Page 26 of Not Your Romeo
“If you don’t want to–” he quietly began.
“No. I do.” I smiled, putting my hand over his and leaning toward him.
He side-eyed me while I planted a kiss on his cheek, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so thoughtful, I was warned you were no Romeo, remember?”
He snorted and drew my hand up like he was going to kiss it, only to nip my knuckle at the last minute. I jerked my hand away and swatted him, before hopping out with a stupid grin. I felt like I’d won something over, or perhaps melted a little bit of that stone heart of his.
When we got back home, I went inside and started pilfering around in the refrigerator and pantry for something to throw together. I had to bite my lip against a smile as I surveyed his shelves.
“Bachelor life,” I nodded, accepting it for what it was.
The man had canned soups, beans, pastas, boxes of macaroni and some pouches of cheesy broccoli noodles. I went for the broccoli noodles and found some sausage in the refrigerator to slice up and fry.
It took him a while to unload the van, but he didn’t seem disappointed by the smell he was greeted with when he caught up with me.
“What are you doing?” He smiled.
“I figured you might be hungry.”
“You were right.” He grabbed himself a beer and fetched a cup of ice for me.
I put juice on it and quickly filled two plates.
“Why didn’t I ever think to combine these?” he teased me.
“Did you ever have to cook in a dorm room?”
“Admittedly, I have not. Though, I did survive on some shit you would not care to sample while deployed.”
“I’ve heard of that stuff, ‘ready to eat’ meals or whatever.”
He grunted and nodded his head while working on a mouthful of noodles.
“I swear, I can cook more than boxed stuff. If there's something you like–” I offered, unsure of his shopping habits or when he intended to return to a grocery store.
“I believe you.” He winked. “This is good. Thank you. I eat just about everything, though, don’t go all out for me if you hit a store.”
“Does Sammy call home often?” I asked when the conversation lulled a moment.
“I don’t know,” he absently mused, before glancing up at me, “You want to talk to her or something?”
I didn’t know her. I’d never met her in my life, and I really wasn’t even sure I’d know what to say when we did get around to meeting each other.
“No.” I answered honestly, “I just figure the more often she calls, the quicker the man who killed my brother will meet justice. Especially now that the police are involved, right?”
Ziggy slowly stopped chewing and swallowed. He laid his fork on his plate without a sound, but I still flinched.
“I’m gonna grab a shower,” he quietly announced, and I don’t know why, but a little part of me wished he would have screamed it.
Chapter Thirteen
Bodies and Blame
Ziggy
I drowned out the world under that shower for a solid fifteen minutes. When I emerged, feeling refreshed and more prepared for such conversations, however, my young wife wasn’t anywhere to be found.
The bed was made, so I knew she’d been in the room, even if I hadn’t heard her while I was under the water. The hall was dimly lit, and the door to Ruby’s room shut tight. I stood there a minute, listening, and praying she wasn’t in there.
