Buying Flowers for My Ghost

Summary

Eight months into my pregnancy, the disembodied voice I thought I’d escaped forever flickered back to life inside my head.

[We’re sorry, Host. Your ninety-ninth attempt to reform the villain has failed. System-wide termination is imminent.]

I froze.

The defense I was about to mount died on my lips as the door opened, revealing my boyfriend. Drew was no longer wearing the faded, six-dollar thrift-store tees he usually lived in. He stood in the doorway draped in bespoke cashmere, looking impossibly wealthy, impossibly cold.