Read Online Spitting Image by Patrick LeClerc - Free Book Online Page A

distant way you–she–was acting. And the guy is dashing and cultured and looks like Errol Flynn, so yeah, I was jealous. I was ready to take a swing at him.”
    I had been ready to murder him, dismember him and dispose of the body, but those are things best kept to oneself.
    “You were really that worried about losing me?” she asked.
    “Sarah, I love you. I love you more than anything. I want to be with you. Only you.”
    Her lip quivered. Big, fat tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. “I just worry, knowing what you’ve seen and the things you’ve done, that I just couldn’t hold your interest. That I was just a temporary distraction. That you’d get bored. Move on. I–you said–they said–I guess–oh, Jesus I don’t even know.” She bit her lip against the silent sobs that began to wrack her body.
    I put my arms around her, held her close. “Sarah,” I whispered, “whatever they said, it wasn’t me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to go chasing after something new, because I’ve already seen it, and I know what I want. I have exactly what I want right here and now. I want you.”
    She squeezed me tightly. “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “You’re not praying for the end of time? To hurry up and arrive?”
    I felt a weight lift from my chest. A suffocating blackness begin to fade. “Where else am I going to find a beautiful woman who can throw Meatloaf references around?”
    She didn’t reply. I just held her for a time, letting the silence be.
    Slowly, the silence stopped being comforting and became a thing of its own. A thing full of dread. It wasn’t the silence of two lovers drinking in the moment, it was the silence when the birds go quiet at the approach of danger. The hairs on the back of my neck began to rise. I didn’t hear the footfall of a predator or smell the coming storm or see a shadow of a raised blade fall over me, but it was there, hidden in the silence.
    It was a silence I was too afraid to break. I waited, not daring to breathe, frozen in the vain hope that the danger would pass me by. Like lying in that pool of blood on Culloden Moor, hoping that redcoat would just step over me.
    I heard Sarah take in a deep breath and knew it had found me, knew that the blow was coming.
    I had a moment of nostalgia for that Hanoverian bayonet.
    “Sean,” she said, her voice heavy with unshed tears.
    “Yes?” I forced the word out. Barely a whisper.
    “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
    She drew away.
    I let her. My arms fell to my sides. I didn’t say anything. Didn’t trust my voice.
    After a long moment she continued. “I love you. I know that. I can’t deny that. You make me laugh, you make me feel special and loved and wanted, and when I’m with you, I feel safe and warm and – like I’m home.”
    She sniffed, wiped her eyes. “But then this happens. I know there are ups and downs in any relationship, and the ups are really, really great, but the downs just aren’t even sane. Forget the sex with the fake me. That was only kinda- sorta cheating. I’m upset, but I understand. I’d get over that. It’s the whole bad comic book antagonist thing. I mean, it’s not like you have a jealous ex. You have ancient clan vendettas. If you had a drinking problem, or couldn’t hold down a job, that kind of thing we could work on. But you don’t have those kinds of problems.”
    “I’m willing to learn,” I offered with a brave attempt at a grin.
    Something halfway between a laugh and a sob escaped her, and she looked away. “Please don’t be charming right now. Don’t say anything, or I won’t be able to do this.”
    Well, that wasn’t much incentive. Kinda like somebody saying “Stand still so I don’t miss,” but I managed to just nod.
    “I need to think. Alone. I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t want to be kidnapped or beaten again. I know it’s not your fault, at least intentionally, but it’s because of who you are.”
    At