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Chapter Eleven
Mable
It’s been a month since I married Adrian, and during that month, I think I’ve fallen in love with the intense man. Adrian is unlike any other person I’ve ever met. Everything he does for me is with a passion I’ve never seen before. He gives me anything, everything.
Like he’s making up for something. Sometimes, he catches himself before he says too much, and he backtracks, wanting me to forget anything he has said.
We have met before, but he won’t tell me how or where. There’s a part of me that has let it go because does it really matter? I’m married to the man now, dare I say, even happily, but then there’s the voice in the back of my head, screaming at me to find the truth.
What could he be hiding?
When I think of his eyes, the same eyes I’ve dreamed about for so many years, I know it has to do with my parents’ accident. It has to be because that’s when the dreams of his dark brown irises invaded my sleep.
What does he have to do with it?
And the thoughts have kept me up at night. It’s why I’m in the kitchen at three in the morning, searching for a snack.
I really want pickles, which is weird because I only want them when I have my period and I had that… “Oh my God,” I gasp, pressing my hand against my stomach, and look down as if it’s about to grow into a watermelon. “No, that’s impossible.”
It isn’t impossible. At all, actually. We don’t practice safe sex. He’s never worn a condom, and I’m not on birth control, so pregnancy wouldn’t be that far-fetched.
Would he be happy? Does he want to be a dad? There’s still so much I don’t know. He keeps me in the dark about so many things. I don’t know what his job is. Any time I ask, he says the less I know, the better, which makes me think it’s dangerous.
I’ve tiptoed around the idea of me getting a job, but I’m waiting until the right time. If I’m pregnant, that will never happen. He’ll want to bubble-wrap me to protect me from the corners of the house. The man thinks anything can hurt me.
I smile, liking how protective he is, but I need to know. I need to tell him, so he doesn’t worry.
How bad would he be if I stole the car to go to the store? Maybe he wouldn’t notice. I’ll only be gone a half hour. He’s still asleep, and maybe he won’t notice.
Is it worth the risk?
Yes, because I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.
I tiptoe to the nearest wall, where a large slab of wood is hanging. There are five hooks, all holding different car keys.
I pluck the Land Rover keys and curse when I realize I have no money.
“Whatcha doin’?” a crunch follows the question.
I jump, holding a hand to my chest, when I see Otello, my oddly kind kidnapper, leaning against the wall shoveling cereal into his mouth.
“Nothing,” I rush to say.
“Are you trying to escape?” he asks, chewing the sugary flakes.
I shake my head. “What? No. I need to go to the store.”
“It’s three in the morning. It can wait until Dri is awake.”
“It can’t,” I blurt, not wanting to explain why. “I really need to go now. I’ll be right back. I promise.”
“You swear? Pinky it.” He holds out his pinky, and I find it hard to believe this is the same guy who kidnapped me.
I’m not even afraid of him.
I should be, but I’m not, which means I should have my head examined.
I hook my pinky in his. “I love him. I’m not going anywhere.”
