Page 190 of You've Got Hate Mail
I hope that’s not the case, but if it is—well.
If it is, I’ll deal with it.
Maybe.
“My ass!” Ten suddenly howls. “I can’t feel my ass! Who stole my ass?”
Heath shifts immediately into paramedic mode. “It’s still there, bud. Just asleep. How you feeling?”
“Turn off the lights,” Ten grunts.
“Already as low as they’ll go,” Heath says. “You wanna head back to the house and get some sleep in a real bed?”
“Is fun Mabel there?”
“Is he talking about me?” I whisper to Heath.
“No idea,” he murmurs back. Louder, he says, “No one but you in your house tonight. Caro said you’re a bed hog, so she’s having a sleepover with Ginny instead.”
“Fucking girls. They have all the fun.”
“Looked like you were having plenty of fun here yourself.”
He coaxes Ten to his feet while I gather the wine glasses, and then the three of us slowly make our way across the property to the mother-in-law house.
I carry Dean’s ashes.
Sometimes I think Pip misses him more than she lets on.
Other times I think she really does enjoy torturing his remains.
She’s just as complicated as I suspect Ten is—outwardly free and unbothered, but inwardly, I think there are scars.
“I’ll watch him a while longer,” Heath murmurs to me in the kitchen of what was supposed to be my quarters when I got here last month. “You should go get some dinner. Olivia’s making her famous chicken alfredo. Fucking delicious.”
I squint at him. “I’m very picky about my pasta.”
His smile lights my entire world. “You’re picky about something?”
“Verypicky about my pasta.”
“Then you should go see if she can make it to your standards.”
“Mabel’s eyeball!” I say. “I forgot about Mabel’s eyeball. I’ll go see if she still needs it.”
Pip was playing with it in the sitting room.
Using it as a die in a game of Yahtzee with Lav yesterday.
Heath pulls me in for another kiss.
“You amaze me,” he murmurs as he pulls away. “I know it was your idea to use Ten to convince Pip to sell the wine.”
How could Inotlove this man?
He believes in me.
He sees me.
