“Yeah. It’s just…” I shook my head. How could I explain this weird feeling that wasn’t based on anything concrete? Just my gut?

“I told you I’d take care of her. Trust me, okay?”

I gritted my teeth. Did I have a choice? I was supposed to be the one taking care of her. “I’m gonna take off.”

Heath stood and walked me to the door, opening it for me. “Thanks, man. Great day. Now go put some ice on those welts, ya pussy.”

“Fuck you,” I said and laughed.

“See you next weekend? Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel?”

“Yeah. See ya then.”

Out in the parking lot, I hesitated before sliding behind the wheel of my car, unable to shake that dark feeling that grew from Emilia’s unusual behavior. I braced myself, told myself I was being paranoid, and started the car, trying to dispel these new dark feelings. Unfortunately that Zen I was seeking eluded me. I found myself constantly questioning, constantly mulling over the questions in my mind. One thing was for certain, she was stuck in my brain, on my skin, indelible and permanent, like a tattoo. Even while I slept.

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Sunday, I woke up with a raging hard-on after having dreamt of Emilia pretty much the whole night and reaching for her while still mostly asleep. When my arms turned up empty, I rolled flat on my back, thinking of all the ways I’d done her while in dreamland. Without the regular sex, my subconscious was having a field day, fueled by the starving libido.

As I’d done too often of late, I found it necessary to rub one out in the shower that morning. It took the edge off, but I topped it with a rigorous workout. By noon, I wanted to call her, but knew she’d be at family dinner that evening. Peter had invited us both and—weirdly—Kim, too. So going with my new philosophy of waiting for her to come to me, I decided I wouldn’t call or text her before I saw her that night.

Instead I sat down to work on a new project—because I now refused to do job stuff on the weekend unless I was dealing with impossible lawsuits or the Con preparations. And in my mind I justified it as a hobby, not real work. It was an exciting idea to develop a science fiction game set in space, which interconnected across different social media platforms—Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Tumblr, possibly others—I hadn’t gotten that far yet. As it was in its embryonic stage, I hadn’t spoken about it to anyone, not even Emilia.

I burned the whole afternoon working on it, until it was time to go to my uncle’s. I dressed in my best casual attire, including a red shirt, not a color I particularly liked (even aside from the double meaning of redshirt as a doomed Star Trek extra). I only chose it because Emilia had once said she loved the shirt. So I made sure to look my best. Bait and all that.

When I got to Peter’s, he was preparing dinner in the kitchen with Kim. I brought my customary bottle of wine and a box of pastries from the bakery for dessert. When I walked through the door, Kim brightened, looking expectantly over my shoulder.

“Hey Adam! How’s…” When she didn’t see what she was looking for, she frowned. “Where’s Mia? She not coming?”

I set down the wine and the bakery box. “I’m pretty sure she’s coming.”

Kim looked baffled. Peter glanced at her and turned to me. “But…wouldn’t she have come with you? Or did you have to work today?”

I froze. I’d assumed they knew about Emilia moving out. Oh shit. Well, this sucked. “I came from home, but…she’s staying with Heath for a little while.”

Kim frowned and shook her head, turned to walk out of the room muttering something about finding her phone. Peter never took his eyes off me. We shared a long, tense moment.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

I took a deep breath. “Not really.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He glanced at the doorway where Kim had disappeared, concern etched on his features. “She’s worried about Mia.”

I tensed. “Why’s that?”

“She hasn’t answered Kim’s calls or texts for a while.”

It wasn’t like Emilia to shut out her mother. In fact, it was downright bizarre. I covered my shock by scratching my jaw. “Hmm. Weird.”

“Did you guys…break up?”

“No. We’re just…taking a break from living together.”

He nodded.

I pulled out my phone and checked for texts. Nothing. I tapped out a message.

Did you remember about family dinner? People are wondering where you are.