Burned

12

            Alfie wasn't sure what he liked better, Louise in an evening gown, a nightgown, trousers, or nothing at all. Most likely, she could wear anything and he'd still feel weak. Like other men, he was trying to get accustomed to the growing trend of women's trousers. But when he saw her in baggy khaki pants rolled up to her shins and wearing one of his white button-down shirts, he nearly crumbled.

            She was reading in the sunroom, curled up in an armchair. Her hair was loose and natural instead of in curls. Her bare feet dangled over the cushioned arm of the chair, lazily swinging as she read. Cyril lay near her, his sad eyes looking up at her every so often. Her hand would slip off the book to idly scratch behind his ears. She bore the look of domestic bliss, something Alfie never had the pleasure to indulge in.

            Her hazel eyes looked up over the blue covered book when she noticed his presence in the doorway. "Everything going okay in London?"

            Alfie had nearly forgotten about the phone call he just had with Ollie. "Eh? Oh, yeah, yeah, nothing's wrong."

            Cyril lifted himself up and padded over to his master. The dog was enjoying the cottage and especially the beach. It was probably the longest period of time Alfie had been consistently peaceful. There were a few possible remedies. The ocean, the quiet, being out of the bakery, and Louise.

            "See? What did I tell you? Everything would be perfectly fine. You're allowed to take a break every so often." Louise straightened up and marked her page before setting the book down.

            "Well, when you're right, you're right." He heavily sat down on one of the nearby couches. He stroked Cyril's ears when the bullmastiff leaned against his legs.

            She gasped in feigned shock, pressing a hand to her heart. "My Alfie is admitting he was wrong about something? Call the Daily Mail!"

            He chuckled and shook his head. "One man can't be right 'bout everything, now can he?"

            "My mother used to say there was only one thing keeping men from sending the world straight into chaos." She gave him a sly look and sat on her heels.

            "Oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What would that be?"

            "A patient woman."

            He rubbed a hand over his chin and shrugged. "You think? I dunno."

            Louise rolled her eyes because she knew he was just trying to pull her leg. She stood and flipped her hair. "Well if you don't know then you won't ever know." She replied and went to pass by him.

            "C'mere you." Alfie grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap making her giggle softly. He set his hands firmly on her hips as he held her gaze. "Me mum, yeah, she would grab me by the ear." He playfully tweaked Louise's earlobe. "After I'd gotten in trouble with coppers. Then she'd say I weren't ever gonna find a respectable woman. Always asked me what I wanted." He stuck his tongue in his cheek.

            "What did you want?" Louise wondered. She slipped her hands under his shirt to rest on his shoulders, smoothing her thumb over the knots in his muscles.

            He groaned in appreciation and closed his eyes for a moment. "To be fucking honest, I didn't know. All I knew was what I knew, yeah? Knew that people looked down on me. Just a petty criminal, a poor Jew, all rough 'round the edges. Was nothing but a little pest. But what if I could show 'em? Show London that I were a force to be reckoned with?" His blue eyes opened again and he stared at the ceiling. "Make 'em think twice 'bout what they said." His voice faded into something grim. His jaw tensed and he let out a sigh.