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“Hopefully, I don’t sound weird,” she added, the silence eating at her conscience.
“Me, either. The garden is open twenty-four hours a day. So are the fields. Have your way.”
“Really? Seriously? Are you for real?”
Instead of taking offense and responding to her questions, I continued out of the door. And just before I hit the porch, she stopped me in my tracks again.
“Thanks, Mal.”
Whipping my neck in her direction, I tried my hardest not to break it in the process. A gasp fell from those lips that were much too big for her face as confusion followed. I stepped back into her space, head tilted and eyes squinted to the point that I could hardly see much of anything. But, I could see her. Right in front of me, she stood, worried without a clue.
“What did you just call me?” I asked.
“I, uh, I…” she stuttered, genuinely trying to find the words to say.
“Aeir,” I grimaced. “What did you just call me? What’d you say on my way out?”
“M-Mal.”
“Why?” My heart ached at the sound of it.
Far too much time had passed since the last time I’d heard it come from her lips, and to hear it now, left me gutted, enraged, and aroused at once. I craved violence and peace simultaneously. I wanted to hit something, hurt something, shoot something. But I wanted to hear something most–hear her say that shit over and over until she was blue in the face.
“Why?” She breathed heavily.
“Why would you say that?”
“I-I don’t kn—”
“I never gave you my name,” I reminded her. “So how the fuck do you know my name, Aeir?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
The fact that I believed her left me feeling uneasy.
“Who the fuck do you work for?” I asked, deep in her mix and refusing the personal space she’d once been granted.
Stepping back to put space between us, she tried defusing the situation. Her composure wasn’t altered and her calmness never faded as I watched her inhale deeply and then exhale. She remained collected and reserved as she attempted to share the energy.
“My intentions weren’t to rattle you, but it’s the God’s honest truth when I say that it just came out. I hadn’t noticed what I’d said until you asked me to repeat myself. Is that your name? Is your name Mal?”
“You don’t get to call me that, so it doesn’t fucking matter. Maybe this was a bad idea. This shit—”
“Mr. Domino,” she cut me off. “I got it. You’re Mr. Domino from here on out.”
It was impossible to maintain the state I was in with her looking up at me the way she was with those button-shaped eyes, full of remorse and regret. I pushed out air, hoping to cleanse my thoughts, but it was difficult. Questions began to arise that I needed answers to, yet she didn’t have them to give.
“It won’t happen again,” she assured me.
Hesitantly, I backed out of the door and onto the porch. When I started my journey back to the main house on the property, everything felt foreign. I tried regaining control of my breathing, but it proved to be much more difficult than I’d expected. Nevertheless, I prevailed. My legs didn’t stop moving until I was inside my home and in my bedroom with my knees on the floor.
“God, quit playing these fucking games with my heart.”
FIVE
I touchedthe base of the sink. Involuntarily, my eyes closed as a pain shot through my heart. I remained still, hoping it would subside but it stuck with me for a while. And I was taken to an unknown place where the silkiest fabric rubbed against my skin as I rushed against those tattooed arms in a kitchen that was unfamiliar to me, in a home I’d never been in, and on a day I hadn’t seen in this lifetime.
Is it my future?I asked myself, listening to the words that spewed from both our mouths. I knew that voice and those arms were the same ones that brought me linen two hours ago. They belonged to the man that spiked my blood pressure and made my lady parts ache.
