They ordered pancakes and ate them nude on the living room floor. It was so ridiculous and new to both of them that she couldn’t stifle her own laughter.
“If I’d realized how long the clothes were going to take, I would have suggested something less sticky.” The bite of pancake he had speared on his fork was threatening his chest hair with dripping syrup. "I feel like I'm moments away from accidentally waxing some delicate areas."
“I would’ve asked for more napkins.” Jacqueline sipped from a decaf chai latte she’d ordered. She was already done with her food.
“How’s your drink?”
“It’s good.” She would have to get rid of the coffee she had in the house, wouldn’t she? Maybe she could send it all off with Vincent when he left. She was going to miss caffeine.
“You said something about wanting to visit my grandparent’s house, right? Or did I mishear you?”
“Oh, yeah! The sooner the better. When works for you?” Jacqueline took another sip of her drink to warm herself up. It was summer, but the apartment felt exceptionally chilly without clothes on.
“I’m free for the rest of the day. I agree with you, the sooner the better. Especially since I’ll have to be alerting Bradley about the new situation.” Vincent finished off his pancakes. He managed not to get any of the syrup on himself, but in his efforts he endangered the carpet. Not a difficult clean up, at least.
“Who’s Bradley?”
“One of my tenants. This is his third year living at the house. We're kinda close, actually. Do you think the dryer’s done yet?”
Jacqueline shrugged. “It’s gotta be. No harm in checking.”
Vincent stood up and stretched. He yawned into the back of his hand. “God, that made me tired.”
Jacqueline laughed. “You just had a big cup of coffee, how could you be tired?”
“I also ate my weight in pancakes.” He countered. “Anyway, coffee’s never really had that effect on me. I just drink it because I like the taste.”
Vincent held his hands out in a silent plea for her empty takeout box. She gathered up all the trash on the floor and set it in his waiting arms.
“So you’re saying you’re a psycho?”
She’d meant it as a joke, but the way he paled and nearly dropped everything wasn’t funny at all. “What?”
“Nothing! It was just something I read once. People with psychopathic tendencies prefer things that taste bitter. It was just a joke. That’s all.”
His breathing sounded bad. Ragged, but he was getting it under control. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Vincent nodded, the natural color returning to his face. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Jacqueline.”
“Of course, you’re right.”
He turned away and left her on the living room floor. She heard him deposit the trash into the can and go to the dryer. From the sound of it, his clothes were done. That meant she could finally get dressed, too.
She opted for something light. There was a summer dress from the back of her closet she liked to wear on days like this where she knew she had to go out but felt too lazy to put any effort into her appearance. It wasn’t anything special, but she didn’t have to wear a bra with it. That was the most important thing.
Vincent padded into her bedroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly like a kid would. She was surprised to see he was only in his boxers.
“I thought we were going?”
“Sorry Jacqueline, I…” he stifled a yawn with his hand again, “I could really use a nap. I’m sorry I’m being so lazy today, I know you want to go check out the house. Is twenty minutes okay?”
“You don’t need to apologize for being tired. I just wanted clarification. We can leave whenever you feel up to it.”
He smiled appreciatively and slid under her covers. Now he was just a lump in her bed. “Thanks. Twenty minutes, promise.”
“Okay, okay!” Jacqueline laughed. “Twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes was what Vincent needed to decompress and think. He knew she hadn’t meant anything by it when she called him a psycho. It was just a joke. A bad joke, one that she seemed to regret the moment it left her mouth. He knew Jacqueline wasn’t serious. Still, it stirred things up in him. Things that were better left unspoken, but were impossible to forget.
So here he was. He was curled around himself in the fetal position, feeling childish and stupid. What was he supposed to do now?
What if she wanted to talk about it? For the most part, Jacqueline was the type to let things be. Most likely that was because she didn’t want to invite any questions about her own past that were too uncomfortable to answer.
But, with them getting married and having a baby… what if she felt differently now? Bolder? More willing to open up?
That would mean she expected the same from him.
And that would mean he would have to talk about himself. In this case, he would have to talk about his mother.
It was her he’d thought of when Jacqueline called him a psycho. The way she’d screamed that day in the motel. The overpowering smell of blood. The salty taste of it in his mouth. The way the image of her blurred that final day he saw her in court. How even then, she continued to call him that. A psycho. A monster. A horrible thing. The worst mistake she'd ever made.
How was he supposed to tell any of that to Jacqueline?
He couldn’t.
...he didn’t want to, anyway.
So, if she did end up asking, what would he say instead? Nothing? That wouldn’t work. He’d clearly reacted. He couldn’t play this off. He couldn’t come clean about it, either. He’d have to come up with a lie. Something that felt real. Truthful. Something she would believe.
Vincent’s stomach was starting to churn. Thinking about his mother always did that. It had been so long since she'd invaded his mind, he’d hoped he was better by now. Ever since he’d started seeing Jacqueline he’d realized he wasn’t as over the past as he originally thought.
Of course, it was his inability to let go that led him to Jacqueline again in the first place.
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