Tesseracts Thirteen by Nancy Kilpatrick

Author:Nancy Kilpatrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EDGE Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing
Published: 2012-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Dead to Me

By Kelley Armstrong

I sat on the sofa and watched my dead ex-husband take the last pizza slice from the box. I suppose I should say, “My dead ex-husband’s ghost,” but he didn’t look like a ghost. Or act like one. I’d think he wasn’t dead at all if it wasn’t for the way his head lolled to the side, neck broken.

I suppose, too, that I shouldn’t call him my ex when the divorce hadn’t been finalized. And, no, that impending divorce had nothing to do with his accident. I’d been there, but I hadn’t killed him.

“You know what would go great with this?” he said, lifting the dripping pizza slice. “A cold beer. Any chance, babe?”

“You don’t need a beer. You’re dead.”

He shrugged and leaned back into the couch, feet propped on the coffee table. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Well, you’re dead to me.”

He met my gaze. “Am I?”

I got up and went to bed.

As I tried to sleep, I could hear him downstairs. Not giving me a moment’s rest. Selfish bastard.

My mother had warned me not to marry him. With my mother, though, there were few things in life she hadn’t warned me against, from learning to ride a bike to buying my own business. She had her reasons — I was her only child, and she’d been an invalid since the accident that killed my father, so it was in her best interests to keep me safe and close. Whenever I suggested getting my own place, she’d peer at me over her glasses, cold eyes glittering, and say, “Go on, but remember this: If you walk out that door, you’re dead to me.”

Those were the last words she’d said to me, when I finally did leave to get married. Six months later, she was dead, and the house was mine. I’d rented it out until, sadly, her predictions on my marriage proved all too accurate.

Despite her dire prophesies, it hadn’t ended badly. We separated by mutual agreement. I returned to my mother’s house. He kept the condo, which he’d had before we married. As a lawyer, he made more money, but I pulled in enough not to bother with alimony. No kids, no pets, no fuss, no muss. He’d even given me a convertible as a parting gift … and to make sure my bedroom door stayed open.

I walked into the bathroom the next morning and found him in the shower. I tried to pass by, but he threw open the door and leaned out.

“Wanna join me?” he asked, waggling his brows.

“No, thanks.”

He only grinned. “Then I guess I’ll have to take care of it myself.”

He wrapped his fingers around his cock and met my gaze, his grin inviting me to watch. There’d been a time when I would have — a lot of times when I had. But there was nothing sexy about a dead guy whacking off in my shower.

I turned away and started brushing my teeth. A couple of minutes later, the door squeaked open again.

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