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“What’s wrong?” I ask, worry etching my face.
“Emerson didn’t get the letter. He rang me last night. Nothing arrived. I figured Carlo found it, but it’s been three weeks now. He would’ve said something.”
I catch my breath and try to assess if he knows it was me and he’s tricking me into a confession, but I can read in his eyes that he has no idea.
“So what are you going to do? And why are you all sweaty?” I know my lying is terrible. I truly suck at it, but I don’t want to lie to him.
“I’ve just been to meet Emerson. I wrote another letter this morning and ran to the woods. He’s got another one ready to take next week. Fuck, Rori, I thought we’d lost our shot!”
After three weeks of living with the guilt of what I’d done to Dax's letter, my attempts to stop contact again have failed. I underestimated the lengths Dax will go to in order to get his family back. I’ve never had a family that cares about me at all, so I wouldn’t know what it’s like to go to the end of the earth for someone.
My heart drops to my stomach when he hugs me after telling me the good news. I suppose it’s a blessing he has no idea what happened to the old letter. At least he hasn’t found out it was me who was trying to sabotage his plan on getting his family back.
I try to smile and bask in the joy he feels, but in truth, I’m crushed, and there is nothing I can do now but wait.
Amonth later, Emerson has my letter and is taking it to the prison to give to King, and I have been a nervous wreck for the past couple of weeks. I know not to expect anything in return because if he could, he would’ve reached out already, but the thought of him knowing I’m here waiting, ready to bring vengeance on Carlo when he’s home has me bouncing on my feet. I can’t ever stay still.
Me and Rori have been spending more hours than necessary in the gym to try and relieve the tension. She has been a little quieter and I’m sure it’s because she’s worried I’m going to leave her in the dust when King is home, but I’m going to prove to her I’ll never let her go.
I finish setting up the table, the same pasta I cooked for us the first night I met her, steaming in the bowls on the placemats. Maria walks in with Rori, a small smile on her face as she winks at me, a scowl from Rori making her laugh.
“Maria, you said you needed me for something,” she whines and it makes me chuckle.
“I did, dear. I needed you to meet Dax in the kitchen.” She laughs, waving her hand over her shoulder as she leaves the room.
Rori scowls at me from across the room and I can’t help but laugh at her again.
“Really, Dax, couldn’t you have just asked me to come here yourself?” she sasses and I quirk a brow at her.
“And where’s the fun in that?”
She tries not to smile and I laugh at her attempt, bringing her close to me to peck her on the nose.
“I made you dinner, Birdie.” I kiss her again but on the lips before leading her to her chair and she gingerly takes a seat, side-eyeing me the whole time. “What?”
“Why are you being all weird?” she asks softly, picking up her fork and twirling some pasta onto it.
“I just wanted to treat you, Birdie. Is that a crime?” I wink at her and she relaxes.
“I guess not.” She smiles, shovelling the pasta into her mouth. “I love this so much,” she mumbles with a mouth full of food and I smile at her, thinking back to our first night together.
“Do you remember when I first cooked it for you?”
She slurps up her string of pasta between her lips and nods.
“How could I forget? You just murdered a man in front of me and then cooked me a meal like it was a normal day.”
I laugh at her and nod.
“I would do it again and again,” I confess and she quirks a brow at me.
“Cook me pasta?”
“Murder for you.”
She pauses her fork to look at me and I don’t smile to let her know how serious I am.
“I know you would,” she replies, not even a little bit concerned we’re talking about murder as if we were having a conversation about the weather.
