Boo," I said. He reacted as all mutts react when I confront them. He leapt from his chair and dove for the nearest exit, shaking in terror. In my dreams. He glanced at me and started looking for Clay. It never failed. Mutts only quaked when I appeared because it usually meant Clayton wasn't far behind. I was nothing but a harbinger of doom.

All I could think about was him, and how much I wanted this, and how incredibly lucky I was to get it, and how tight I was going to hold onto it.

Here I had a wonderful man who cared for me and I was screwing around with a self-absorbed, conniving monster who'd betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Tori joined us for dinner --in body, at least. She spent the meal practicing for a role in the next zombie movie, expressionless, methodically moving fork to mouth, sometimes even with food on it.

He stood and inhaled, then walked a few more feet, stooped, and prodded a chunk of rabbit fur. “I’m definitely thinking something with more body parts,” I said. “Like a head.” He gave a snort of a laugh. “It’s probably around here somewhere, but I suppose you want the parts attached, too.

He leaned her back against the tub, setting her head on the edge, then washed her shoulders. "I know I left you once." She opened her mouth, wanting to say it didn't matter, it was forgotten. But it wasn't. "I know I hurt you." Again, she wanted to argue. But she couldn't. "I know I said I won't leave you again, but I also know that's not enough, and that the only way you're going to trust that I won't leave is if I don't". He slid the cloth over her arms. "If this ends, Hope, it won't be me that ends it. I think you know that.

Maybe my expectations for honesty are too high.