“Is that the only reason you came?” I ask, reaching up to brush some hair away from her pale face. Robbie's blue eyes look everywhere but at me before she pushes past me and starts down the hall, venturing further than any woman before her, diving deep into the heart of my house. Like a bear whose cave is being encroached upon, I slink after her, baring my teeth.
“I saw the paint cans in your hand,” she explains as she swings around the doorway into the spare bedroom. From the day I moved in, this room has been underutilized. I've always called it my office, but what use do I have for one? I've got a laptop that travels and a career that requires absolutely zero paperwork. There's a mahogany desk against one wall, a pair of white gauze curtains left by the previous owners and a bookcase filled with senseless fiction novels – the only kind I'll read. Robbie spots them right away, and my hackles raise as her fingers brush the spine of the only book I give two shits about. Aliyah's book, my mind screams at the same time my body freezes in place. Why can't I move? Storm across the room and rip the text angrily from her fingers? That would send Robbie running again, I'm sure of it. Instead, I do nothing, and Margarite's words begin to etch themselves into my brain. Pussy. Wimp. Love. I swallow and know that I'm nowhere near that last word, but that I almost … want to be. How dreadful.
“To Luke,” Robbie reads, her words like the fragrant blossom of lilies, staining the air with sweetness that I know will never last. I close my eyes and try not to let the sound carry me into the past. “May you know the dual blessings of choice and opportunity. I love you. Stay perfectly imperfect for me, 'kay? Aliyah.” In my head, I see brown eyes and long, dark hair. I see bow tie lips that smile too much, cheeks carved by Greek gods, and skin like mocha. I see Aliyah's teeth, bright in the darkness of the driveway, smiling at me as I pull away. I see a coffin, its shiny white surface an affront to everything I ever loved and believed in.
My lips pull back in a snarl, like I really am this metaphysical beast I'm always going on about. Robbie pauses briefly before glancing over her shoulder at me. When she sees my facial expression, her entire body goes still.
“And who do you think that might be from?” I ask, my voice eerily calm, at odds with the wild expression I know is stretching across my face. Like some fucking fairytale princess, like a beauty with a beast, Robbie closes the book and tucks it against her chest before coming over to me and pressing the lightest of kisses against my wild mouth.
“I don't know, Luke, who is it?” she asks softly, gasping in pain when my fingers find her upper arms and shake her, gently. Oh so gently. But I'm holding back and it hurts, really, really hurts.
“Why are you here, Robbie? You've seen what I can do. You should run far, far away. I'm not a damaged man who needs to be fixed; I'm a monster that can't be changed. It would be detrimental for you if you even tried.”
“Is that why you're hesitating, Luke? You're afraid for me?” Robbie slides her arms from my grip and steps back, pulling the book away from her chest and touching it reverently with her fingertips. “Because something happened to Aliyah?”
“I didn't lay a finger on her!” I don't mean to scream, but even the slight implied notion that I could've hurt the love of my life infuriates me to a point where even the beast means nothing. Hurt Aliyah? I'd have rather cut off my own dick and fed it to a pack of dogs. But her brother … He's the one monster I haven't been able to track down, and I just know he's out there somewhere living a life he doesn't deserve. The measly eight years he spent in jail was nothing compared to the pain he inflicted. Since he gave birth to my demon, I feel like he owes him at least a single meeting – one that he absolutely will not walk away from. Just as soon as I find him … As soon as I hunt him down.
“I know you didn't, Luke. I know you wouldn't hurt somebody you cared about.” Robbie fingers through the pages, her gaze on the shape of the words if not the meaning. I let my head fall back and swallow a deep breath, one that makes my chest ache.
“But how, Robbie? How do you know that? We've hardly spent any time together.” I keep my gaze on the off-white ceiling, the one I plan on painting today. White is acceptable; off-white is not. It looks dirty to me, and I can't abide by that.
“Do you believe in love at first sight, Luke?”
“No.” I drop my head and gaze into Robbie's bright blue eyes, so full of energy and light that I start to shrink away, like a vampire faced with the blinding rays of the sun. “No, I don't. Love is work, hard-earned and difficult to wrap your fingers around. It takes time and attention.”