by Gina LaManna
“It’s Alessandra,” she said. “I thought you knew that.”
I blinked. “That’s actually her real name? Did you find anything else?”
Meg shrugged. “Not really.”
I frowned, a sense of disappointment creeping over my shoulders. “That’s a huge bummer. I really thought she was hiding something.”
“We did find out where she’ll be tomorrow night though,” Meg said. “She has an invitation to Lizabeth’s fashion show and afterparty. That’s interesting, right?”
“Yes, of course that’s interesting!” I set my glass down, wishing she’d told me that first. “What name is her reservation under?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Meg rolled her eyes. “Alessandra!”
I practiced my best form of patience. “Any idea of her last name?”
“We don’t know yet,” Meg said. “The lists are pretty private. You’d think Lizabeth would have an invite list, but it’s being run by a third party, and they’re close-lipped about everything. Clay could only find this girl’s first name so far, and her occupation. By the way, her occupation just says Assistant.”
“Assistant to who, or what?”
“I don’t know—that’s the weird part. Maybe she just assists whoever she can find. You know, like Mother Theresa.”
“Not if she’s stealing things,” I said. “That’s not very helpful.”
“There’s something weird going on with her, that’s for sure. Luckily, Clay promised to find her last name by morning. As we speak, he’s got his computer running some programs to crack the invite list. We’ll find out where she’s staying, her last name, and any special instructions by breakfast.”
I took another sip of wine. “That would be really helpful,” I said. “Is Clay sure about this?”
Meg nodded. “Although I suppose the information could be fake.”
I set the wine glass down, biting my cheek, trying to keep my voice even. “Now, just to be clear, fake information wouldn’t be very helpful.”
“I see your point,” Meg said. “I’ll tell Clay not to use fake information.”
“Thanks for your attention to detail,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Anytime. Say, how’s your little stinker?”
“Um…what?” My mind blanked. “Anthony?”
Meg gawked at me, her mouth wide open. “No, Arnold!”
“Oh, he’s…” I wracked my brain. “He’s having a spa day with Nora.”
“You forgot about your baby.”
“He’s plastic!”
“What if he was the real thing?”
“He’s not! He’s a robot. He’s not real…” I paused, then I collapsed. I folded my arms on the bar and let my head fall onto them. “What if I forget about my kids, Meg? What if I’m a terrible mom? Maybe I shouldn’t have kids. I probably shouldn’t get married. What would Anthony think if I forgot our kids somewhere?”
“Knowing Anthony, he’d just find them, all scary and silent-like, somewhere. It’s really no big deal.”
“It is a huge deal!” I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling the locks tight against my scalp. “Meg! What am I doing with my life?”
“Is this a trick question?” Meg raised an eyebrow. “Because it looks like you’re pulling your hair out. Or you’re giving yourself a scalp massage.”
“No!”
“Well, then keep going, I love me some charades. I need a new clue, though.”
“Hi girls,” Nora said, surprising us both as she flounced across the room and waved to the bartender for a glass of wine. “How’s it going, ladies?”
“We’re playing charades,” Meg said, her gaze focused on me. “Shh. It’s Lacey’s turn.”
Nora clapped her hands. “Oh, I love this game. I know, I know! Lacey looks drunk. Is that the right answer? Am I right? Lacey, your head is on the bar. Are you ignoring me?” My grandmother tapped my shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
I closed my eyes. “None of the above. It’s not a game, and I’m not drunk. I’ve had a sip and a half of wine.”
“She’s fuzzy,” Meg said. “That’s the step before drunk, and I think it’s classier. I’m getting a little fuzzy myself.”
“I want to be fuzzy,” Nora said. “I love being fuzzy. Here, Lacey, take your baby so I can get fuzzy too.”
Next thing I knew, Nora smacked Arnold down on the countertop. She’d looked the part of loving grandmother walking into the bar, but at the first sight of wine, she gave it all up.
“No bebe in ze bar,” the barista said in choppy English. “Iz no place for bebe.”
“It’s not a baby!” I turned Arnold around so the doll faced the bartender. “He’s plastic.”
The bartender looked at the three of us like we were from Mars. He wasn’t too far off because Arnold wasn’t human, and I wasn’t too sure about Meg, either.
“I fed him twice while you were away,” Nora explained. “I wiped a lot of blue gel off his butt. You also might want to take him to the doctor because his spit-up was the color of skittles.”
“He. Is. Not. Real.” I picked Arnold up anyway and cradled him. “It’s a school project for the girls. I am going to kill Marissa and Clarissa when I get back.”
“Please don’t do that,” Nora said. “They’re the only grandkids I have to spoil right now.”
“Hello.” I waved a hand. “I’m also your grandchild. Please feel free to spoil me anytime.”
“Speaking of spoiling, I’ve been looking at these.” Nora disappeared outside of the bar for a moment. When she returned two minutes later, she was lugging a suitcase the size of a table. “I clipped a few things out of the magazines I found in the apartment.”
I eyed the suitcase. Part of me wanted to help as Nora grunted her way across the bar, but I couldn’t make myself move. She couldn’t be carrying anything good in there. Thankfully, Meg helped, lifting the suitcase with one hand and plopping it on the counter.
The bartender frowned. Then he glanced around, saw nobody else in the bar, and sighed.
“Look at all of these,” Nora said, a gleam in her eye. “I cut them out while Arnold napped. He really is a sweet baby. He didn’t cry once, but maybe I tuckered him out with spa day. Look! I painted his toenails lilac.”
I looked first at Arnold’s toenails. I’m sad to say they were nicer than my own. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a pedi. Then, I peered over my grandmother’s shoulder, catching a glimpse of oodles and oodles of glitter and fluff and white accessories. Pages of tulle and veils and tiaras fluttered every which way as my grandmother laid stacks of wedding dress photos on the counter.
“So, what are you thinking in terms of dress?” Nora tsked, her voice turning business-like as she flipped through spread after spread in the magazines. “You’re lucky, dear, you can wear pretty much anything with your skinny buns. I was initially thinking the mermaid-style dress might be glamorous, but then…” she hesitated and sighed, her lips forming a deep frown as she sized me up. “No offense, dear, but I feel like you might tip over trying to walk around in one of them. Then, I thought you might like those huge, Cinderella type dresses. It would make you look like a princess.”
Meg shook her head. “Nope, that’s a bad idea, too. Lacey knocks over plenty of things without wearing an extra three feet of fluff.”
“My thinking exactly!” Nora nodded approvingly at Meg. “So then, I figured you might need a simpler style. Maybe something like this?”
All of Nora’s “thinking” had my own brain spinning in circles. I was mostly familiar with two categories of clothes: jeans and everything else. I knew I hated jeans, and everything else was up for debate.
“Just put me in whatever you think would be best,” I said, waving a hand. “Isn’t that what the designers are for? Aren’t they supposed to know what looks best on me?”
“Don’t you have an opinion?” Nora’s brows furrowed together. “It’s your wedding, after all, and you’re going to
be the one wearing the dress.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t care. I just want someone to make all the decisions for me.” I ran a finger around the rim of my wine glass. “I mean, it’d be great if I looked nice, but I don’t need to spend a zillion dollars on it. Also, I’d like to be able to walk in the thing. That’s about it for my criteria.”
“You’re easy,” Meg said. “Not me. I’m not even engaged, and I know exactly what I want on my dress down to the last pocket.”
“You’re going to have pockets in your wedding dress?” I asked.
“Of course I am! Where else would I stash my gun?”
I made a mental note to introduce Meg to the wonderful world of purses. Then, I realized that I should probably be more worried about the gun.
Nora wasn’t bothered by either. She continued thumbing through the photos. “What about—”
“I don’t want to look, Auntie Nora. I don’t want to deal with wedding things.” I reached over and closed the book for her. “I’m really busy with work right now, and that needs my full attention.”
“I heard you talking to Lizabeth before Nora got here,” Meg said. “You guys agreed everything’s set up already.”
“That was a private conversation,” I said. “I went outside so you wouldn’t hear.”
“I’m Meg. I eavesdrop on things.” She grinned at Nora. “We’re good to go. We’ve got the guest list, we taught a supermodel self-defense…we’re just waiting for Clay to find us the right name, and we’ll be good to go.”
“Well then, you’re all set,” Nora said. “And your brain is free to think about dresses.”
“My brain doesn’t work like that,” I said.
Nora pouted. “Can’t you make it work like that?”
I shook my head, and refilled my glass of wine from the carafe. I was starting to sweat despite the cool night and the breezy sundress. “Can we not talk about this? You’re giving me nightmares.”
“What are you so worried about?” Nora asked. “You love Anthony; we can all see it.”
“I love him, but that’s not the question,” I said. “It’s everything else. The planning, the ceremony, the…never mind. I’m just being a big baby.”
“It’s normal to have some pre-wedding jitters,” Nora said. “As long as it’s about the wedding, and not the man you’re going to marry.”
“I’ve never doubted Anthony.” I picked up Arnold, held him to my chest, and patted him on the back as he spit up some blue liquid onto my shawl. “I’m just going to head to bed,” I said, standing up and pushing my wine glass over to Nora. “Thanks for everything. I’m sorry that I’m not…” I shrugged, and turned away from the bar.
Nora took a few steps after me. She pulled me into a hug, the faint scent of wine and pasta drifting over us, familiar and pleasant. I wanted to stay in her arms forever. “Just remember that as long as you and Anthony love each other, everything else will work out in the end.”
I nodded. Tossing some sparkly money onto the bar, I dragged myself outside. Arnold was still spitting up somehow. His endurance was impressive. By the time I stumbled into my shower, both Arnold and I were covered with so much blue junk that I took him right in with me.
As I washed his hair, I sort of prayed that his batteries would short out from the water. Unfortunately, he held up just fine. Seemed like my luck had run out for the day.
I climbed into bed and snuggled under the covers. It stilled smelled like Anthony, which sent a pang of loneliness through my stomach. I picked up my phone, sending him a message that I was going to sleep.
He hadn’t texted me since we’d talked earlier, and I wondered what he was doing. If he was thinking about me. If he had doubts about marriage, or if that part was just me.
I clutched Baby Arnold close to my chest, hugged him like a life jacket in a stormy sea, and drifted to sleep.
Chapter 18
Something woke me in the middle of the night. A sound, a breath, a footstep—I couldn’t say what exactly pulled me from my sleep, but when my eyes shot open, I knew instantly it wasn’t a coincidence.
The clock blinked three in the morning.
My pulse raced.
I wasn’t alone.
“Good evening, Lacey,” a dark figure spoke from the shadows. “Rather, good morning.”
I shot up in bed, grateful that I had on the most unflattering pajamas in the world. No kidnapper would want to steal me, not while I was wearing a huge teal shirt that swallowed my body whole and had the logo of an auto parts store on the front. I don’t know where it came from, but it was soft and cuddly, so when it landed in my closet, I didn’t ask questions.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as my eyes adjusted, the dark figure emerging into a more familiar one. I telegraphed my most furious glare at Beckett, also known as Mr. Magic. “Get out of my apartment! Just because you know a few magic tricks doesn’t mean you can waltz in wherever you want.”
“That’s exactly what it means.” Beckett took a step into my room, his eyes sparkling as the moonlight hit his face, giving him an ethereal, almost superhuman glow. He flashed his most dazzling smile. “It doesn’t mean I should waltz wherever I want, of course, but it wasn’t exactly difficult to get into your apartment.”
“Well good! Then you should be able to march yourself right back out extra easily.”
He laughed. “I would, but I’m having too much fun. Tell me though, why do you sleep with that thing?”
“Because it’s soft.” I looked down, thinking he meant my ugly shirt. Then I realized that I was still clutching Baby Arnold to my chest. “Oh, you mean him?”
“It’s a him?”
“Yes,” I said defensively. “And his name’s Arnold. Look at this—you scared him so badly he squirted me.” I gestured to the blue gel all down my most favorite nightshirt. “I’ll tell you what—I won’t even send you the dry cleaning bill if you leave me alone.”
“He’s precious,” Beckett said, a smooth slant to his voice. “Really adorable child. Congratulations.”
I set Arnold down on the bed. “Get out, please. I’ve been asking nicely, and if you don’t listen, I’m going to have to do something drastic.”
“Drastic?”
His curious tone got on my nerves. “Yes, drastic.”
“Do tell.”
I fell silent, trying to come up with a drastic measure, but I kept drawing a blank. I could try to escort him out, but he was big and strong and that was probably not going to happen. I had an extra pepper spray in my purse. That wouldn’t help because my purse sat right where I’d left it—on the dining room table.
Maybe I could call Anthony, but he was miles away. I really wished I had Meg’s pockets at the moment. Maybe I’d have some pepper spray at my fingertips if I’d just succumbed to wearing a camo vest. Finally, I looked down at the doll, realizing he might be my only weapon.
“Leave Arnold alone,” Beckett said, following my gaze. “Give me two minutes of your time, and I promise I’ll leave on my own accord.”
“I don’t owe you two minutes, you know,” I said. “I might not be a citizen here, but I’m pretty sure breaking and entering is still illegal.”
“You’re funny, Lacey,” he said with a wink. “I see why Anthony likes you.”
I shifted uncomfortably on the bed, pulling my blanket up to my chin. “How do you know so much about me?”
“Since you’re only giving me two minutes, I don’t have time to get into all of the details, so I’m going to get straight down to business. Lacey—”
“Why am I not scared of you?” I blurted. “You’re creepy and rude and everything else, but I’m not afraid. Frankly, it feels weird. I wish I was more scared of you, but my nerves aren’t cooperating.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Because I’m not going to hurt you in any way. Ever. Under any circumstances. In fact, I’m here to help.”
“Help with what?”
“We’re working on so
mething together, even though you don’t know it yet.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Then how about you tell me?”
“I wish I could.” He gave me a rueful expression. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. All I can say is that I’m here to help, and you can thank me later.”
I tapped a finger against my tooth, trying not to overload on sarcasm. “You know, Beckett, I’ve had people break into my home before. It’s not that this situation is entirely unusual for me. But I can say that nobody has ever asked me to thank them before. This is a new one.”
“You should really not allow so many people to break into your apartment.”
“Yeah, it’s a work in progress.”
Another laugh from Beckett. He shook his head, glancing down at an expensive-looking watch. “Next time we meet, remember this night.”
“How can I forget?” I asked dryly. “It’s not every night someone sneaks into my apartment while I’m sleeping.”
He grinned. “Watch out, I almost feel special.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He stood up, giving me a look that was almost playful. “Well, that concludes my two minutes. I should be going.”
“Hold on a second!” I popped out of bed, the huge shirt falling to my knees. “You broke in here to tell me you’re going to help me, and now you’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I shook my head, more confused than ever. “Couldn’t you have texted me? I also have an email address. You could also reach me by knocking on the door. These are all things that normal human beings do, in case you are interested.”
“I’m not interested in normal.”
I scowled at him. “So you didn’t need anything from me tonight? You just stopped by to say hello?”
He winced. “That’s not entirely true.”
I looked him over carefully, just in case he’d stolen my ring again or kidnapped Arnold. Then I realized if he wanted to kidnap Arnold, he could be my guest. I might even pay him to take the baby.
“I didn’t steal anything,” he said, watching me take stock of my bedroom. “And no, I don’t want that alien baby. I just needed an alibi.” He shrugged, as if this were a normal reason to visit someone in the middle of the night. “I’d appreciate it if you could note the time at this very second. For the record, I entered your apartment at 3:06 a.m., and now it’s 3:18.”
