Page 196 of Vicious Intentions
By the time I walk through the front door, Anna has already rehearsed the grief of losing me a dozen different ways. I see it in how fast she gets up when she hears the door. It’s in the relief she tries to swallow before she thinks I’ll notice it. In the way her hands tremble slightly when she touches me, like some part of her still isn’t convinced I’m real.
I used to think the worst part of this godforsaken war was what waited for me out in my city’s streets.
Turns out it’s coming home to this.
It’s not healthy for her to spend all her time trapped in this house, drowning in worry over whether I’ll make it home alive. Because that’s exactly what my Anna has been doing with her time. She just sits and waits for disaster to strike, like she’s forgotten how to do anything else. She hasn’t picked up a bookor touched her piano since the war began, too terrified for her siblings and me to allow herself even a second of joy.
And watching my beautiful wife wither away from all the horrors running through that pretty little head of hers is killing me faster than any bullet ever could.
She needs a reprieve from the constant weight of her worries, even if only for a day. One day where she can forget the war raging beyond these walls. One day where she isn’t waiting for bad news or bracing for the worst.
She needs a day where all she has to focus on is us.
Us and our happiness.
Because when all is said and done, wearehappy.
When night falls and the world is locked away behind our bedroom door, Anna and I are happier than we have ever been after such lonely existences. She is my peace. My light. My reason. And seeing her so crestfallen, spending her days consumed by fear, is unbearable beyond words.
Hence why I came up with this plan.
Today is Halloween. A day when my city is full of people dressed in the most ridiculous costumes imaginable. A day where we can walk down the sidewalk hand in hand without worrying that someone will recognize us.
A day where I don’t have to fear someone taking her away from me.
“I don’t know about this,” she says, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror as she adjusts her wig.
I frown at the flowing raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders down to the low of her back. I miss the blonde streaks in her short hair, the way they gleam whenever the sun catches them just right. Though it doesn’t matter. It’s still my Anna beneath all that makeup and dark hair. The whole point of us wearing costumes is to disappear. The Outfit is looking for ablonde goddess. A mafia princess. Not a brunette in a cheap Halloween costume.
“It will be fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”
Her shoulders slump before she turns and walks over to me in her ten-inch heels. My eyes may struggle to reconcile this outlandish version of Anna with my sweet, docile wife, but my heart recognizes its owner instantly. And by the way my cock bulges, it does too.
“I do trust you,” she says, wrapping her arms around me and pressing her cheek to my heart. “I just wish we could go out without…all of this.”
“I could have bought you a princess costume, but I felt it was too on the nose,” I joke, picking her chin up.
“You’re not funny,” she says, though her smile says otherwise.
“We’ll have fun today. I promise. A day out of this house will do us both some good.”
She nods before rising onto her tiptoes to kiss me. Even with the fabricated height her heels give her, the top of Anna’s head only reaches a little past my chin.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“If I say no, can we ditch this plan of yours altogether and just stay home?” she says, half joking, half lamenting, her nerves bleeding through.
“Not a chance.” I wink.
“That’s what I thought,” she sighs, pressing a kiss to my jaw before letting me help her into her coat.
Anna stays close to my side as we head downstairs together. The second we reach the foyer, my mother gasps dramatically.
“Oh, my, you two look amazing!” She claps when she sees us in our pirate costumes.
“You don’t think it’s a little too much?” Anna asks, tugging at the hem of her miniskirt.
“Absolutely not. You both look spectacular,” my mother insists, thankfully easing some of my wife’s nerves.
