching my lips.

“Shit!”

My head snapped towards the door as I slowly slid off my bed and tiptoed across the floor. I tried to silently open it but I’d forgotten how badly and loudly it squeaked—something that had served my grandfather as a safety precaution if I ever tried to sneak out. I closed my eyes as if that would make me disappear.

“You don’t have to sneak around, it’s your house,” he said and I immediately recognized his voice.

I opened my eyes to make sure my ears weren’t playing a cruel joke on me, and sure enough there he was, standing in my kitchen in what was left of his suit—his black pants, white shirt which was rolled up on at the selves and unbuttoned at the collar, and his bow tie which was undone. In his hands, he held my yellow mug.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was looking for coffee,” he snickered at himself.

I stared at him for a quick moment before I stepped back and closed the door. Holding on to the door knob I took a deep breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

When I opened the door, he was still there staring at me, eyebrows raised. “Good to see you’re still a little bit odd.”

“How…you…I have questions,” I said as I stepped out of my room.

“Can I have some coffee first?” He lifted the cup to me.

“I don’t have coffee in the house…wait, no! First question, how did you get into my apartment?”

“I have a key. What do you mean you don’t have coffee?” He looked at me like I was the insane one meanwhile I hadn’t seen or heard from in months! Now here he was in my apartment…wait.

“Why do you have a key?” I asked as I walked towards him.

He shrugged moving back into the kitchen, “Alfred gave me one in case of emergencies. I figured that his granddaughter fainting in my arms again was a good enough reason to make use of it.”

Fainting.

Again I remembered…

“Yes, we kissed. And yes, you did faint,” he said as he hunted through the cabinets in search of coffee. “And I brought you home, but not without getting quite a lot stares and a few questions from the museum security, your assistant, and your driver…all of which you slept right through. No one ever talks about that part in the movies.”

My head hurt.

Sitting on the chair behind the kitchen island, I put my hands on the side of my face.

“Knew it!” he declared when he looked into a very old box of my grandfather’s oatmeal raisin cereal and triumphantly pulled out a bag of coffee. “Alfred is to blame for my coffee addiction. There was no way he wouldn’t have any.”

Even though I was confused and tired I laughed. “The old man was hiding it from me. I told him to stick with decaf! And he’d always say—”

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