TIFFIN 4

31

Perhaps it was stupid to forgo any sense of morality amidst rushing from our enterprise, but Hero became my utmost priority. Did this make me stupid? Maybe, maybe not. Hopefully- for the last time- he chose his loyalties correctly. But for now, the tattooed man I loved so much was in distress. How could he have just caught onto the fact Diedre saw him romantically? Obviously not thinking clearly I ordered an Uber, cuddling him while we waited. 

"God. Kristina. I'm so fucking sorry..." 

"It's okay, baby. I love you. Just promise to never do anything like this again." 

"I promise." 

Didn't find the need to reply. Just gathered my husband close attempting to ease any sort of trauma. God... How could anyone- male or female- put their grandchildren through such PTSD? It was wrong under so many levels. Someone at such a young age to begin with couldn't carry the maturity to consent. Even the fact the nasty molester forced her own daughter to repeat the very same fate... Oh, Dorinda. How you suffered. 

Before long, our blue pickup arrived, Hero still in anguish. Mr. Soul Patch Mustache blanched as if worried we'd axe-murder him but eventually began making conversation:

"Guy escape from the insane asylum?" 

I stilled at this comment, ready to fight for my lovers ego. How rude! Recognizing my glare said driver whistled, fingers tapping on the wheel. 

"People always say I should shut my mouth before... Oh, let's start over. Guess he's having a bad day?"

Yeah. Freaking understatement. 

"Yes. Just take the road up here." 

And with a nod our driver did just that. 

Later when we reached the front of Emma and Archie's driveway something seemed... Off. Maybe it was due to Diedre's warning but an errie presence lingered almost as if-

"Uh... Mom?"

At once- much to my horror- both Emma and Elouise carried empty cardboard boxes. What in the hell was happening? Would my birth mother actually have accepted that petty money offer? Like some child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she paused, immediately apologizing. Elouise, on the other hand, smirked. 

"Sweety... I... It's not what it looks like!" 

"Well, well, daughter of mine. Nice to see outside of the slammer. Charlie isn't pleased." 

Anger did hit, yes, but only one thought remained:

"Where's Eleanor?" 

Then- on cue- an unfamiliar figure stepped from the front door of said cabin, holding my little girl. My flesh and blood. Hero charged, ready for battle.