“And you can have my first bite,” she says, not relenting until I accept.
I open up and… delicious. A hint of sweetness and an array of spices in a vanilla base warms my tongue.
“Delicious,” I tell her. “I know why it’s your favorite.”
“I look forward to it every time I come.”
Rosemary heads into the laundry room and runs water.
“She’s washing my clothing,” I hiss.
“Aye, let her. She loves to take care of others, orc. Let her care for you too.”
“I’m a full-grown male. I should be taking care of her.”
“We will,” Negan promises. “We’ll do her shopping and help her with dinner tonight. The cleanup. It will all balance. You’ll see.”
My mind is blown by how humans work. And how Negan thinks like a human herself.
“I’ll go get dressed,” she says. “Want to wash dishes while I’m gone?”
I nod. It will keep me occupied so I don’t think of her naked body.
The kitchen is sparkling clean by the time Rosemary turns the corner. She looks surprised, then smiles hugely.
“Ahh, boy, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
I nod. “You didn’t have to wash my clothing.”
She grins. “’Tis hanging to dry. You and Negan heading out?”
“Aye. She’s changing.”
“Good, good.” The old female smiles broadly, her cheeks flaking at the corners from the crinkling.
I eye her curiously. “How long is that concoction supposed to stay on your face?”
Her eyes grow huge. “Eek! Not long enough to turn to cement!” The woman races for the bathroom.
Negan laughs as she comes down the hallway, pausing to yell through the bathroom door. “Left it on too long again? Don’t forget to slather on the aloe, Auntie.”
She joins me as chuckling comes from inside the bathroom.
“Come, beautiful. Let’s be on our way.”
Negan hoists a giant bag onto her shoulder as we make our way outside. She carefully locks the door behind us, tucking the key into an inner pocket. I take her hand as we stroll down the driveway.
I’m alert for any signs of danger—any signs from my father’s guard—as we make our way through the edge of the woods and into town.
I feel the warmth of her hand when her palm presses to mine, threading her fingers. I bring her hand up to my mouth for a kiss.
“The market is quite different now. We call it a mall,” Negan says sheepishly. “Back in the early days, it was held outside in the open fields. Then Abigail bargained for the orcs to build her aunt a sort of cabin to house her goods and all the other vendors followed suit. It means we can open the market in other weather besides summer.”
We browse each stand. All the merchants greet Negan by name with a huge smile. She is well-liked. She never drops my hand, as if the female is proud of me.
For the first time in my life, I’m respected by being with someone. This gorgeous person has elevated my status. She doesn’t need my protection. I need hers.
By the time we gather our goods and begin the trek back, she notices my somber mood.
