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I missed him terribly. It was sick and warped as hell, but I did.
“What are you afraid of?” Maxwell asked in a soft voice.
Realizing I’d let my mask slip, I straightened and grappled for indifference. “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think we’ll be having a relationship.”
He stroked his jaw in contemplation. “Would it be so terrible to consider?”
“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.
“Because?” he pressed.
“I’m still in love with my e--husband.”
All signs of humor vanished from his face. A pregnant silence filled the worn kitchen still hideously decorated with chickens.
“You’re married?” he finally asked carefully.
“Widowed.”
He stared at me, and the look in his eyes had a chill skirting down my spine.
“Max?”
With a blink, he was back to sporting an easy-going smile. “Sorry. You caught me off guard with that one.” He rubbed the back of his neck and studied me closely. “You don’t look old enough to be a widow.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, pausing when a thud came from upstairs. Our eyes met, and then both our gazes drifted upward toward the ceiling.
“Do you got a pet or a roommate?”
“No pets.” We listened to see if there was any other noise, but aside from the dripping in the living room, it was silent.
“So, about dinner?” he pushed as I was still pondering what that could’ve been.
I gave him a flat stare.
“No relationships or dating expectations, I swear.”
“I don’t feel like going anywhere.”
“Then I’ll bring the food to you like a good COD.”
“What is a COD?”
“Cock on demand.”
I covered my face to hide my grin.
I hadn’t smiled this much in a long time. Being able to laugh at his sense of humor made me feel a million times lighter.
“I get off at eight,” I gave in.
“Then dinner will be at eight-thirty,” he drawled, smiling victoriously. When his phone began to ring, he answered it, and I watched that beautiful smile fall right off his face.
He didn’t tell me what was wrong as he filed out the door, only that he’d see me later. I watched from the front window as he slipped into an unmarked luxury sedan and drove off. I emptied the bucket in the living room, frowning at the hideous circle of water damage gradually spreading across the ceiling.
This place had the potential to be beautiful, but it was far from my dream home, and I didn’t have a dime to start with. I could do a healthy amount of DIY, but even those required cash.
There would still be plenty of issues professionals needed to see to afterward. I rubbed my lower back and headed for the staircase. I had a few hours to kill before going to work. It would take me at least one to fight with the shower since it hadn’t been used since yesterday.
I reached the top of the stairs and came to a stop, eyeing the partially opened door to the corner bedroom. My muscles tensed at the sight of it. Why was that open? I could’ve sworn I pulled the door shut the night before. A cool breeze slipped through the gap and carried into the hallway, causing the door to sway open and closed.
I crept closer and slowly pushed it open. The room was empty as it should be. I surveyed all the boxes, and nothing seemed to be out of place. But the window…it was open again. Apprehension had the hair rising on the back of my neck as I retraced my steps from the night before.
I stepped around the last stack of boxes and froze. Lying across the windowsill, was a single red rose.
CHAPTER NINE
ROSELYNN
AFTER HIM
I searched from top to bottom and found nothing. I got ready for work with one watching the bathroom door. The rose I discarded in the outside trashcan before getting in my car. The entire drive to work I tried to think of who could have put it there between last night and this morning.
My list of immediate suspects was non-existent. The one person that belonged at the top was a ghost. But no one would know the significance of roses unless they knew my husband’s family values.
That’s what concerned me more than anything. If I were to think about it from that angle, the list was endless. He had a huge family and a lot of friends that partook in the same macabre lifestyle he did.
I was sure more than a few of them wanted to see me burn alive. I focused on my breathing, paying little attention to the small crowd of people and the caution tape on the right side of the road. I was still trying to push the rose incident to the back of my mind as I clocked in. If that was all I focused on, this shift would drag by and only make me more paranoid.
