She blinked. “Okay.”
“I just went to Donald’s website,” I said.
“Yes.” She sat up and tugged at the comforter.
“And, um, he doesn’t seem entirely normal.”
Mom nodded wearily. “You know, Ally. We all have our little quirks. He’s a huge comic book fan. He’s really a decent guy though.”
“What if he’s not? What if he’s a serial killer and he chops you into bits?”
Mom winced. “He’s not, Ally. I don’t take my safety lightly. Stacy Barnett was by the office the other day. She’s the private investigator the firm uses.”
I nodded.
The brown smudges under her eyes added years to her appearance. “I had her do a background check. Everything looks fine.”
I crossed my arms. “All that means is that he hasn’t murdered anybody yet.”
“Right. And that’s all he knows about me too. I know it’s rough right now, but it will be okay. We may not really hit it off, but he won’t hurt me.”
Not like my dad did when he cheated on her. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was thinking it. “I’m going to bed now.”
“Good night, Sweetie. I love you.” She held out her arms and I leaned in for a hug. She squeezed extra tight, and for a moment I felt like a well-protected little girl again.
“I love you too,” I said and ambled back to my room. Compared to a brutal murder, a short-term abandonment seemed do-able.