Page 21 of The Viper's Wife

I force a small smile onto my face. A lifetime of people asking me ‘what’s wrong?’ when I’m daydreaming or focused is a reminder that I need to make a conscious effort to smile, especially at work.

But I can barely focus when my mind keeps wandering back to my new engagement.

Nothing else in my life has changed. I still ride the train, I still have student loan bills, I still sleep in my bedroom on top of a pile of secret cash.

Every day this week, I’ve expected Nico to call myparents and tell them this was all a horrible prank and that I’m free.

I almost had the transfer position to quiet, boring, safe Springfield. I was so close to escaping my family’s madness.

But then I went and ruined it by fucking the wrong guy.

I’ve thought about that night so much since the dinner.

Waiting for you.

Don’t you want to know my name?

He gave me so many chances to figure out who he was, and I ignored them all because I thought I was in a place where my family’s influence wouldn’t reach. Whether he thinks he’s saving my honor, he wants more, or some other horrible reason, I’ve sealed my fate.

“Val?” Trey’s smile falters.

I close the lid of the CE instrument. “Sorry, just have a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve got just the cure for that,” Connor announces, looking up from his phone. “Michelle is bringing coffee and Havoc.”

Trey perks up at the mention of coffee, and we all shuffle out of the lab and head to the break room.

Connor’s girlfriend Michelle brought in a tray of coffees for us all. Her big German Shepherd, Havoc, sits patiently at her feet, his tail breaking into excitedthumpson the floor as we enter the room. The small sight lifts my heart. Dogs are like kids—sweet, innocent souls who deserve love and protection. Seeing Havoc is one of my favorite parts of this job.

Next to him, Michelle greets us all with a bright smile as we walk in, lingering on me, like the two of us are part of a secret girl’s club.

I make a point to smile back. I would love to be in asecret girl’s club with her, especially if she comes as a package deal with Havoc.

Connor wraps his arms around Michelle and gives her a big smack on the cheek. “Have I mentioned you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

“Not recently,” she says.

I always wonder what it would be like to have a relationship like theirs. Based on the snippets I’ve heard from Connor, they go to the dog park a lot and rock climb together on the weekends.

I couldn’t imagine wanting to spend extra time with any of my partners over the years. Men have always been like salt shakers—I take them out, I use them, then I leave them in the pantry until I need them again. But a dog?

When I have my own place with a yard, I’m going to adopt every dog in the pound and live with a pack of them, and we’ll sleep in a big pile on my bed every night.

Havoc isn’t wearing his K-9 vest today, so I squat down to his height, let him sniff my hand, and when he nudges his big furry head into my palm, I stroke down his back. The tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders for the past several days eases a little.

I thank Michelle for the coffee, making note of the cost, and tell myself I’ll bring the group coffee tomorrow. Now that I’m a trainee, I’m barely making more than I did as a bartender, but with Mom at her sister’s and Dad in his room all day long, no one’s “borrowing” money from me, and I can afford to bring my coworkers coffee once a week, even if it kills me to spend so much when we get perfectly good, free coffee from the break room. What I can’t afford is my coworkers having any reason not to like me, especially with my home life so delicate.

I sip from my paper cup, closing my eyes for a few extraseconds while the liquid warmth spreads into my bones. One day, this is what home is going to feel like.

I haven’t made any collages since I found that creepyWatch yourselfnote in my art supplies, but I’ve missed making them. Shredding paper, slicing through old magazines, and the hunt for scraps that stop being trash once I fill them with intention. I slip off the cup sleeve. When I get home, I’ll make a collage.

It doesn’t matter what Nico and my family are planning. I have plans too.

I head to my coat on the break room rack, drop the cardboard sleeve into a pocket, and sit at a nearby table to check my phone.

The vague hope I have toward my future shrivels at a missed call from Mom.

Her face pops up on my screen, a photo I grabbed from her social media a few years back. She’s calling again.