It was when she did cute shit like look out windows and exclaim Oh Xander! That he recalled why it was he able to tolerate her for so long. He enjoyed espies into peoples souls; glimpses of light in their heart, flashes of it, the way particles in space become ionized for one, split second when they enter a black hole, and illuminate the darkness for just one, fleeting instant.
But, instead of admitting that, stubborn man he was, he crossed his arms underneath his chest, pressed his lips together and watched her when she knew not he was. She was genuine. She was a good choice for the unfortunate task he had to hurdle in order to secure his inheritance from the mysterious death of his firm, yet gentle father. And it dawned on him then, his mouth agape, that holy fuck... what if his dad knew that Honey was the only fine selection of the wilting crop, and had somehow predicted his sons actions to lead to this? Oh no. He didn't like that. He didn't like it at all.
"Yep. Lovely all right. Lovely as my spicy slice of blonde salami."
And so began his reign to convince himself it was his decision and that she belonged to him anyway. Wasn't it true? She was here. She wasn't in Boston. "So did you officially break up with your boyfriend back home, or do I have to make a few phone calls to make sure he never talks to you again?"