He picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. He sets me down next to the bed and strips off all my clothing, does the same to himself, then pushes me onto the bed and crawls in next to me. He drags the sheets and blanket over us, pulls me into his side, and holds me so tightly, it’s like he’s afraid I’m going to disappear in a poof of smoke.
After a while, I say, “I’m sorry I said that thing about burying the knife in your skull. I didn’t mean it.”
“You did.”
“Okay, that’s true. But I would’ve regretted it if I did. I would’ve cried really hard at your funeral. And I shouldn’t have said it in front of your men. I apologize. But I can’t guarantee I won’t push you into traffic if you hurt one of those guys. They adore you. And it really wasn’t thei
