134- Do you want to discuss if aliens are real over drinks with me?
ANDREW
I finish vacuuming the living room and set the machine aside with a satisfying thump. Done. The house is now, officially, spotless. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with, but after dinner I did the dishes, and then noticed the benches could use a wipe, which led to mopping the kitchen floor, which somehow turned into a full blown deep clean of the entire house. Classic. The kind of overkill that only happens when I’m alone for too long and trying not to think too hard. It’s probably too late to be vacuuming, but with Rowan away for work again, I’m not exactly keeping anyone up. The silence feels heavier than usual. I sigh, letting the noise echo back at me. Okay, so maybe I miss her. A lot. I’m used to her being away by now. Rowan’s job isn’t something you can take your spouse along for. It’s the kind of work where having me nearby would be unsafe for me and distracting for her, two things she absolutely cannot afford. I get it. I do. That doesn’t mean it’s always easy. I send her a text. My fifth today, not that I’m counting.
Andy- I’ve decided it’s time to deep clean the house. Time to fight those dust bunnies!
She’ll read it when she can. We have an agreement, we both send updates about our day when we can, even if the other doesn’t answer right away. It helps. Makes it feel like we’re still connected, even when we’re not in the same time zone, let alone the same plane of existence. Not that I’m ever particularly busy. I don’t exactly have a job. I mean, my wife is basically a professional killer, though not in a horrifying, movie villain sort of way. She’s more like a supernatural enforcer. Think elite paranormal cop with assassin perks. She’s also more than a little paranoid when it comes to my safety. Which, again, I get. I’d like to say it’s overkill, but I’ve had six different people, relatives or lovers of her targets, track me down to yell at me or try to punch me in the face. So yeah, her concern is... Unfortunately justified. As a compromise, when she’s away, I mostly stay home. It’s not a rule. Just... Something I do because it helps her worry a little less. Our house is ridiculously well warded, basically a magical panic room with windows. She’s layered protections over protections, and there are literal escape vehicles parked on all four sides of the house. I have a personal ward token in my pocket at all times. If something ever goes wrong, I know exactly where to go. Plan A: Get to Rowan. Plan B: If Rowan is unreachable, head to that demon bar. I know, it sounds sketchy. But APPARENTLY, it’s the closest thing we’ve got to neutral ground in the city. It’s closed during the day, heavily warded, and I’ve got a token that’s supposed to get me in, even if it looks like an old poker chip with weird runes. I’ve never tested it. Honestly, I hope I never have to. Rowan only recently added that place to the emergency list. She used to keep a wary eye on the owner, Torin, his family has a not great reputation. But she’s come around. I think it’s because of his girlfriend, Rina. She’s human. Like me. And I think that matters to Rowan. She trusts people who protect humans, especially when they don’t have to. She probably sees something in Torin, a kind of solidarity, maybe. Or at least a shared responsibility. Whatever the reason, she trusts him with my life, although I seriously doubt she’s made him aware of that. And weirdly enough... So do I.
It gets kind of lonely when it’s just me here. I guess you could say I’m basically a house husband. Rowan and I have talked about having kids someday. She’s hesitant, and I get that. She already worries herself sick about me every time she has to leave. Throw a baby into the mix? Her anxiety would go through the roof. Still, I think things are shifting. She’s starting to make some friends in the city, people she actually trusts. That has to be a good sign, right? Maybe if she feels like we’re not alone here, she’ll be able to loosen that iron grip she has on everything. She carries so much weight on her shoulders, even if she doesn’t let it show. To the outside world, Rowan’s all steel and competence. The confident supernatural enforcer who doesn’t flinch at monsters, murderers, or magical threats. But I know better. I know how much she worries, how hard she tries to stay one step ahead of every threat. People think she’s fearless because she’s powerful. But that’s exactly why she’s afraid. She knows what’s out there. She’s made enemies, real ones, by refusing to back down from what’s right. And those enemies don’t just disappear. It took me so long to get her to trust me. Even longer to get her to fall in love with me. Back before all this, before magic and monsters and falling in love with a woman who could kill a vampire with a butterknife, I was a secretary. I worked for a PR executive who was, for lack of a better word, a complete asshole. Turns out he was also not exactly human. And very involved in the kind of trafficking that makes your skin crawl. Supernatural, shadowy, and completely horrific. Rowan showed up investigating him. She tried to flirt with me to get information. It was... Painful. Adorably painful. She’s many things, clever, strategic, terrifying when she wants to be, but a smooth flirt? Not even close. Long story short, I accidentally found some files I wasn’t supposed to. Started piecing things together. That’s when I went to Rowan. I didn’t even realise I was helping her nail the guy. I just didn’t know who else to go to. She used what I gave her, got him taken down, and that was that. I should probably feel bad about helping get someone killed, but... After what I saw? What he did to those people? I really, truly don’t. Rowan felt guilty for dragging me into it. Said I wouldn’t have gone digging if she hadn’t sparked my curiosity. So she started checking in on me. Little things at first. Making sure I was adjusting. Then it became a habit. A visit here. A text there. Then it was daily check ins. Then dinner. Then dating. Now… Here we are. Married. And I’ve never been happier. Still… Sometimes I miss working. Or rather, I miss doing something that feels important. Rowan earns all the money. I handle the house stuff. Pay the bills. Keep things running. But with her gone half the time, it’s really just me and the occasional spider I pretend not to be afraid of. I want to do something nice for her. Something that isn’t just about me wanting time with her. I could buy her a gift, but it’s her money, so that feels kind of like just moving her own cash around. I could plan a date, but again, that feels like something I want for me. I sigh and head to the hall closet to put the vacuum away, and that’s when it hits me. Inspiration, in the form of chaos. The garage. Row calls it her workshop. It’s where she stores all her weapons, magical and mundane, as well as all the odd things she picks up during her missions. But mostly? It’s a graveyard of paperwork. Stacks and stacks of reports, maps, files, artifacts in need of cataloguing... You name it, it’s in there. Somewhere. The last time she needed something, it took her over three hours to find it. She came out looking like she’d fought a dragon in there. She hates organising things like that. She’ll never do it. But I could. It wouldn’t be a flashy gesture, but it would be meaningful. Practical. Helpful. A way of easing the load she carries without her even needing to ask. That’s love, right? Doing the annoying, thankless stuff so the person you love doesn’t have to. It’s late, sure, but I’m awake, and I’m on a cleaning roll. Might as well lean in. It’ll probably take me a few days. But I have more than enough time.