by K. Street
I’ve started packing up the rest of the condo. Reducing Trevor’s physical existence to a few boxes that sit in the corner of the closet. I haven’t figured out what to do with them yet. I donated his clothes and shoes to a homeless shelter. The wedding photos no longer sit on the bookcase in the living room. I can’t stand to look at them and remember how perfect everything was. Those images are talons ripping through scab-crusted skin, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of them. I’m hopeful the day will come when I can glance at a picture of Trevor and not hate him. I’m not there yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be. Sleeping in our bedroom is more than I can handle, so I spend my nights on the couch where the nightmare first started.
I had lunch with my boss yesterday and officially resigned my position at the Art Institute. I might have loved my job, but we coordinated more than just galas and social occasions. I helped brides create dream weddings. And happily ever after isn’t something I believe in, not anymore.
My life has become a series of bullet points, boxes that need to be checked before I can move on. Dealing with Trevor’s belongings was just the beginning. I went to see my gynecologist and got back on birth control. I also met with my attorney, Davis Marshall, to discuss the trust. He’s an old friend of Trevor’s and Dante’s from college. When I told him the trust was for Trevor’s son, he pulled the lawyer card and advised me I shouldn’t do so without proof of paternity. I showed Davis the DNA results, and to say he was shocked would be an understatement. Kyndal should get the papers regarding the trust any day now. Davis also mentioned that Kyndal might come after Trevor’s estate. I’m prepared to put up one hell of a fight if she does, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I just want to do the right thing and have her out of my life for good.
I’m putting away laundry when I hear my phone ring from the other room. It stops ringing and then starts again. The number looks familiar, but there’s no name, and I decide to answer it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Tessa? It’s Kyndal.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I received the papers regarding the trust, and while I’m very appreciative, I have a bit of a dilemma.”
I clutch the phone in my hand, already not liking where this is going. “How so?”
“Trevor and I didn’t have an official agreement, but he paid child support.”
“Is that why you’re calling me? You want money?” This bitch has nerve. “How much was he sending you?”
“Trevor was quite generous.”
“How much, Kyndal?” There’s a bite to my tone, and I’m running out of patience.
“Twenty.”
“Twenty?” I nearly choke. “As in twenty thousand a month?”
“Yes. If that’s a problem for you, I’m happy to discuss it.”
“You’re happy to discuss it? There’s nothing to discuss because no way in hell am I sending you that kind of money.”
“Tessa…I’m sure we can come to an agreement between us. I really would hate to get my lawyer involved.”
“Do not threaten me.” Awareness hits me like a lightning bolt. I think I just figured out where all the money Trevor stole from S&S went.
If the arrangement was unofficial, why the hell was he paying her so much? It seems more than extreme for one child.
“Take it for what it’s worth, but I’m not sure you know who you’re dealing with.” Her tone is menacing.
I’m done with this conversation.
I hang up the phone.
Kyndal Montgomery has balls, I’ll give her that, but mine are bigger, and she doesn’t want to fuck with me.
thirty-six
Tessa
I scan the clothes hanging in my closet and pick out a sleeveless white A-line dress to wear to lunch with Dante later today. I haven’t said anything to him about the phone call from Kyndal yesterday, but I plan to tell him today at lunch. After I lay the dress flat on the bed, I glance at the clock and realize there’s time to kill before I need to get ready. There are a few things of Trevor’s I still need to go through. The nightstand catches my eye, so I decide to start there.
When I pull the drawer open, my eyes land on his cell phone. I forgot it was there. I turn it on, and once the home screen loads, I enter the passcode. The first thing I do is scan Trevor’s old text messages, and I’m relieved when there aren’t any from Kyndal. I wonder if Trevor had a burner phone, so he could keep in touch with her, but I dismiss the idea just as quickly. After I go through Trevor’s call log, I listen to his voice mail messages.
“Mr. Salinger, this is Tracy at Westbrook Urology. Dr. Hunt would like you to call the office at your earliest convenience.”
The most recent one confuses the hell out of me, and it’s from the day before Trevor died. I play back the message three times while I search for a pen and paper to jot the number down. When I hang up, I stare at Trevor’s phone, dumbfounded. I don’t understand why he went to a urologist without telling me. We talked about things. At least, I thought we did.
I dial the number and wait for someone to answer.
“Westbrook Urology,” a female voice chirps.
“Hello, I’m Tessa Salinger. My husband, Trevor, was a patient of Dr. Hunt’s. Someone named Tracy called and left a message to call the office.”
“If you’ll hold for just a minute, I’ll see if Tracy is available.”
She places me on hold, and I listen to awful elevator music until she picks up again.
“Mrs. Salinger, if you’ll hold the line, Tracy will be right with you.”
“Thank you.” I chew my fingernail while I wait.
“Hello, Mrs. Salinger. This is Tracy, Dr. Hunt’s nurse. How can I help you?”
“Yes, well…I was wondering if you could tell me why Trevor was seeing Dr. Hunt.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss a patient’s medical information.”
“I understand, but Trevor was killed a little over four months ago, and I just discovered your message today. You can’t just tell me what he was being seen for?”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Let me see if you’re on his release form, okay? Can you hold for me?”
“Of course. Thank you so much.”
A few minutes later, Tracy comes back on the line. “Mrs. Salinger, I’m not sure how to say this, but you’re not listed as someone we can share Trevor’s medical information with.”
“There must be some mistake.” How am I not listed? “I’m his wife.”
“I really am sorry. You could speak with an attorney, but my hands are tied. Even if you were on the list, you’d need to come in person and show a form of identification.”
“Thank you. I’ll be in touch,” I say and hang up the phone.
This doesn’t make any sense. Not only can I not figure out why he was seeing a urologist, but I also don’t understand why he didn’t want me to know.
Maybe Dante knows something. Instead of meeting him at the deli down from S&S, I decide to leave early and meet him at the office. I throw on the dress I discarded on the bed earlier and run a brush through my hair. After I dab on enough makeup to be presentable, I grab the rest of my stuff and head out the door to drive to Dante’s office.
Katie is on the phone when I walk in. I wave as I walk past her, on my way to Dante’s office.
I knock lightly on his office door. “Dante?”
“Come in.”
“Hey, do you have a minute?”
Dante looks up from his computer, and a grin spreads over his face. “I have as much time as you need.”
He stands and walks toward me. When he’s within arm’s reach, he tugs me into an embrace. We stand there, holding each other for several minutes.
“I’ve missed you, Tessa.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
He puts an inch or two between us and tilts my face to look at him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” The magnetic pull of his lips is hard to deny, so I lean in
and kiss him. When he tries to take the kiss deeper, I step back. “We need to talk.” I settle into the chair in front of his desk.
Worry lines etch his forehead. “What’s going on?”
I wait for Dante to sit before filling him in on everything— the trust, Kyndal’s phone call, and the message from the urologist.
Dante quizzically looks at me. “You don’t know why he was seeing a urologist?”
“No. When I talked to my gynecologist, he said it was normal for healthy couples to take up to a year to get pregnant. We had no reason for concern, so it didn’t make sense to run any tests. I don’t even know if that’s why he was going.”
“Tessa…I’m not convinced the kid belongs to Trevor. I didn’t tell you because you’d have jumped to the conclusion that I was somehow defending what he did.”
“You should’ve said something.”
“I wish you’d talked to me first before you set up the trust,” he tells me.
I immediately feel the need to defend my decision. “First, it’s the right thing to do, and at the time, I had no reason to think Brandon wasn’t his. Second, I’m not sure why I would’ve talked to you because it isn’t any of your business.” There’s an edge to my tone, but Dante is crossing a line.
Dante leans forward, his elbows on the desk and his jaw set hard, but he doesn’t say anything.
I soften my tone. “If you’d shared your doubts a few days ago, I’d have thought you were crazy. I found pictures of Brandon in Trevor’s office, and they favor each other.” I look to the ceiling and let out a sigh. “I’ll admit, now, I’m suspicious, especially after finding out Trevor was sending her twenty grand a month for child support. I don’t know much about that sort of thing, but it seems ludicrous. It’s pretty difficult to fake a paternity test though, Dante.”
“What’s the name of the urologist’s office?”
“Westbrook Urology.”
“Hang on. I have an idea.” He pulls out his cell, dials a number, and then sits back in his chair. “Hi, Madison. It’s Dante Salinger.” His voice is smooth and deep. “I need a favor.”
He listens to her response, and whatever she says must be funny because he laughs. Dante explains that he needs her to look into Trevor’s medical records.
I listen intently to their conversation. Dante doesn’t flirt with her in the least; he’s friendly though.
When Dante gets off the phone, his eyes meet mine. “Madison Parker is an old friend, and she’s also a partner at Westbrook,” he offers in explanation.
From the inflection of his tone, I realize the type of friend she was.
“Ah, I see.”
“She was a medical resident and too busy for a relationship.”
“Dante, there’s no need to explain yourself.” I’m not upset. I have no right to be. At the time, I was married to Trevor, and I’m aware of Dante’s man-whore status. “Can Madison help us?”
“She agreed to look at his records and get back to me.”
“I don’t understand why Trevor kept something like this from me. Every time I think there can’t possibly be any more secrets, I stumble across something else.”
“We’ll sort it out. Madison said she’d call me in a day or two.” Dante gets up and comes around the desk. He stands in front of me and leans against the dark wood.
“Dante, why do you think the baby isn’t Trevor’s?” I realize he never told me.
“I’m hungry. How about we go to lunch, and I’ll fill you in?”
“Okay, sure.”
“Great. Let me finish up here, and then we’ll go,” he says, standing.
“I’m going to go catch up with Katie. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Dante reaches for my hand and pulls me to my feet. “I won’t be long.” He drops a chaste kiss to my lips.
“No rush.” I let go of his hand and leave to see Katie.
Surprisingly, there isn’t a crowd at the deli when we arrive. After we place our order, we find a quiet table in the corner near one of the large windows. I pick at my salad and wait for Dante to tell me why he has doubts, but he’s preoccupied with his roast beef sandwich.
When he notices I’ve barely touched my food, he points to my plate and says, “Eat.”
I take a few bites to appease him. “There. Now, tell me what you think is going on.”
Dante spends the next several minutes telling me about Mabel and their conversation. “What if Trevor had doubts about the validity of the paternity test?”
Skeptically, I raise an eyebrow, but he doesn’t give me a chance to interject.
“I’m not sure how old the kid is, but what if she was sleeping with Winston Scott around the same time she slept with Trevor?”
“That’s quite a theory.”
But, somewhere in the back of my head, I wonder if he’s right. And, if he is, how the hell can we prove it?
thirty-seven
Dante
I glance at Tessa from across the table and almost see the wheels spinning in her head. “Give Madison time to get back to us, and then we’ll go from there.”
The twenty grand raises a few red flags. It’s likely that Kyndal was blackmailing Trevor, and if he didn’t want Tessa to learn of their affair, then he had no option but to pay it. I keep the thought to myself for now, but I plan to see if there’s a connection between Kyndal and the testing facility. I haven’t found anything yet, but maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place.
“I don’t think I have any other choice.” Tessa takes a bite of food.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it.” I wipe my hands on a napkin, drop it on the table, and cross my arms over my chest, fixing my eyes on Tessa.
“What?” Tessa asks, looking up from her plate.
“You’ve been a little distant.”
She swallows hard and lifts her water to her mouth. Plump pink lips press on the rim of the glass, marking the surface with gloss. What I wouldn’t give to have them wrapped around my cock instead.
It’s been a few nights since I’ve been inside her, but it’s all I think about. I’ve never had an addictive personality, but I find myself hooked on Tessa. I love her smart mouth and her perfect fucking body, and that pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. My cock stiffens in my pants.
“I know. I’ve been trying to take care of some stuff I’ve been putting off.”
“Fair enough. Come home with me tonight. I can distract you.” I wink at her.
“Dante…” She’s conflicted. It shows in her expression, but I wait for her to continue. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Everything right now is so complicated.” She looks down at the table before meeting my eyes, but she doesn’t add anything.
“We’ve been doing complicated for a while now. Come over. We’ll watch a movie, and I’ll make you dinner.”
“You’re going to cook for me? No takeout or pizza?”
“One of these days, your sassy comments will get you in trouble.” I smirk.
“All right. I’ll meet you at your place around eight. Does that work?”
“Perfect.” I look at my watch and notice it’s later than I thought. “I need to get back to the office. I’ve got a few interviews to fill Trevor’s position lined up this afternoon.”
“I’ll walk back with you. Do you need me to pick up anything from the store, or do you have everything you need for dinner?”
“You just show up, and I’ll handle everything.”
We walk back to my office, and I kiss her good-bye at the ground level, so she can get her car from the parking garage.
I’m in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner, when there’s a knock on the door. I wash my hands and then open the door to find Tessa standing on the other side. She’s dressed in a blue shirt and a pair of black jeans that perfectly hug her curves. Her honey-blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, and I reach out to tuck a strand behind her ear. Th
en, I lean in and tease her with a kiss.
“Come in. I hope you’re hungry.” I step to the side, so she can enter.
“I’m starving.”
We walk into the kitchen where I pour Tessa a glass of wine and top mine off. She sits at the table, and I make her a plate, setting it in front of her before making my own.
I sit down at the table and raise my glass. “Here’s to an uncomplicated evening.”
Tessa clinks her glass against mine. “Cheers.” She takes a sip of wine. “Did you hire anyone today?”
“No, but there are a few more interviews planned for tomorrow.” I swallow and set my fork down.
“That’s good.”
“Ever play Twenty Questions?” I ask her out of the blue.
“Sure.” Then, she laughs. “I get it; this is your attempt at keeping things simple.”
“Something like that.”
Just by watching her over the years, I’ve learned a great deal about Tessa. But I want to know everything.
“All right, I’m game. You go first.”
“How old were you the first time you had sex?”
She starts choking on her wine. “You’re going for it, huh? Aren’t you supposed to ask me my favorite color or something?”
“No. Besides, it’s blue.”
“Fine. Nineteen. My turn. Same question. How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I thought you’d have been younger.”
“Her name was Serena.”
“I’m impressed you remember.”
“All right, smart-ass, what’s your favorite position?” I love how her face flushes.
“You mean, sexually?”
“Yes.” I stab my fork into the last piece of steak.
“Any position that gets the job done,” she fires back.
Her comment makes my eyes widen.
“Are you finished?” Standing, she holds her plate in one hand and waits for me to answer.
“Yes, but I’ll get it later.”
“You made dinner, so I’ll help with the cleanup.” She picks up the dishes and walks over to the sink, setting them on the counter before she turns the water on.
