He’s nowhere to be found, of course. Why stick around to deal with the consequences of his actions? Not that I’d really throw a cat out a high-rise window, but I want to at least threaten him with the possibility.
Maybe I can strip the sheets and the smell won’t be too bad?
I take a step toward the bed…and gag. Nope, that’s not going to work. If the smell is this bad, then he soaked the bedding and probably the mattress, too. “Of course Malone would have a demon cat that destroys everything and then pisses on it for good measure. It’s the animal version of her, but at least she has some control.”
“So glad you think so.”
I close my eyes and spend a full five seconds wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole. “Your cat is a monster,” I say without turning around.
“Rogue is particular.” She clears her throat. “Let’s continue this conversation in the hall.”
I don’t know why it makes her seem a little more human that the smell seems to bother her as much as it bothers me, but it does. I back slowly out of the room, and Malone shuts the door. We both take slow breaths. I rub my nose. “You say particular, but I’m hearing sadistic.”
“I don’t have guests often.” She contemplates my closed door. “Apparently he’s feeling threatened.”
“Or he’s just a dick.”
Her lips curve. “Or he’s just a dick.”
I look around. “Where is the little monster? He and I are going to have a chat.”
“Rogue knows how to make himself scarce after he destroys something.”
The way she says it so easily… I stare. “Does your cat often destroy furniture?”
“At least quarterly.” She shrugs and heads down the hallway in the opposite direction from the bedrooms. “As I said, he’s particular.”
Malone keeps a cat that actively destroys furniture. I haven’t seen any evidence of it in the house, which means she must replace the pieces after he fucks them up. The fact that she keeps the cat, even seems to love him despite it… It doesn’t fit in with the picture of Malone I’ve crafted over the years. Very little tonight has fit in with that picture, and I don’t know how to adjust.
It doesn’t change what she did. Nothing can change that.
But she’s more complicated than I first imagined. It was easy enough to imagine killing her when I thought her a cold monster. Now, I don’t know what to feel. Her actions are unforgivable, but she’s got layers that I can’t help but sympathize with. It doesn’t make me hate her less…except the deep rage I’ve had in my chest for so long feels strangely blunted.
I’m tired, that’s all. A simple explanation that I’m overthinking.
I follow Malone into the kitchen and watch as she pours two glasses of wine. She raises her brows at me as if daring me to challenge her. I decide to pick my battles and take the offered glass without complaint. It’s an expensive vintage, and I relish the flavor profiles sliding over my tongue. “This is very good.”
“I know.” Malone props a hip against the counter and studies me the same way she studied the guest bedroom door. “Do you have any family beyond your grandmother, Aurora?”
“No. She’s all I have.” Rage has me weaving on my feet. I almost thank her for the reminder, for unearthing my reason for hating her so intensely. “Or all I used to have.” I know Malone will assume the person I’m grieving is my grandmother, and I’m only too happy to let her make that mistake. The truth is that my grandmother passed six years ago in her sleep. It was a peaceful way to go, the way she said she always wanted, and though I grieved her, there was a strange sort of peace mixed in because she was finally at rest.
There’s no peace when it comes to my mother.
“Ah.” She sips her wine, still watching me closely. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s picked up more in those three words than I meant her to. “I’ll have the mattress and bedding replaced tomorrow. The couch is chic but freakishly uncomfortable. You’ll sleep with me tonight.”
I blink. “What?”
“I did mention that I’m not in the habit of repeating myself.”
She did, but I still can’t wrap my head around how quickly this happened. Malone is letting me into her inner sanctum. No matter how intense she is, eventually she’ll have to sleep. This could end tonight.
The knowledge is a stone in my stomach, weighing me down. I sip my wine through numb lips. When I originally set myself down this path, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my heart. Now? Now, down is up and up is down. I don’t know what I’m feeling. I should want to end this woman, to make her pay for the pain she’s caused me, the mother she took from me. For the memories that grow hazier every year, ones that I can never replace. The woman who birthed me is gone, body and soul. She’s never going to wake up. Never going to smile. Never going to hug me again.