Deklan recovers quickly, and within a couple of weeks, everything is back to status quo.  The only evidence of his ordeal is another thin scar on his body, this one on the left side of his abdomen.  I have no idea what happened with the police or the man Deklan apparently shot, and he won’t tell me any details.  He just says it’s all been dealt with and not to worry.

I hear that a lot.

I walk slowly to the coffee shop down the street.  It’s my morning ritual, sanctified by my paranoid husband, and one of the highlights of my day.  I can keep my phone on, chat with Kathy on her work break, and get outside for a few minutes.

“How’s the housewife life?” Kathy asks.

“About the same.”  I take my coffee from Terry the barista and ignore his wink as he mentions extra whipped cream—again.  He always gives me extra whipped cream although I have never asked for it.  His smile is friendly though, so I don’t mind the mild flirtation.

“So, the sex is still hot?”

“Oh yes, most certainly.  I must be developing some kind of resistance because I’m not nearly as sore as I was in the beginning.”

“Your va-jay-jay is getting callouses.”  Kathy laughs loudly.

“I sure hope not!”  I chuckle.  “I don’t think Deklan would like that much.  He does like to leave the house with me horny as hell.  I’m going to have to get a vibrator or something.”

“Oh, I have just the one for you!  It’s called Shalimar.  I’ll send you the link.”

“Shalimar?”

“It’s purple and sparkles.”

“A glittery vibrator?  You are not right in the head.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

I shake my head and take a big swig from the coffee cup.  It’s finally cooled down to the perfect temperature.  I lean back in my seat and scan the coffee shop.  There are a handful of guys with beards and plaid shirts, a collection of female college students discussing the environment, and one older couple ordering cranberry scones.  Near the counter, there’s a “Help Wanted” sign written in black Sharpie.

I wonder what sort of experience someone has to have in order to be a barista.  I take a closer look at Terry.  He smiles broadly at every customer, and his eyes sparkle with genuine affection.

I wonder if I could fake that?

Kathy prattles on about baby goat heads and office gossip, but my focus is drawn to the man in the back of the coffee shop.  He’s tall and thin, in his mid-thirties with plain brown hair, dull-colored clothing, and an overall nondescript look about him.  I hadn’t noticed him when I walked in, but he keeps glancing at me, and it’s making me nervous.

I’ve seen him here before.  In fact, when I think about it, I realize he’s here at the same time I am nearly every day.  He holds a newspaper that partially covers his face.

Who actually reads newspapers anymore?

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, Kathy.  I got distracted.  I’m listening.”

“Some hot guy walk in?”

“No.”  I laugh.  “There is a guy here though.  I’ve seen him before.”

“Is he cute?”

“No, not really.  He just keeps looking at me.”

“I bet that husband of yours has him watching out for you.”

“You think?”

“Yep.”  I hear her take a long drag on her cigarette.  “I gotta get back to it.  Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.  Enjoy the rest of your day!”  I disconnect the call and toss my cup into the trash before heading out the door.  The guy at the back of the coffee shop sets his newspaper aside and starts to get up just after I do.

I wonder if Kathy is right, and this guy really is here at Deklan’s request.  Would my husband go so far as to have me followed when I leave the apartment?

Yes.  Yes, he would.

My suspicions are confirmed when I get back to the apartment building and glance over my shoulder.  The same man rounds the corner, sees me looking at him, and quickly crosses the street.

Subtle.

I’m annoyed as I head into the building and down the hall.  I don’t like the idea of being followed.  I consider confronting Deklan about it, but if I did, he’d just find someone else to keep an eye on me.  That someone might be more discreet, and I might not notice him.  I prefer to know who is watching over me and decide not to mention the man to Dek.

Besides, I have something else I want to discuss with him, and it’s best to fight one battle at a time.

For dinner, I make one of Deklan’s favorite dishes.  I set up a couple of candles on the kitchen island and even acquire a bottle of wine using the sturdy stepstool Deklan bought so I can reach the top shelves.  I also change my clothes to tight-fitting leggings, lacy underwear, and a low-cut shirt.  I ditch my bra altogether.

I might not have a lot in my arsenal of male seduction methods, but I know how to arm myself with what I have.

I look over the spread, and a thought occurs to me: I’m being far too obvious.  Deklan is going to take one look at all of this and know I’m up to something.  I need to be more subtle than the guy Deklan has following me, so I put the wine and the candles away.

Hopefully, favorite foods and revealing clothing will be enough.

Just as I’m finishing up the cooking, Deklan arrives home, on time and hungry.

“This”—Deklan uses his fork to point at the half-eaten food on his plate—“is exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad I could help.”  I smile as I lean up against him.  I run my hand over his thigh for good measure, and he turns his head to press his lips to mine.  “Did you have a long day?”

“Felt like it.”  He shovels another forkful into his mouth.  “Just too much bullshit and not enough business.”

“Who is doing the bullshitting?”

“Doesn’t matter.”  Deklan takes a drink from his glass of water and glances at me sideways.  “I shouldn’t have brought it up since I’m not going to talk about it.  How was your day?”

I’m still frustrated by my husband’s refusal to discuss business with me.

“It was fine.”  I’m not quite ready to spring my question on Deklan, so I lean against him again, my hand still on his leg.  I press my cheek to his arm and smile when he looks at me.

“You are very obvious, you know,” he says.

“Obvious?”

“You want something.  Out with it.”

I look away from him and bite my lip.  I’m caught off guard, and though I had a wonderful speech all prepared, I can’t seem to remember a word of it.

“I, um…I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“It’s about how I’ve been spending my days.”

Deklan’s eyes narrow and his shoulders tense.  I don’t know what he’s got going on inside his head, but it must be bad, so I quickly start explaining myself.

“Cleaning this entire place from top to bottom takes about an hour and a half.  Doing that every day is pretty much pointless.  I can only cook so much for two people.  You say it’s too dangerous to have internet access, and I can’t use my phone here.  I’m bored, Deklan, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

“What do you want to do?  Go to school or something?  There’s a community college not far from here.”

I sigh heavily.

“You remember I was home-schooled and mostly self-taught, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They weren’t just high school courses.  I have degrees in English, communications, accounting, and philosophy.  I know they’re all online degrees, and the universities aren’t accredited or anything, but I wasn’t in any kind of sports, didn’t have many friends, and didn’t really go out much.  I had a lot of time on my hands.”

“That is a lot,” he says.

“Yes, it is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to go to school.”

“I do not.”  I run my hand a little further up his leg.  “I need to get out more, Dek.  Even when I was with my parents, I had more of a social life than I do now.  I didn’t get out much, but I did get out and see people sometimes.  I need to interact with other people.”

“What do you want to do, Kera?”

“I want to get a job.”

“You don’t need to get a job,” Deklan says.  “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, and you don’t seem to be much of a big spender.”

“I’m not.  Money isn’t the issue.  I want to get out and be with people.  See people.  Act like a normal human being.”

“What kind of job do you want?”

“The coffee shop is hiring.”

“You want to dole out overpriced coffee to a bunch of hipsters?”

“Not just coffee,” I say with a smile.  “They have scones, too!”

Deklan looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I want to get out of this apartment for more than twenty minutes at a time.”  I sigh and reach for his hand.

Deklan scowls, pulls his hand away, and pushes himself out of the chair.  Without a word, he grabs the dishes from the kitchen island and rinses them in the sink.

My body sinks into the chair and my throat tightens.  I was so hopeful, but now I can see he isn’t going to allow it, and I’m going to be stuck inside this apartment forever.

“I don’t like it,” he suddenly says.  “I can’t pretend that I do.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a housewife.”

“I’m getting that idea.”  Deklan abandons the dishes and returns to me.  He swivels me around on the barstool and wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest.  “I worry about you.  At least here, I know you are reasonably safe.  When you’re out and about, I can’t stop thinking of how vulnerable you are.”

I want to call him out on the man he has following me, but I think better of it.  I don’t want him to know that I’ve noticed.

“I worry about you, too,” I tell him.  “At least I don’t end up in the hospital.”

“You ended up in the hospital before you made it a full twenty-four hours here,” he says.

“Touché.”  I smile grimly.  “It’s not the same, though.  Ever since you were stabbed, I think about Brian coming to the door and telling me something worse has happened.”

“I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you do.  Shit can still happen.”  I look at him pointedly, but he can’t argue with me on that one and doesn’t try.

“And how much shit can happen when you don’t know how to take care of yourself?”  Deklan holds me tighter.

“So, your solution is to keep me in a tall tower?  Shouldn’t I at least have a handmaiden for company?”

“Don’t tempt me.”  Deklan steps back and places his hands on my cheeks.  He stares at me as he inhales deeply.  “You’re not a prisoner here.  I’m not going to say I like it—I don’t—but I’m not going to stop you.  If you want a job, go get one.”

Relief pours through me as I reach out and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Deklan!  You have no idea how much this means to me!”

“Enough for you to go all out with dinner and wear clothes you know I just want to tear off of you.  I’m surprised you didn’t try to ply me with wine, too.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile.

“There’s a condition,” Deklan says.

“What’s that?”

“I’m teaching you to shoot.”

“A gun?”

“No—pool.”  He laughs.  “Yes, a gun.  I’ll get you a small caliber one, teach you to use it, and you’ll keep it with you all the time.”

“Do I really need something like that?”

“Hopefully not, but if you are going to be out and about when I’m not around, you’re going to have one anyway.  How badly do you want that job?”

“Badly.”

“Then you’ll learn to shoot.”