He was trying to let her save face, which only made her more indebted. “Uh-huh.”
“Annie, I don’t want your wine. This isn’t a big deal to me.”
“It’s a big deal to me.”
“All right. How’s this? No more Post-it notes on your door, and we’ll call it even.”
“Enjoy your wine.” She couldn’t think straight with him standing in front of her, oozing all those male pheromones, not after what had happened at the farmhouse. “Did you bring a gun?”
He didn’t press. “I’ve got it. Grab your coat.”
They went out on the marsh. After he’d gone through the basic rules of gun safety, he showed her how to load and fire the automatic pistol he’d chosen for her. The gun should have repelled Annie, but she liked shooting it. What she didn’t like was the unexpected eroticism of having Theo so close. They were barely inside the cottage before they were tearing off each other’s clothes.
“I DON’T WANT TO TALK about it,” she snarled at him later that night as they lay in her bed.
He yawned. “Fine by me. More than fine.”
“You can’t sleep here. You have to sleep in your own bed.”
He tried to settle her against his naked body. “I don’t want to sleep in my own bed.”
She didn’t want him to, either, but however murky some things might be, this was clear. “I want sex, not intimacy.”
He curled his hand around her rear. “Sex it is.”
She wiggled away. “You have two options. You can either sleep by yourself, or you can lie here for the next three hours and listen to the details of every crappy relationship I’ve ever had, why they were crappy, and why men suck. Warning. I cry ugly.”
He threw back the cover. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I thought so.”
ANNIE HAD GOTTEN WHAT SHE wanted from Theo—the best sex of her life—but she’d also set boundaries.
Very sensible, Dilly said. You’ve finally learned your lesson.
The next afternoon, Annie took Livia outside again. It was too windy for the beach, so they hung out on the front porch steps. Annie needed to know if she’d done any damage yesterday, and she propped Scamp on her knee. The puppet got straight to the point. “Are you mad at me for talking about your daddy when we went down to the beach?”
Livia pursed her lips, thinking it over, then slowly shook her head.
“Good,” Scamp said, “because I was worried you’d be mad.”
Livia shook her head again, then climbed up on the stone balustrade that had replaced the wooden spindles. She straddled the balustrade, her back to Annie.
Should she drop the subject or keep it on the table? She needed to do more research on mutism and childhood trauma. In the meantime, she would trust her instincts.
“I would hate it if I had a daddy that did bad things to my mommy,” Scamp said. “Especially if I couldn’t talk about it.”
Livia began riding the balustrade horse.
“Or sing about it. I believe I’ve mentioned that I’m an accomplished vocalist.” Scamp began singing a series of scales. It had taken Annie endless years of practice to sing well in the vocal registers of all her puppets, something that set her apart from most vents. Scamp finally stopped. “If you ever want me to sing another song about what happened, let me know.”
Livia quit riding her horse and turned around. She stared at Annie, then at Scamp.
“Yes or no?” Scamp chirped. “I shall abide by your wise decision.”
Livia dropped her head and picked at some residual pink nail polish on her thumbnail. A definite no. What had Annie expected? Did she really think her clumsy interference could unlock such a deep trauma?
Livia shifted her position on the balustrade so she was facing Annie. She slowly moved her head. A hesitant nod.
Annie felt as if her heart skipped a beat. “Very well,” Scamp said. “I shall call my song ‘The Ballad of Livia’s Terrible Experience.’ ” Annie stalled for time with some dramatic throat clearing. The best she could hope to do was drag the topic out of the darkness into the light. Maybe that would make it less taboo. She also needed to tell Jaycie about this. She began to sing softly.
“Little girls shouldn’t see bad things
But sometimes they do . . .”
She continued her song, making it up as she’d done yesterday, but this time keeping the tune more serious and avoiding any Olés. Livia listened to every word, then nodded at the end and went back to riding her balustrade horse.
Annie heard a noise behind her and turned.
Theo leaned against the corner of the house at the far end of the porch. Even from where she was, she could see the frown etched between his eyebrows. He’d overheard, and he was judging her for it.