Dead Ever After
him on the back a few times, but people were waiting for us to move so they could pull up to the pumps. I couldn’t leave without patting Annie, too, and congratulating her also on gaining a spouse. (Her last litter had been sired by Jimmie’s Catahoula, and surely her next one would be, too.) Annie seemed as pleased as Terry.
I was still smiling to myself as I stopped at the end of my driveway to check my mailbox. I told myself this was the last time I’d be out in the heat until tomorrow. I almost dreaded getting out of the airconditioned car again. In July, at seven o’clock, the sun was still up and would be for more than an hour. Though the temperature was no longer approaching one hundred, it was plenty hot. I still had sweat trickling down my back from pumping my gas. All I could think about was getting in my shower.
I didn’t even look through my little pile of mail. I tossed it on the kitchen counter and made a beeline for my bathroom, stripping off my sweaty clothes as I walked. A few seconds later, I was under a stream of water and blissfully happy. My cell phone rang while I was rinsing off, but I decided not to hurry. I was enjoying the shower too much. I toweled off and turned on my hair dryer. The whir of the warm air seemed to echo through the rooms.
I cast the chest of drawers a proud glance when I went in the bedroom. I knew everything in it was organized, as was everything in the night table and everything in the vanity. I didn’t have control over much in my life, but by golly, my drawers were tidy. I noticed one was pulled out, just a little. I frowned. I habitually pushed drawers all the way in. That was one of my mom’s rules, and though I’d lost her when I was only seven, it had stuck with me. Even Jason was careful to close drawers all the way.
I pulled it open and looked inside. My odds-and-ends drawer (stockings, scarves, evening purses, and belts) was still orderly, though the scarves didn’t seem to be lined up quite like I’d left them, and one of the brown belts was mixed in with the black belts. Huh. After staring at the drawer’s contents for a long moment, wishing I could get the items to talk, I pushed the drawer shut, this time making sure it closed properly. The sound of wood meeting wood was loud in the quiet house.
The big old place, which had sheltered Stackhouses for more than a hundred and fifty years, had never seemed particularly empty until I’d had long-term houseguests. After Amelia had left to go back to New Orleans to pay her debt to the coven, I’d felt like my home was a lonely place. But I’d readjusted. Then Claude and Dermot had moved in . . . and left for good. Now I felt like a small bee bumbling around inside an empty hive.
Just at this moment, I found it was actually comforting to think that across the cemetery, Bill would rise; but he was dead until dark.
I felt a touch of melancholy when I thought of Bill’s dark eyes, and slapped myself on the cheek. Okay, now I was just being silly. I wasn’t going to let sheer loneliness drive me back to my ex. I reminded myself I was still Eric Northman’s wife under vampire custom, though he wasn’t talking to me right now.
Though I was reluctant to attempt to approach Eric again for several reasons (I have my pride and it was hurt), I was sick of waiting and wondering what was happening in the closed society of the vampires.
Oh, sure , I reflected, they’re glad to see me when I have a good plan for killing someone, but when I want a relationship update, I’m not hearing from a single soul.
Not that I was bitter or anything. Or mad, or hurt. Or knew if vampires had souls.
I could feel myself shake all over like a dog coming out of a pond. Regret, impatience, flying off me. Was it my place to worry about souls? No. That was up to a higher power than me.
I glanced outside to see that it was just full dark. Before I could have another thought, I picked up my cell phone and speed-dialed Eric. I had to do this before I lost my nerve.
“Sookie,” he said, after the second ring, and I let myself feel surprised. I’d truly doubted he’d answer.
“We need to talk,” I said, making a huge effort to sound calm. “After my visit to Fangtasia, I understand that you’re dodging me. You made it clear that you don’t want me visiting the club. I assume you don’t want me dropping by your place, either. But you know we have to have a conversation.”
“Then talk.”
Okay, this was going
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