She felt him rub his finger over her cheek and he began to murmur things to her, almost like a confession.
* * *
Roger couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. It was like…flower petals. That was the only thing he could think of to describe it. He knew she was asleep and it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop touching her face. He let his thumb rub over her cheek bone, back and forth. He was such a bastard. She'd only been trying to be good to him and he'd practically spit in her face and ran out there like a total idiot.
She didn't deserve this, any of it. But he was scared. He didn't know how to protect her here. He didn't know how long they could semi-pretend to be doing what they were supposed to be doing. They were even supposed to be hosting another dinner for a guy and his wife on Friday. Four days.
He had no doubt that Amy could fake her way through another dinner, but it was him he was concerned about. He focused on her little nose and ran his finger down the length. She was delicate, fragile, beautiful, loyal, strong, and most of all, caring to the point of ridiculousness. She cared for
him
and he had been a mean S.O.B. when she arrived. He just needed to work out the kinks in his thinking. He needed to figure out how to pretend and go with the flow as good as Amy was doing.
He leaned forward even more, his lips right at her temple. "I'm going to try with everything in me to be what you need right now. I've got to keep you safe, I just have to. We'll do this our way. Screw them and their rules. You and me, Amy, we're doing our own thing. I just want you to be happy and I'm sorry that the chance for real happiness was taken from you. I’m even more sorry that I was a part of that, but if I do nothing else before I leave this world, I want to make you smile every day. I want you to know that no matter what happens, you can depend on me to be there in any way that you need me. I wish I could just set you free, but I'm…trapped. I can't and you know what? God help me, Amy, but I don't want you to go anymore. I know that's wrong, I know it's…crazy, but you are…"
He was going to say 'Making me fall in love with you', but he just couldn't seem to fit those words in his mouth. He swallowed them down to stay buried forever. No matter what happened, he could not tell her he'd fallen for her. She'd hate him even more than she already did.
So, while she slept, he took his petty penance and kissed her forehead once more. "I'll see you in the morning, sweet girl."
He ended his sad repertoire and left her there buried in the blanket. She'd slept on top of his comforter every night and he knew why. It was one of the little things she did to deny; to be in rebellion of what was going on without actually being in rebellion. Because once you gave up all of those little things it all became too real. He understood that better than anyone, he thought.
But for tonight, he wanted her to have all the comforts available to her and just hoped she wouldn't feel overwhelmed in the morning.
* * *
Amy woke up and looked around the room. It was morning, but early. She was in the bed, which wasn't where she'd fallen asleep. She remembered…being moved. Being warm and the deep murmuring... Roger must have come out and gotten her last night from the couch. But then where was… Ahhh.
He was asleep on the floor next to the bed.
She wondered if she should wake him for work, but then jumped, even shrieking a little, when the alarm next to her went off suddenly. He reached up with his eyes still closed and slapped the button. He sighed and did this grumble thing as he rubbed his eyes. Then he looked up and stopped. He gazed around disoriented for a minute before setting his gaze on her once more. "Morning," he said, but it sounded an awful lot like a question.
"Morning," she said softly, remembering how angry he'd been last night and thought she was trying to trick him. She wondered how to act, but stuck to her plan. "Thanks for putting me in bed. I slept really good last night."
"You're welcome." He cleared his throat and sat up. "And I'm sorry I was such a butthead."
She giggled and tried to cover it with her fingers. His brow shot up in humorous question so she said, "Butthead?"
"Well, that's what I was being wasn't it?"
"A little. It's all right." She flopped back into the bed and stretched. "I can't imagine growing up the way you have."
"I can't imagine growing up the way
you
have," he mused and sat on the side of the bed.
She smiled, pulling her knees up as she lay on the pillow. Her hands rested on her belly and she tapped her nails together. "My dad was…" she looked at him, "really great. He was a fireman. He died when I was sixteen."
His brow bunched. "Sorry."
"You know, it's sad, it is, but to know that your father died trying to save someone…it makes it a little bit better. There was a huge fire at an apartment complex and a woman's teenage son was still inside, so my dad went back in to find him. They both died, but just knowing that he tried…" She gulped, but kept her smile in place. "My mom was always the stay at home kind, so she quickly had to get a job as a waitress at night. I've never seen a woman so tired in my life. I got a job, too, but we made it all work. Dad's insurance paid off the house, so we just took care of everything else."
"Insurance? You mean life insurance?"
"Yeah." The way he said it made her think he almost didn't know what it was. "Do you not have life insurance?"
He shook his head. "No, we don't do that kind of thing here."
Amy nodded in understanding. Why would you leave your wife that you stole money after you died? “What happens if someone dies here?"
"Well, the wife is placed with another man if she's young enough. If not…" He looked away. "The money from the bank account and the man's house is set in a will to go to another man. A son sometimes or a friend's baby that will need the house when he grows up."
"So, you guys have a lot of money, huh?" she asked to change the subject.
"We all do. We only shop with each other and we have everything we need here. We do a lot on the stock market and investments, too, as a group."
"Huh. Must be nice."
"What?"
"To have money to do whatever you want with."
"Not whatever I want," he said bitterly. "I can't leave town without checking out with a guard. I can't move away and start new somewhere else. I can't let you go…"
She sat up and looked at him. "You'd really let me go?"
"But I can't," he answered. "I told you, Amy, I don't want you here." She bristled. What did she have to do for this man to get him to stay in nice mode for just two seconds? She scooted to the opposite side of the bed and got up. "Where are you going?"
"Breakfast," she answered quickly and made her way to the kitchen.
She was starting the coffee when she felt his hands on her arms from behind. "I don't want you here," he repeated and she jolted. Why was he doing this? "That's what I said, but not what I meant, or it came out wrong." He turned her to face him. "I meant you don't belong here. I feel…differently and I can't imagine you getting in the crossfire. We won't be able to live like this, Amy," he said softly. Everything he was saying was soft and filled with concern. "We can't pretend forever."
She took a deep breath, but when she did, she inhaled his soap and cologne. He was so close. "I'm not pretending. I'm just being me."
"You don't love me." Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "That's what I thought. Then you're pretending," he concluded and she saw his point.
"I don't see another way at this point. Roger, you don't belong here either. You're not like them."
"But I am."
"No, you're not."
"Oh, yes I am," he growled bitterly. "I am exactly like them. I stole you didn't I?"
"Technically, some Hispanic man in a van stole me. If you think about it that way…you kind of saved me. I could be with one of
them,
" she jerked her head to the door, "right now. Or in some…whore house." She shook her head at the thought. "I could be dead for all I know."
He looked in her eyes and she finally, after all this time, saw the color of them. They were a deep brown, almost black, but with little pieces of gold. He seemed to be taking note of something himself as his eyes searched and ran over her face more than once. "Are you an angel?" he whispered and gave her a crooked smile. "It's the only explanation that makes any sense."
"Maybe," she said coyly. "So you better start being nice to me."
He nodded as if she had commanded him. "I will, I promise. I'm really sorry. I just didn't know what to do with you. I was…scared for you and scared
of
you. I don't like feeling like that."
"Then don't anymore. We have an agreement, right? We're just an old married couple now." She said the words to him, and meant them. If she never saw an opening to leave she would just be here with this man. What other alternative did she have? And if the opportunity did arise, she'd leave and Roger would get over her leaving.
He smiled, seeming relieved. "Shake on it." He held his hand out.
She was temporarily stunned. She'd never seem him grin like that before, so carefree and finally like he wasn't holding up a massive pile of worries, and it was distracting. She'd be lying if she pretended it wasn't. He smiled wider and took her hand from her side. He shook it in his. "We have a deal."
"Deal," she whispered, because her voice refused to cooperate. She should feel like she was signing a deal with the devil, but she didn't. She was…intrigued and eager about what was to come. She wanted to scold herself, but there wasn't time.
The work day was calling and the coffee maker beeped to let her know that the brew was ready for consumption. And she really needed a freaking cup of coffee.
Chapter 10
The next three weeks went just like that. Work, home, dinner, sleep. She slept in the bed and he found his way to the floor next to it every night. They woke, were pleasant and sometimes even joking, and then another work day started. They had hosted another husband from the community once already and it went just fine. Amy realized that if you just kept your head down and your mouth shut, they really didn't even seem to notice you.
But Roger noticed. She caught his eyes on her constantly.
To say that she wasn't feeling something for the man was the biggest kind of lie. But she was just pretending and showing him some kindness, and he was definitely just pretending. He'd told her so and shook on it.
Today was a Friday and she was looking forward to the weekend. Maybe she could talk Roger into another drive in the convertible. She smiled at that as they pulled into Mitchell's Supply. She followed him back into the shop and took her usual stool. He immediately started on a sign that needed to be finished. He was carving the indentions with a hand tool, back and forth. Scooping and slicing pieces of wood off as he went. She watched, fascinated. When he stopped, she looked up to see him silently laughing at her. "What?" she asked and smiled.
"You want to try?"
"Really?" she asked practically bounded up from her stool. "Um, sure," she tried for nonchalance, but he laughed harder so she knew she failed.
"Come over here and hold this," he instructed and put his arms around her from behind. She felt her lips part as his warm breath splayed over her cheek and neck as he said, "Put one hand here…and one hand here. Like that, good. Now, we're going to go up with a little push," he instructed it with his hands over hers as they leaned into the wood, shaving off a slice as they did so, "now back with no resistance. See?"
She nodded and wondered why she was the only one about to keel over from him touching her. Oh, that's right. He was faking it, as she should be doing. He seemed perfectly cool and calm as they continued to go back and forth, his back and legs pressed against her.
The radio changed to something slow, sultry. She almost groaned at the setting scene. Was this Ghost and she was Demi Moore? She needed to get out of this, put her head back on straight, and stop getting silly notions about having feelings for this man. But when she told her brain to push him off, her body refused. It was content and happy. It was…practically glowing under his touch.
She closed her eyes and prayed that God would not make her fall in love with this man.
* * *
Too late. It was
way
too late. Roger knew the second she was pressed against him that it was too late for him. He was a goner, a sap, a puppy begging for attention. He had been naïve to think that they could just pretend there wasn't something there crackling between them every day. She smelled so good - that strawberry shampoo he’d bought her - and her skin… He had to gulp to stop from smelling her hair right there in front of her. He was glad that his voice was steady at least.
This girl. This girl that was so beautiful inside and out was breaking him down. Breaking his defenses, his beliefs, his moods, his useless heart. He didn't know what was right anymore. Was it right if he really and truly loved her?
* * *