housekeeper

19. A week and a date.

(Vanessa)

I gave my statement on the incident to a female officer. Recounting the events was quite confronting, and I was acutely aware of the bandage on my neck, particularly when discussing the knife. Although it was considerate of Dave to allow me to be present during his police statement, it wasn't essential.

The drive to Dave's house was tranquil, with only the soft music playing in the background. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes at any moment, and I'm overwhelmed by fatigue. I lean my head against the headrest, looking out the side window as the world outside becomes a blur, emptying my mind.

Touching the bandage, I know Dave hasn't noticed it when he asks, "Vanessa, are you okay?"

I offer him a smile, despite the evident sorrow on my face. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just relieved it's over. And you? How are you feeling?"

"Tired," He admits.

"Me too," I say.

And then silence falls once more.

We exchange a knowing smile before his attention returns to the road.

"Thanks again for driving. I'd rather not have too many people see me in this state."

"You should give Stephanie a call or send her a message to update her. She's worried and might fly back home soon."

"No, I don't want her to worry or come back on my account. I'll reach out to her, but first, I need to rest once we arrive at your place."

"Will you also be staying overnight?" he inquires gently.

"Would that be okay with you?"

Dave grasps my hand and plants a gentle, tender kiss on the back of it.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need. My guest room and sofa are yours to use."

"Thank you, that means a lot to me."

"There's no need for formalities; you're my girlfriend, and it's only natural that I look after you."

He plants another kiss on my hand before he requires it to change gears.

As we pull into Dave's driveway, I straighten up in my seat. We stop in front of the opening garage door.

After he parks his car, I ask, "Dave?"

"Mhmm," he replies.

"You look exhausted. You should rest."

"Like you, but we need to eat first. I'm starving. What do you want to eat?"

"I'm not that hungry."

"Vanessa, you need to eat something," Dave insists, his concern apparent.

"I'll eat. Just don't expect a lot."

"It would make me happy if you ate something," he says, opening the door.

I unfasten my seatbelt and pick up my purse from the floor as my door is opened. I give Dave a smile as I take his extended hand.

As we enter the kitchen, a woman is wiping the cabinet doors. She appeared startled by our presence.

"Barbara, is there any food?" Dave asks, turning to the woman who is staring at me, mouth agape. She shakes her head at Dave in response.

"I didn't know you'd be dining here today, Mr. Lavens. We do have brown bread and charcuterie, though. And there's tomato soup, freshly made."

"Could you heat the soup for us?"