Page 165 of Darling Venom
At the clock.
Then back again.
“It’s getting late.”
“I’m not done eating.”
I called bull, but it didn’t stop her from sinking her fork into a piece of chicken parm and shoving it past her lips. She took her time chewing. When she opened her mouth again, I braced for her words.
“He once wrote a short story about two children who sought a witch to grant them wishes. Do you want to hear it?”
I knew I should stop this if I wanted to survive, yet I found myself nodding.
“The girl and boy lost their parents.” She swallowed, averting her eyes.
I wondered if Kel had written this story for her. And for himself. An orphaned girl and the boy who found his mother dead.
“She feared the loneliness. He loathed the pain.” Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut, brows meeting in the middle as if she were imagining the scene as she narrated it. “Together, they found a witch who granted wishes that lasted forever.”
My eyes pinned on her like I was the arrow and she was the target. For one startling moment, I wondered what it was like to read for pleasure. What she enjoyed about it.
“The girl wished to live without fear, while the boy wished to live without pain. The witch granted these wishes. Years passed, and the girl no longer felt fear, and the boy no longer felt pain. Still, neither of them smiled.
“They returned to the witch and begged her to grant them another wish—happiness. The witch told them she couldn’t, because their previous wishes were permanent and you can’t experience happiness without knowing fear and pain.” Charlie reached forward, grabbing my hand. “Pain is growth. Fear is risk. You can’t be happy if you’re not growing and taking risks.”
I heard the words she didn’t say.
Read the manuscript, Tate.
I slipped my hand from hers.
“Kellan wrote fairytales.” I sounded skeptical, but I wasn’t. Not really.
“Yes.”
“Did he actually write that? Or are you trying to tell me something?”
“Both.” She idled, resting her fork on the counter, marking it with marinara sauce. “Just so we’re clear, I’m only concerned about your well-being because you are scheduled to deliver my boss’ babies this coming week.”
“Crystal clear.”
Not.
I didn’t think for a second this had anything to do with Reagan’s upcoming induced labor.
Charlotte Richards was right.
I was falling.
But so was she.
Terry: I need Darling Venom.
Me: 09609999 Error invalid number. Please re-send using a valid 10-digit mobile number or valid short code.
Terry: Har. Har.
I entered a consultation with a forty-two-year-old patient who wanted to try another round of IVF. When I finished the meeting, I found three too many texts from Sperm Donor Dearest.
