Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  I fought it for a week, but eventually I couldn't take it any more.

  I sat in Fred's visitor chair and said, "I have to quit. I have to go."

  He leaned back in his chair, his eyes serious and sad. "Where are you going to go? What would be better than here?"

  "Anywhere," I said, my voice coming out angrier than I'd intended. I cleared my throat and went on. "Anywhere nobody knows me. Anywhere I don't see him everywhere. Anywhere we've never been together."

  "Back to Alberta?"

  I sighed. "My parents want it, but... we were together there, on holidays, and besides..." I shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't want to."

  He nodded. "You're a grown woman. It doesn't surprise me that you don't want to live with your parents."

  Frustration filled me. "But where should I go?" I pulled myself together. "Sorry. Not your problem. But I do need to give you my two weeks'--"

  "Not my problem? Alexa, you've been working for me for over four years. I have watched you struggle with a situation that would have destroyed most people and I've been cheering you on all the way. It may not be my problem but I want to be part of its solution."

  Touched by the passion in his voice, I couldn't speak for a moment.

  His eyes softened. "Honey, look. I understand why you can't be in New York any more. I get that. How's your German?"

  I blinked. "My what now?"

  "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?"

  "Pardon?"

  "I'll take that as a no." He smiled. "I was thinking you could join the Frankfurt office. They're looking for an editor for the English books they're working on. But maybe a whole new continent is too much of a change for you?"

  I considered it, then reluctantly nodded. "I do want a big change, but I'm terrible at languages. I had to take French growing up and I barely survived. Can't remember a thing."

  "What about Toronto then? Rhonda's expanding her team. Her assistant is actually on vacation right now, for the next couple of weeks. You could go there and be her assistant part-time and edit part-time and when Carly comes back from vacation you could edit full-time if you felt up to it, or we'll find you something else to do if you don't want to edit. And since you're Canadian you wouldn't need a work visa like we had to get for you here. But more importantly, you could build yourself a whole new life there. Although I hope you'd still talk to me occasionally."

  We smiled at each other, and he waited in silence while I thought it through. Fred was an awesome guy but being his assistant wasn't the kind of challenge I wanted in my work life. I missed the intellectual nature of editing. As for Toronto, I'd been there a few times but never for a long stay and never with Christophe. It might work. "Do you think Rhonda would be okay with that?"

  He smiled again. "Alexa, who owns this company?"

  "You do, sir," I said in a sickly sweet tone.

  His smile widened. "She'll be fine with it." He sobered. "Are you, though? Is it what you want?"

  I wasn't quite sure. Leaving New York felt like letting Christophe win, but staying was torture. I had no support network in Toronto, but then I didn't have one here either. Most of my friends had been the girlfriends of his friends and it had been too awkward to stay connected. My coworkers were nice, but the Toronto ones probably would be too.

  A new start, while still keeping my ties to Fred and his company. It was awfully tempting. But...

  I'd never been the most decisive of people, but since the assault I'd been wishy-washy like it was my job. I couldn't make the call right now. "Can I think about it?"

  "Of course." He reached out and patted my hand. "Think as long as you want."

  *****

  I did think. I thought while I processed his email and sorted his mail and answered his phone, since none of that required my full attention. I thought on the subway on the way home, I thought as I ate a pita from the place near my apartment, and I thought as I walked slowly down my street toward the Hudson River after dinner. The sun was setting but the sky wasn't anywhere close to dark yet, which made it my favorite time to stroll along the pier and look out at the water as it reflected the sun's glow.

  I loved New York, no question about it. But was it the right place for me?

  Or was Toronto?

  Or Alberta?

  I knew how it would be if I went back to live with my parents, or even in my own apartment near them. I'd be back to being a teenager again in no time, doing what they said or feeling guilty and wrong for going my own way. I'd have no independence and no way to live my own life. Plus, everyone there knew me and knew exactly what had happened to me. They might not say it out loud but I'd know they knew. No anonymity, ever.

  I had had anonymity in New York, and I would probably get it again, eventually. But until that happened life would be dreadful, and even after I might not be able to get over my feeling that New York belonged to me-and-Christophe not to me alone.

  Which left Toronto.

  A big city, although not as big as New York. But I could be anonymous there. Fred thought it would be good for me, which carried a lot of weight. I trusted his judgment. And he was right that I could have a new life there.

  Of course, I had a life here, one I'd made for myself. I had my work, and my home, and my corners in the parks, and...

  And nothing. I couldn't think of anything else. For the last two years I had gone to work and gone home and gone to work again, with occasional lurking in a park to break up the monotony.

  The truth of that stunned me. I'd thought I'd rebuilt my life since the assault, but I'd really only built myself some safe places in which to hide. I wasn't living, I was existing. Subsisting.

  That wasn't good enough any more.

  I pulled out my cell phone to call Fred, then stared at it. Even this. I'd had a smartphone which I'd loved, but I'd realized during those awful hours in that apartment building that Christophe had been using its GPS to track my movements. I had gotten rid of it the day I got out of the hospital, changing it for the stupidest phone I could find so nothing like that could happen again.

  I was living in a place of fear. That had to change. I had to change it.

  *****

  Fred gave me a hug. "I'll miss you, Alexa. But I'm glad you've decided to go. I think it'll help you."

  I squeezed him hard. "I hope so. Thank you for arranging things in Toronto."

  He patted my back then released me. "Don't thank me yet, I ain't finished." He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.

  I opened it, took one look at the check inside, and shook my head. "Fred, you don't have to. I'll be fine. And this is way too generous anyhow."

  I tried to give him back the check but he put his hands behind his back. "Not nearly generous enough. You've spent two years as my assistant, putting up with my crap on a daily basis. If anything, there should be at least two more zeroes on that check."

  "Don't even joke about giving me two and a half million. Even this is way too much. Fred, really. I'm okay."

  He put his hand on my shoulder, his face suddenly more serious than I'd ever seen it before. "Alexa, I've come to think of you as almost another daughter. If it had been Rhonda who'd gone through all that, I'd hope that someone would give her whatever it took to help her find her way to a new life. I know money can't fix it but it will make your new start easier. I really want to do this for you. Will you let me?"

  My throat tightened and I whispered, "Okay."

  He squeezed my shoulder, his eyes suspiciously shiny. "Good." He stepped back, taking a deep breath. "Okay then. Put that thing away before all your coworkers demand one too."

  I laughed and tucked the check into my purse. "Thank you, Fred. I do appreciate it."

  "You'd better," he said, winking at me. "So. All packed up?"

  I nodded. I hadn't had much in the office, just a little makeup and a few CDs, so it hadn't taken long. Only moments to erase the more than four years I'd spent in the office. Additional proof, as if I needed it, that I really didn'
t have roots in New York.

  "And at home?"

  "Nope. I'll do that today. Flight's at ten tomorrow morning."

  "I'd drive you but I have that agent coming to see me."

  I smiled. "I know. Who do you think put the meeting in your calendar?"

  He laughed. "I'll be lost without you, you know. I'm going to call you every day so my business doesn't fall apart."

  "Deal."

  We stood looking at each other. I couldn't quite bring myself to leave.

  He reached out and gave me a hug. "You'll make it, Alexa," he said, his voice rough. "Trust me."

  I sniffled but managed not to cry. "I do."

  He set me away, holding my shoulders. "Well. Good. Now, when we have the big all-staff party this summer I expect to see you. Yes?"

  I made myself smile to force away the tears. "You paying for the trip?"

  He laughed. "Always do. And for you I might even spring for a first-class flight. Maybe."

  "Something to look forward to."

  He put his arm around my shoulders and led me out of the office. "Definitely."

  With his support I said goodbye to my coworkers, who all wished me well and said they'd look forward to seeing me in July, then he delivered me to the elevator. "You take care of yourself," he said gruffly. "And if you need anything let me know."

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  The elevator door opened and he said, "Are you ready?"

  For a second I wanted to throw myself back into his arms and beg him to take care of me. But I made myself raise my chin and say, "Yup."

  He smiled, his eyes full of pride. "That's my girl. Go show Toronto how it's done."

  I laughed and backed into the elevator so I could still see him.

  He stayed, smiling at me, until the door closed.

  On the ride down to the lobby my tears rose again but I forced them back. I'd see him again in just a few months, and in the meantime I had a new life to build.

  I caught sight of myself in the elevator's mirrored wall. I still looked exactly as I had with Christophe. What better way to start my new life than with a whole new look?

  Chapter Five

  "I like your hair."

  I turned, surprised because I'd thought I was alone in my new apartment building's lobby except for the building manager and he hadn't expressed any interest in my appearance before, to see a tall dark-haired woman whose mouth bore a small smile and whose eyes studied me like her life depended on it

  Trying to ignore the intensity in her gaze, I said, "Thanks," and tugged at a strand. "It's a lot shorter than I'm used to."

  It was certainly not a Christophe-approved cut, but I wasn't positive it was Alexa-approved either. After leaving the New York office for the last time I'd gone straight to a nearby salon I'd never visited before, and when the stylist asked me what I wanted all I could say was, "Not what I've got." He took me at my word, and my new hair was barely an inch long, with blonde and red streaks livening up my boring brown, and stood up in a spiky halo around my head. It did look neat, but I startled myself every time I saw my reflection.

  With the new hair, my old makeup had looked far too washed out so on my way back to my apartment I'd hit the drugstore and picked up brighter lipstick and eye makeup. I liked the new vibrancy the cosmetics brought to my face, but I wasn't sure about the hair. It might be too much of a change for me.

  "Well, it looks good." Her hair was about twice as long as mine and swept back in a sleekly professional cut. Maybe I'd try something like it next if I couldn't get used to the spikes. She held out a hand. "I'm Jillian Jones."

  "Alexa Ryder." I had considered taking on a fake name but I knew it would hurt my parents and I'd feel even less like myself. Plus I'd probably forget to use it.

  We shook hands, and I saw her eyes run over my face, taking everything in.

  "New to Toronto or just to the building?"

  "Toronto. I've been living in New York but my work transferred me here," I said, giving the simplified story I'd decided on while the airplane whisked me away from my old life. If I wanted a fresh start, there was no point dredging up the past with everyone I met.

  "What kind of work?"

  "I'm an editor. Crime fiction." The words felt funny coming out, since I hadn't been an editor for a long time and while I had loved crime fiction before the attack living the real thing had blunted its appeal for me.

  "Neat. What company?"

  "Warren Press."

  "How long have you been with them?"

  "Four years," I said, before wondering why she was asking.

  She nodded once, as if checking something off on a list. "Where are you from originally?"

  Alberta was on the tip of my tongue but I held it back. "Not from around here. Why?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Hiding something?"

  "No," I said, hoping it wasn't obvious that I was. "Wondering why you're asking, that's all."

  She blinked. "Just trying to get to know my new neighbor. You're in apartment 813, right?"

  I glanced at the building manager standing behind her, who gave his eyes a quick roll, then back at her. "How did you know that?"

  "Only unit open in the building." She looked me straight in the eye. "I'm in 816. See you later, Alexa."

  Somehow it felt like a threat.

  *****

  Safely locked in my apartment, I tried to put Jillian out of my mind. The building manager had rolled his eyes again after she left and said, "Ignore her. She's a lawyer and she doesn't trust anyone." No doubt he'd intended that to be comforting, but with my history I wasn't sure I wanted a lawyer wondering about me.

  I hated that I felt guilty for my past. 'Guilty' wasn't quite the right word, but I couldn't find a better one. I didn't want anyone to know even though it hadn't been my fault. Embarrassed? Was that the right word? Humiliated? Stupid?

  Fortunately I probably wouldn't see Jillian much even though we lived on the same floor. She no doubt had a busy work schedule, and I would too, so with any luck she wouldn't think about me again. I didn't want to think about her either.

  Luckily I had lots of other things to keep my mind occupied. Fred had given me his daughter's email address at work, saying she was terrible at answering her phone but always on email, so I had to set up my laptop and see if I could get connected to the Internet service that came with the apartment so I could contact her. I also had to unpack, try to make the rather bland furnished apartment feel more like a home, go out and get myself a cell phone, and worry about meeting my new boss and coworkers tomorrow. A full day's work, and it was already three o'clock.

  The computer and Internet cooperated so I sent a quick note to Rhonda to let her know I'd be at the office at nine o'clock if that worked for her then went on to take a look at the rest of my email.

  One stood out.

  Alexa,

  You haven't answered my last two messages but I hope this one will do the trick. I really do think we should work together to put your story in print. I didn't mean to upset you at the courthouse, if I did, and I'd be happy to buy you a coffee in apology. Your ex made you look a certain way at the trial and I'm sure there's more to you than that. We can set the record straight together.

  Email or call any time,

  Lance

  I sighed. I had indeed deleted his last two messages, because the first had been all about how I'd shocked him by not denying that I loved Christophe still after everything and the second had been about how he'd reconsidered and that just proved I was a great person who deserved to have my story told. This time he'd gone for the 'let's make you look less like a pain-loving monster' angle, and I didn't much like this attempt either.

  But there was a certain appeal in the idea of having my story told. Not yet, of course, since the trial-inflicted wounds were still too fresh. But I knew that some blogs and news sites were discussing how something like that could have happened to someone like me, who until then had seemed like a normal person, and maybe
telling the story would help me understand too.

  The one thing I did understand was that I'd horribly misjudged Christophe. Never in a billion years would I have thought he'd be capable of what he did. If I could be that wrong about someone I loved, someone with whom I spent four years of my life, how could I ever be right about anyone?

  Hoping telling my story someday would answer that for me too, I replied to Lance.

  Lance,

  I have moved to Toronto and am absolutely not ready to do this now. However, at some point I will most likely be in touch.

  Thanks for understanding,

  Alexa

  As I sent that off, a new email arrived. Rhonda, saying nine was perfect and giving me directions to the office from my new apartment. It alarmed me briefly that she knew exactly where I lived, then I had to laugh at myself. Of course she did. She'd found the apartment for me at her dad's request. I had to stop being so paranoid. First the thing with Jillian, now this. I had to loosen up or I wouldn't be able to start a new life.

  A remnant of my old life still lingered in my email, though, one I could not leave behind.

  Dear Alexa,

  We're sorry to hear you decided not to come home and especially sorry you've picked another big city. Are you really sure about this, honey? Here everyone knows who you are and understands what you've been through. We'd be able to help, much more than a bunch of strangers in Toronto.

  But of course it's your decision. We're just worried about you.

  Let us know as soon as you have a phone there, okay?

  Love,

  Mom

  Vowing to put off giving her my soon-to-be-acquired cell phone number for at least a few days so I wouldn't have to hear her guilt trips as well as read them, I wrote back to say I was fine and was sure of my decision then shut down the computer and began to unpack my clothes. I needed to find the perfect outfit for the first day of work.

  The perfect outfit for the first day of my new life.