“That’s classified.”
Maddie blows out a long breath that does nothing to hide the amusement shining in her eyes.
“Therealquestion is if you can kill someone with a spoon.”
“Maybe a spork.” Maddie snorts, a hand clasping over her mouth to stifle the sound.
The rest of our breakfastis surprisingly pleasant. Maddie asks me about my service and some questions about self-defense training. The vulnerability she lets seep out every time she talks about being attacked is ratcheting up my protective instincts to new heights, though I tamp it down and answer as professionally as possible. I want her to trust me and feel safe with me, which means I need to set clear boundaries for both of us.
Aside from her obvious annoyance and smart-mouthed remarks, Maddie doesn’t seem the least bit phased by my presence, which is exactly what I’m aiming for.
Eventually, we’re done eating, and it’s time to look through Maddie’s apartment, devise a plan and make sure she has everything ready for when we’ll need to go into hiding.
I start making my way down the hall when Maddie plants herself in front of me, arms crossed and a questioning gaze. “Uh, where do you think you’re going?”
“To inspect the house.”
“That’s the bedroom.” She indicates behind her back.
“Is the bedroom not part of the house?” Maddie glares at me, but there’s more desperation than menace to it. “You knew I’d have to go through theentirehouse, Maddie.”
“I know, it’s just…” She sighs, undoes her ponytail, then redoes it. “It’s just that I’m having enough trouble sleeping as it is, hearing everything bad that could happen to me in my bedroom…” She trails off again with a shrug, and I take a step closer.
“Look at me, Maddie.” I wait for her to lift her gaze to mine. “Part of my job is to make sure nothing bad happens to you. I’m not going in there to tell you all the dangers, I’m going in there to make sure you know all the escape routes so nothing can hurt you. I’m right here with you, for as long as you need me to be, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Her hand starts lifting as if to touch my chest, then drops. “Can I come in with you?”
“Of course, that’s even better.”
I step aside, letting Maddie lead the way into her light-pastel bedroom. It’s bright and inviting, exactly like I’d pictured it when we talked about everything we’d do together after the wedding, like me coming to visit her at home in Boston.
“This feels very homey for a pit stop.”
“I didn’t know how long I’d be here.” Maddie’s voice quivers a bit at her words, and I look at her face, but she’s like a blank sheet.
“Still,” I keep pushing as I bend down to look under her bed, seizing the excuse to feel the soft linen of her bedding, imagining it caressing her body every night.
“One-hundred percent Egyptian cotton,” Maddie says, crouching down next to me. “Once you go Egyptian, you can’t go back.”
“Are we still talking about the bedding?” I wonder with a barely contained grin. Maddie’s Egyptian heritage is something she takes great pride in, and those teasing cat-eyes are currently burning a hole through every promise I made to myself, to her, and to my boss. “Because Egyptian cotton is 100% percent American cotton seeds.”
Maddie’s about to answer when a ringing from the kitchen pulls us back to reality, and her face breaks into a bright smile.
“That’s my dad,” she says with barely contained excitement, and there she is, the girl I remember from that magical week, bursting out of her protective shell and making all the dim colors of the world come to vibrant life.
“I can wait until you're done, take a look around the rest of the house in the meantime.” I get up and offer her a helping hand. The joy overflowing from her must be pushing away her mistrust of me because she takes it with a firm grip and pulls herself up with a hop, hand resting on my chest to stabilize herself and a soft giggle as she looks up at me with shining eyes.
“Um, no it's fine, I don't want to keep you.” She offers a reassuring squeeze of my hand before hurrying to take the call in the living room, the excited voices of her sister and nieces fills the apartment. I listen to her as I keep conducting my sweep, to those soft coos and rolling laughter when one of the twins says something ridiculous yet somehow logical for a four-year-old.
I hear the way she talks to her dad, telling him she misses him and practically hearing the eye roll when she answers him that yes, she’s getting enough sleep andrealfood.
This warm and affectionate side is something I wish I could inspire in Maddie, be on the receiving end of again, especially as I explore her personal space.
Her home is a combination of slightly messy with things you can tell she likes placed just so, such as family photos and potted plants immaculately positioned versus slippers thrown at the door to her bathroom and a pile of unmatched socks discarded on the couch.
Beautifully thought-out chaos, just like Maddie.
Every turn is another test of my willpower, but most of all, the shower. I walk in hellbent on sticking to my mission, and I do until I open the glass doors of the shower and see Maddie’s shower gel—Orchid Silk—a fancy boutique soap that costs way too much to be worth it.