Iresigned myself to talking to Andy. We needed to reel things in. I wasstruggling to balance life with leisure, and I could only begin to imagine howshe was coping at work. She never talked about the hospital anymore, and thatalone was worrisome.
Beforeentering the apartment, I braced myself. It was funny that I still had to dothat, all those weeks after Pops’s death. But it wasn’t until after I’dcollected my bearings, that I unlocked the door and went inside.
“Hey,sweetheart,” I called, emptying my pockets on the kitchen table.
“Hey,baby.”
“Iwanna talk to you about somethin’.”
Iheaded into the living room, and there I found her, sitting in front of thecoffee table. Her head was thrown back against the couch, with that telltalesmile on her face. My eyes were drawn to the mirror, sprinkled with whitepowder, with that stupid gift card beside it.
“Youare … the most beautiful husband, you know that?” she said, opening her eyes toreveal two rich black holes where her bright blue irises once were.
“Fuckin’hell, Andy,” I muttered in reply, feeling all at once jealous and defeated. Idropped to my knees across from her and, on autopilot, began to set up a fewlines. Then, before I bent over to pull them into my system and chase her intonirvana, I shook my head and repeated, “Fuckin’ hell.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
VINNIE
I watchedher slip the dress on, jealous of its flimsy fabric, clinging to her curves.She caught my eyes in the mirror and grinned before swiping on a coat of lipgloss.
“Stop,you're making me self-conscious,” she giggled.
“What?”I laughed, kicking one ankle over the other and folding my arms behind my head.“I'm not allowed to watch my wife get dressed?”
Andyshook her head, grabbing her hairbrush from off the dresser. “Nope. You'reallowed to watch me get naked, not when I'm putting on clothes and makeup.”
“Whynot?” I asked, my mouth twitching into a lopsided smile.
Sheshrugged, dropping her gaze, and I thought,there she is, that shy girl whoalways knew exactly what she wanted.
Imissed her.
“Iwas never good with fashion and stuff,” she told me, pulling the brush throughher long, blonde hair. “Before our first date, my sisters actually helped meget dressed.”
Ismiled, remembering fondly. “The sparkly purple shirt.”
Shesniffed a soft laugh. “Yes. That was actually Mer's.”
“Stillmy favorite color,” I commented gently, hoping that maybe we could go backthere someday, to the people we once were.
Sheflashed a smile over her shoulder before tying her hair back into a messy bun.Having the long, blanketing lengths up off her shoulders, I could see the sharpdefinition of her shoulder and collar bones. Looking at her now, I saw her as askeleton, frail and sickly. I'd been debating with myself for days now, sincethat chat with Jenna, and now I knew for sure; I needed to get that shit awayfrom our lives before it killed us. Mustering the willpower to do so though,was another issue entirely.
“Anyway,”she went on, coming to sit beside me on the bed, “I just feel a littleself-conscious about it, that's all. I don't have great taste in clothes.”
Furrowingmy brows, I let my eyes sweep over her and the lavender sundress. It wassimple, sure, but there was nothing wrong with that. I wrapped my hand aroundher thin arm and pulled her toward me.
“Well,I think you're perfect,” I said, my breath tickling her lips before I gentlykissed her.
“That'sjust because we're perfect together. I'm not perfect alone,” she argued,pressing her hands flat against my chest.
Ismiled, making an effort to keep my mouth shut. We had been, at one point,perfect together, and I believed we could get there again with time and effort.But I couldn't consider this, what we were doing now, to be anything other thantoxic.
Andystood from the bed and slipped her feet into a pair of white heels. I whistledat the sight of her long, lean legs, accentuated by the extra height, and sheblushed.
“Youreally think I look okay?”
Inodded. “Sweetheart, if you weren't running out the door, I'd be pulling youonto my dick right now.”
