Kiss, Marry, Kill

Chapter Four

"Good morning," Blake whispers, but I'm not sure if it's the honey-drip of his voice, or the morning sun streaming through the curtains that wakes me. Blinking slowly, I stretch and roll onto my stomach, burying my face into the pillow with a soft grunt.

Blake laughs and shifts away from me, dragging the duvet with him. I bite back a grumbled curse, peering at him through my lashes and the blur of the pillow. He grins at me, poking my shoulder before rolling from the bed. "I'm going to go and join, uh, Iz and Spence, if that's okay?"

For a second - a blissful second - I forget. I forget it's not just Blake and I, and we aren't young, on the brink of adulthood. I remember everything else, my life before and after Blake, and realise I don't have a reason to be smiling.

"You don't need to ask me if that's okay," I tell him, pushing myself upright, away from the warmth. "I told you last night to sleep with them."

Blake sighs, shifting from foot-to-foot. He bites his lower lip and then leans across the bed to kiss my cheek. It's warm where he touches, but then he lifts Wendy onto the bed and disappears. Her fur rubs against my nose as she nuzzles into my throat. Her presence is an overwhelming comfort. I wrap an arm around her and watch as Blake shuts the door behind himself.

It takes me another hour to drag myself from the bed. I could lay here for an eternity with Wendy's soft snores against my cheek. Her breath is pungent, but it's not the worst thing I've smelt. I stroke two fingers along her fur, across her little stomach. Wendy yawns and blinks those large brown eyes open to stare at me.

"Good morning. Is it breakfast time?" I ask. Maybe one day I won't be talking to a predominantly empty room. Maybe one day I'll actually hear a response.

It's hard leaving the warm bed, but I learnt a long time ago that sleeping-in is not for people like me. I draw Wendy into my arms, holding her against my chest as I pad barefoot downstairs. It's a chilly morning, despite the heat blasting through the air vents. All the bedroom doors are shut on the landing, and the echoe of several showers hums through a variation of walls. I suppose it would have been dumb to assume there was only one bathroom within this house.

I find Coal, Brownie, Dorothy, and Fred in the living room. The dogs are all docile on their individual beds, but at the sight of me their tales wag and they lift their heads. Dorothy stands as I set Wendy down, and I watch as she bounds across the room to the golden Labrador.

"Good morning," I whisper to the dogs as I approach. I reach down to scratch the top of their heads. Brownie licks my palm, coating my wrist and fingers in drool. I snicker, unbothered as I lean down to touch our foreheads together. She likes that; fat tongue catching my cheek and slathering me in more slobber as she looks at me cross-eyed. I laugh breathlessly to stop the moisture from entering my mouth. "Yuck."

Brownie disagrees. She tries to lick me again, but I quickly stand up to avoid her, rubbing at my cheek. It doesn't do much. With a sigh, I click my fingers (the same way I've seen everyone else do it) and lead the five dogs out onto the back patio. If we're outside, we can't make a mess; I can't get in trouble.

The patio is large and wooden. It extends out past the sand and over the water, alike a pier. The dogs each bound out around my legs, and I watch in amusement as Coal bounds for the end of the pier before throwing herself into the water. Dorothy follows, and so does Fred. Brownie stops to nose at Wendy, who is uncertain about the water.

Smiling at their antics, I settle onto one of the wooden sun lounges to soak up the morning sunlight. The skin stretched across my shoulders, down my arms and along my legs is slowly browning into a shade I lost over the last few years because I rarely - if ever - left the house. Which, I suppose, worked in my favour. A red head wouldn't be naturally olive-skinned, would they? Which... I suppose it was lucky that Branson and Clyde allowed me to keep my hair dyed. They probably thought I looked cute with it. Or... maybe they knew...