“I’ll never be rich, Mikey. I can’t compete with the guy in the flashy red convertible.”
His stomach lurched and he tasted bile.
“Flashy…red…convertible?”
Mikey frowned.
“What are you….”
Realization dawned and he shook his head.
“Are you talking about Mom?”
“She abandoned us, Mikey. Left us for Rich Guy. Why wouldn’t Anjali do the same?”
He closed his eyes.
“She already has a Rich Guy who wants to fuck her. She’s probably with him right now.”
His chest felt tight. A painful ache spread through his body.
“Anjali isn’t Mom. Besides, Mom didn’t leave Dad because of money.”
He jerked toward Mike.
“She didn’t?”
“Mom left Dad because he neglected her.”
Mikey smiled sadly.
“You don’t remember the fights, do you?”
He shook his head.
“Dad was either working or going out with his drinking buddies. And when he was home, he was always drunk and passed out on the couch. He never took her out to dinner or even bought her flowers. She didn’t exist until he wanted—”
He raised his hand. “—I don’t—that’s—ah—got it.”
“So she found someone who treated her like a Lady. Someone who paid attention to her. That he had money was purely coincidence,” Mikey said.
“But why did she leave us?”
“She wanted custody but Dad threatened to drag things out with the divorce. I think she didn’t want to put us through a contentious divorce.”
“Why didn’t she ever come visit us?”
Mikey looked away. He blinked several times and sniffed loudly.
“Remember when Dad died and I had to go through all that junk in his house?”
He nodded.
“When I went through their wedding album, I found a letter from Red Convertible Guy.”
Mikey took a deep breath.
“About a year after she left, there was a tragic car accident,” Mikey said.
“Mom’s…dead?”
He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut.
“Drunk driver,” Mikey croaked. “I didn’t tell you because-”
Mikey took a deep breath.
“-you didn’t seem to care about anything.”
Mikey shook his head.
“You were so angry back then, Tommy. I thought it best not to bring it up. I’m sorry.”
He sagged against the couch. His tender back touched the soft cushion. Pain shot through his body, causing him to bolt upright. He blinked back his tears. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his sorrow. Mikey reached out, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“So tell me about this Rich Guy interested in Anjali.”
He groaned, leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
“I fucked up, Mikey. I was so focused on my business, I neglected her. Ignored her needs. I pushed her right into his arms.”
He leaned back, the pain in his back a welcome distraction from the pain in his chest.
“My business is gone. My woman is gone.”
He closed his eyes.
“What’s the point?”
“Don’t talk like that, Tommy,” Mikey demanded. “That defeatist attitude isn’t going to solve your problems.”
“I don’t know how to fix things between us. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe she decided to have his kid.” He choked on the last word.
“And if she’s pregnant with his child? Would you still want her?”
Without a doubt.
“Yes.”
But she should be carrying my child. Mine, not his.
He sat up and rubbed his jaw.
“How do I convince her to give me another chance?”
He remembered the hurtful things he said and breathing became a challenge as panic set in.
“What if she doesn’t want me?”
The doorbell rang and Mikey left him without an answer.
***
The shocked expression on Mikey’s face made Anjali sob.
“It’s all my fault, Mikey!” she cried.
A fresh batch of tears flowed down her face, blinding her.
“I can’t believe he’s dead!”
“Who’s dead?” Tom asked.
Like a specter, he appeared out of nowhere. A chill ran up her spine. The room spun and she was falling into darkness.
Ammonia.
She jerked her head way from the offensive scent and covered her nose. Her vision was blurry.
“Honey?”
She’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was Tommy.
Her Tommy.
Her pulse raced. Blinking rapidly to clear her eyes, she turned toward his voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, lines of worry marring his handsome face.
“Tommy?” she whispered.
He nodded and she lunged into his arms.
“Am I dreaming?” she muttered into his chest.
“Honey, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed.
She stayed motionless in the cocoon of his arms, afraid to move, afraid he would disappear. His large hand caressed the back of her head, soothing her.
“Honey, why did you think I was dead?” he rasped.
“The news—they said—” Choked with tears, she continued, “—they said a body was found in The Pit. Badly burned. I assumed—”
“They’re mistaken. I’m right here.”
A gentle tug forced her head back. Bandaged fingers caressed her face. She blinked back her tears.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
He kissed each one away, alternating between one cheek and the other.
The ache in her chest intensified.
“Anjali, my sweet Anjali. Don’t cry, my Love.”
“Oh, Tommy—” Her throat constricted and she couldn’t speak.
“I’m a dick for missing your birthday. And I acted like an ass last night—”
“—I should have been more understanding—”
“—I shouldn’t have put my business first.”
“You needed to focus on your business if you were going to make it successful. It’s ironic that you were so dedicated to your business—”
She took a deep breath.
“I can’t imagine my life without you, Anjali.”
He placed a finger over her lips, forcing her to wait so he could continue.
“I wanted to be successful so I could take care of you. Now I realize that money isn’t what you need. Hell, it’s not even what you want. Love is what you want and I’ve got more than enough for you.”
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.
“I love you, Honey.”
Her lips fastened to his, determined to show him she felt the same way.
Chapter Eighteen
A soft knock on the bedroom door woke Tom. Anjali was curled up beside him, sleeping peacefully. A spike of desire rushed through his body. He caressed her cheek, willing his body to calm down.
“Tommy?”
Mikey knocked again.
With a heavy sigh, he slipped out of bed and opened the door.
“A Detective is here to see you,” Mikey said.
“Tommy?”
He whipped around at the panic in her voice. She patted the bed wildly, as if he would magically appear.
“I’m over here, Honey.”
Relief washed over her face.
“I—I thought maybe I dreamed—”
He pulled her into his arms, giving her a reassuring kiss. Her body melded into his and he cursed his damaged body.
“As soon as my body heals,” he whispered in her ear.
The wicked glint in her eye tempted him to send Mikey and the pesky detective away.
Mikey cleared his throat.
>
“I’ll just tell the detective—”
“What detective?” she asked.
“He’s waiting in the living room.”
They followed Mikey into his living room. A tall man with a thin mustache greeted them. His sharp gray suit made him look more like a businessman than a Detective.
“Thomas Keller?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He stuck out his hand.
“I’m Detective James. Homicide.”
“Homicide? Who died?” he asked.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me, Mr. Keller.”
“Tommy, I told you the news said they’d found a body in The Pit,” Anjali said.
Detective James flipped open his notepad.
“And you are?”
“Anjali Singh.”
“You two seeing each other?” Detective James asked.
“Yes,” he replied, placing his arm around her waist and pulling her against him.
“You were alone last night?”
Detective James watched him carefully.
“Yes.”
“So you have no idea who could be in The Pit?”
“No, I told you-”
His eyes squeezed shut.
“Ah, fuck!”
He sank into the couch, his head in his hands.
She’s never going to believe me. Hell, even I don’t believe me.
“Tommy? What’s the matter?”
“After I left your house, I went to a bar.”
Her shoulders tensed.
“And?”
“Janice showed up.”
Her lips pressed into a fine line.
“And?”
He held his hands up.
“She wanted to—but I didn’t. I left the bar alone. I swear. Ask the bartender. Ask anybody there. I left alone,” he insisted.
He didn’t care if Detective James believed him. Only Anjali mattered.
She took a deep breath and let it out.
“I believe you, Tommy,” she said.
She sat next to him. She reached for his hand and he gripped it, grateful for her support.
Detective James glanced from one to the other.
“Who’s Janice?” Detective James asked.
“Janice Fuller. She’s my best friend’s wife.”
“You ever sleep with her?”
“No,” he denied.
Detective James ran his hand over his tie, smoothing it down.
“I understand this is a sensitive topic—”
“Never,” he reiterated.
“—and your girlfriend is sitting right there—”
He leaned forward.
“She’s not my type,” he said.
Detective James leaned forward.
“Then what was she doing in your shop?”
He leaned back, placing his arm around Anjali.
“Probably trying to cause trouble. She hates me, you know.”
“Hates you? I thought she wanted to—ahem—”
“That’s got nothing to do with liking someone. Not for her, anyway.”
Detective James scribbled something in his notebook.
“So after you left the bar?”
“I went home. To the shop. My apartment is above the shop.”
Detective James waved his pen from him to Anjali.
“You two had a fight last night?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“And you made up this morning.”
“Yes.”
“So you were single when you—”
He raised his voice.
“—Passed out on my couch last night wishing I was with Anjali? Yes.”
“Tommy,” she said softly, caressing his chest.
Her touch calmed him down.
“He’s trying to cause trouble between us, Honey. After what I’ve been through, I’m not letting anything else come between us.”
“What’d you fight about?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“I’d like to remind you, Mr. Keller, this is a murder investigation.”
“Our fight has nothing to do with Janice. How was she killed anyway?”
“The Medical Examiner hasn’t done the autopsy yet.”
“So you don’t know that she was murdered,” he said.
Detective James cleared his throat.
“What started the fire?” Anjali asked.
Detective James flipped through his notebook.
“Fire Marshal said the source of the fire was oily rags. Either they were set on fire or they spontaneously combusted.”
“Why can’t you identify her body?” she asked.
“We didn’t find her purse. No wallet, no ID.”
Anjali snuggled against him.
“That proves Tommy had nothing to do with it. If he had invited her in, she’d have taken her purse with her. If she were sneaking in, however—”
A cell phone rang. Detective James answered, “James.”
He nodded as he listened, occasionally jotting down something in his little notebook.
“I see. Thanks, Doc.”
Detective James hung up then returned his phone to his pocket.
“That was the Medical Examiner. Said she had a sprained ankle and cracked skull. She also had serious chemical burns on her eyes. Not from the fire.”
“From what?” he asked.
“Something in your shop?”
Detective James closed his notebook and returned it to his jacket pocket.
“The medical examiner thinks she burned her eyes, twisted her ankle and fell into the grate.”
Detective James shrugged.
“Tragic accident.”
Detective James stood up. Before he left, he asked, “You have an address for Janice Fuller?”
“Her husband works for Martin and Fuller. He’s probably still at work.”
“Even with his wife missing?”
“Some men are too blind to see what’s important,” he said, pulling her closer. “I’m glad I’m no longer one of them.”
***
The dryer buzzer went off and she carried the empty white basket into the laundry room. Reaching in, she grasped one of Tom’s shirts.
It’s still wet. Hmm. Something must be wrong with the dryer. I’ll have to ask him to check on it when he returns from his job interview.
Relieved that he was alive, she had insisted that he move in with her.
“I thought you said living together wasn’t enough of a commitment for you,” he said.
“I love you, Tommy. I don’t want to spend another minute without you.”
She smiled at the memory.
“At least I don’t have a bunch of stuff to move,” he joked.
“I can’t believe you’d say that, Tommy. You lost everything in that fire.”
He pulled her close and said, “Not everything.”
She reset the dryer and started it.
One last task to complete before he gets home. He’s only been here a week and I can’t remember what life was like without him.
She poured a cup of coffee and went up to her office. She picked up the crisp white folder and set it on her desk. Taking a sip, she opened the folder and picked up the first applicant.
I’m sure your genes would make a great kid. But not for me.
She reached under her desk and pulled out her paper shredder. She fed the paper into the shredder. The shredder buzzed as it sliced through profile after profile. When the folder was empty, she tossed it into her trash can and reached for the ‘Adoption paperwork’ folder.
“Honey?” Tommy called.
“In my office,” she called back.
He thundered up the stairs.
“I got the job. You’re looking at the new Assistant Manager of Al’s Auto—”
He saw the folder on her desk.
Between the media and filing insurance claims and doctor visits, they hadn’t had time to address her plans.
“I
was just getting rid of that,” she assured him.
“Honey, I thought you wanted children.”
“I do. But I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.”
He glanced at his watch then pulled off his shirt.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said.
Her mouth fell open.
“Tommy—are—are you serious?”
“Yes. But we’d better hurry up before they get here.”
He pulled her out of her chair.
“Who gets here? What are you talking about?”
He pulled off her shirt and tossed it behind him.
Between kisses he answered, “Mikey. Jack. Your parents.”
He unbuttoned her pants and tugged them down.
“My parents? Why—why are my parents coming here?”
She placed her hands on his shoulder for balance while she stepped out of her pants.
“For our engagement party,” he replied.
“Engagement?”
Dazed, she shook her head.
He reached into his jeans and pulled out a diamond ring. He held it up to her.
“I’m going to be very embarrassed if you don’t say yes.”
“Tommy—”
“Honey, will you marry me?” he asked.
Ding-Dong.
“Anjali!” Jiji yelled.
“I swear, I didn’t tell her,” Tommy said.
“Are you sure you want to be part of my crazy family?” she asked.
“Without a doubt,” he said.
She caressed his face.
“Yes,” she answered.
He slipped the ring on her finger and stood.
With a resigned sigh, he said, “I guess we’d better go let her in.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him to their bedroom.
“Honey?”
“I’ve been waiting all week for you to heal. She can wait a few more minutes.”
With a saucy grin, she pulled down his pants and pushed him on their bed.
~~~
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Wait for Me. Please don’t forget to give this book a quick review on Amazon. Even a brief review helps tremendously. Positive or negative, I’m grateful for all feedback from my readers.
~Diana
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About the Author
Diana Persaud is a self published author of erotic and contemporary romance. She has written several erotic novellas and is currently working on a half dozen more.
Wait for Me Page 13
