Danger is such a subjective thing. I mean, being locked in a motel room with a dark and mysterious guy is not usually something I worry about. Nor do heated looks usually throw me into a panic. I am calm. I am rational. I’m damn classy. I’m also about to wet my pants, but we’ll just offer that as further proof that I am, indeed, human.

I opened my mouth to speak, though I had no idea what I was going to say. Maybe magical words of reconcilement would bounce out all kinds of sprightly and joyful and put things aright. Maybe not. Probably not. Aw, who was I kidding?

He cut me off before I could say anything. “No.” he snarled, sharp and biting. And crisp too, like a winter’s day when no amount of wrap can protect you from the bitter wind. Your skin feels too tight and your blood seems rather to have frozen in place. Little amoebas could be playing ice hockey in there.

I’m rather sure my eyes became massive with that endearing shocked quality that suits me so well. I caught the idea that the words he didn’t speak were far more important than the one he did, especially because I wasn’t quite sure what he was saying no to. There was an ominous undercurrent there… one that I probably couldn’t contend with… didn’t even want to contend with.

He stood and stretched a hand toward me. “Mae,” he began, in a more soothing though somewhat demanding tone… and was promptly cut off when the door exploded and Camry burst into the room. I saw him throw some sort of smoke thingy that I remember Meri’d been raging about last week and he grabbed at my arm. I stood rooted in place. This created an interesting wobbling spring effect.

Should I stay? Should I go? Ugh!! I shrugged him off and did the hand flapping thing that comes unbidden when I’m truly panicked, like I’m trying to fly away. Stupid looking and not very productive, but it is a reflex of sorts and hard to curb. So probably when I looked most like a reject I was also at my most vulnerable and unguarded. Two very good reasons to avoid panic. I calmly removed myself mentally and physically and found myself relocated several blocks away with my feet pounding the pavement.

“Camry, stop!” I called, panting. I bent low to catch my breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The concern in his voice was touching. It also made me nauseous.

I stood up and began jabbing at his collarbone. This happens to be a practice that does a good job of communicating my dissatisfaction with the world at large. It’s an action I engage in often with Camry. “No, I’m not okay! I’m not okay at all! I’m so far from okay that I’m coming out the other side at pleased beyond all reason and that scares me more than consoles so I’m starting to question my sanity.”

He murmured something unintelligible and pulled me into his arms. It was warm and cozy and generally safe and that calmed me a bit. I sighed and went on. “I’m confused and sad and angry and happy, but mostly confused. The main thing is that I’m experiencing emotional duress and you’re setting up to grope me, don’t think I don’t see it coming.”

He grinned slightly. “I’m an opportunist.”

“No, you’re just predictable.” I replied. “Whyever did you rescue me?”

He blinked. “You didn’t want me to?”

“Of course I wanted you to. But I can’t help being mad at you for it, you piddly boy.”

“So you’re angry with me because I did what you wanted? And you’d have been angry if I hadn’t too, right?”

I shrugged. “You’re my husband. Tis the way.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” His grin went up a few watts.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

He nodded. “I know. We need to seriously discuss it. I think you may be right about getting an annulment.”

I stopped, literally, and marveled in the sudden change in Camry’s attitude. Either he was already getting booty from someone else or he had his eye on new prey. Both prospects did little to cheer me. I may not want him as my husband but that doesn’t mean he has to stop cherishing me, does it? I felt like a little kid whose holiday is ruined by loud and generally annoying Uncle Joe who accidentally set fire to the Christmas tree, the schmucky, smelly, bad excuse for an only living relative.

Camry, oblivious to my thoughts and in a good albeit secretive mood grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street in a playful way. He glanced back and for all the world I can’t imagine a happier smile.