Ogre

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I haven’t been home since the day I tricked Vidalia into coming with me. My place is a studio with a view of a gas station. My bed has never been made in the entire time I’ve lived here. The sink is full of coffee cups but no plates because I never eat at home.

If I had any idea Vidalia might walk into my place, I’d have hired someone to scrub it from top to bottom. Instead, I open the door and wait for her to think I’m a slob.

“We’ll need a bigger place,” Vidalia says, entering the apartment. “I don’t have many things, but pets take space, and you said we could get them, right?”

Her words are like music. The certainty behind them makes me wonder if she’s drunk, though.

“What changed?” I ask after locking the door. “You left suddenly, ignored me for days, and now you’re ready to live together.”

Vidalia shoves a pair of jeans off my bed and sits down. “I’ve been good and done the right things in life. I’ve never been reckless. The night I met you was the first time I’d gotten drunk. One taste of the wrong choice led me into your arms. Your stunt to get me alone was all kinds of wrong, but I was happier than I’ve ever been before. I realize now for me that embracing the wrong choice, you know, like moving in with someone I just met, is the right choice.”

“So,” I mumble and think over her words, “you’re saying I’m a wrong choice?”

“Wouldn’t you agree? What kind of right choice man would lie like you did?”

“And you’re settling for the bad guy?”

“Gunnar, you ought to be thinking about getting laid now that I’m alone in your place and I’m not wearing panties.”

Kicking at the floor. I sigh. “I don’t like you thinking I’m a bad choice.”

“Why, though? You’re a biker in a criminal biker club. You beat people up for a living. You used to fight guys in a frigging cage. You are not the nice boy next door, but that’s okay because I’m not the nice girl next door I pretend to be. I have more fun doing the wrong things. My mom got boring when she fell in love, but I’ve gotten immensely more interesting since meeting you.”

I scratch my jaw, considering everything she’s saying. Is she embracing the idea of us out of desperation or a last fling before she goes straight? I’ve heard of women hooking up with men like me for the wrong reasons, but I’ve never heard of them so excited about making the wrong choice.

“What if I go down on you?” I ask, flopping on the bed and nearly bouncing her off. “I could help with the tenderness.”

Vidalia kicks off her damp shoes and then pulls off her nightgown. “No.”

“How come?”

“I’m nervous. Can’t you give me one of your dry shirts and cuddle with me until I feel comfortable?”

“Wait,” I say, bolting off the bed and hurrying to the closet where I find a T-shirt big enough for her to wear as a dress. “I’ll get you a towel for your hair.”

Rushing to the bathroom, I dig through my linen closet and search for a non-stained towel. I finally give up and grab whatever’s closest. By the time I return to the main room, Vidalia is wearing my shirt and nothing else. Resting on her back with her knees swinging in the air, she gives me a delicious view of her lack of panties.

I crawl onto the bed and help her wrap her long hair in the towel. “One of the club’s old ladies is a realtor. She can help us find a new place.”

Vidalia takes my hand and places it on her stomach. “What do you see for our future? Is it full of insane hopes or are there things we can actually have?”

“I only see you. You’re what I want.”

“What if you stop wanting me?” she asks and then throws up her hand. “No, don’t answer that. Those kinds of worries are for the right thinking Vi. She isn’t running the show anymore. The wrong thinking Vi is, and she’s jumping into this relationship with both feet.”

My lips caress her temple, and I inhale her chilled scent. Wrapping her in my arms, I want to warm us both while also keeping her from running if her mind changes again. Vidalia probably knows what I’m doing because she reaches up to tenderly scratch my scalp. Her touch is so gentle that my concerns disappear.

“You’re going to make a great mama one day,” I whisper after turning off the light and covering us with blankets.

Vidalia closes her eyes and smiles. “I can see that. I see our babies playing with Heidi’s. Oh, but what if they’re allergic to pets like Reg and my mom?”

“Who is asking that question?

“Yeah, I shouldn’t worry about every possible thing. I’ll embrace what I do know, which is that I love you.”

Vidalia Cornish loves me. For the first time since I met her, I know she understands how she’s mine, and it’s the greatest fucking feeling in the world.