Will Isabella understand? Will she be willing to take all of this craziness on?
I sigh and look at the clock on my wall, waiting to see her. Waiting to find out. Waiting for my lawyer to find something solid to build a case on. Just always fucking waiting.
I walk over to the fridge and pull it open, peeking inside. Isabella was very insistent about not going to a restaurant tonight. Between that and her refusal to let me pick her up, I think I know what’s coming.
She’s breaking this off.
We’re done.
My heart aches at the thought. I haven’t been in a real relationship for years, and even before that, I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s my perfect match. When we began dating I felt like when you finally fit the final piece into a puzzle you’ve been working on forever. Like she was notched exactly right to fit against me, to fill out my life and build a beautiful picture together.
I can’t let her walk out of my life. I can’t lose someone so amazing because of someone so terrible. Lisa has caused me a lot of grief, but she won’t take this from me too.
I close the fridge door and look back at the clock. It’s been a minute since I last glanced at the time. Ugh.
All I can do right now is wait.
23
Isabella
Every time the bus stops, my anxiety climbs. When I called Colt and told him I needed to see him, he offered to pick me up and take me to dinner, but I turned him down on both counts.
I knew I’d blurt everything out the second I sat in his car with him. If I did somehow make it all the way to the restaurant first, the last thing I want is to discuss such a serious issue while waiters interrupt us with water refills and spouting off dinner specials. No. The best plan is to tell him in the privacy of his place. That way, if I do need to leave, it can be done with my head held high. Not after waiting through awkward silence for a check to arrive.
Stop expecting the worst. Colt Grant isn’t like Joseph White in any way. For one, Joe was only seventeen when I broke the news to him. Obviously, Colt is more mature, not to mention sweet, generous, and loving. Yet, we’ve only known each other for a month and a half. I knew Joseph for two years, and that history didn’t mean anything as he ran out the door without looking back. Even though that was another man, and I use that term loosely, I still can’t shake my doubts that this time will be much better.
As the bus pulls up to my stop, I briefly consider staying in my seat and just riding to the end of the route. The thought is powerful but fleeting. I push my shoulders back and hold my chin high as I walk off the bus toward my fate.
“Come in! Let me get your jacket.” Colt holds out his hands, ready to hang up my coat.
“Um, no. I have a bit of a chill. I’ll just keep it on for now. Thanks,” I lie, following him into his apartment. I want to wait and see how this is going to go before I start getting too comfortable.
“Uh, sure. No problem.” He frowns at the floor. “Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine?”
“No!” I don’t mean to be so emphatic, I’m just nervous. Isabella, calm down. “A water would be great, though.”
Colt motions to take a seat in his living room. “You’re right, it’s too early for wine anyway.” He walks into his kitchen. “I’ll just get us both water.” Returning with a couple of bottles, he joins me on the sofa. “So, how is everything with you?” I can hear the strain in his voice as he looks for clues on my face.
“Well, they’ve been better.” Even after a long swig of my water, my throat is still parched. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I’ve really needed to talk to you, but I didn’t want to do this over the phone…”
“Wait, Isabella.” He holds his hand up like a stop sign, cutting me off. “Everything can be explained, okay? Can’t you just hear me out first?”
“No, not right now. There’s something I have to get off my chest first—”
“Isabella!” The exasperation is his voice shuts me up. “There isn’t another woman. How could there be? After I met you, I didn’t want to meet anyone else—”
“No, that’s not what I wanted to say. Not exactly.” Have my hands ever been this interesting before? I can’t seem to tear my eyes off them as they tremble slightly. He’s not Joseph, Isabella. Give him a chance.
Colt’s ringing phone interrupts our moment, a moment that feels like it’s locked in ice and lost in darkness. I’m in a dreamlike daze as he answers and walks into the kitchen. I let my thoughts drift away from my fears and let myself imagine, just for a moment, how this could go.
The Hudson looks absolutely spectacular from Colt’s window. What if we’re meant to be? Maybe I could spend my mornings soaking in that view over breakfast, and lunch, and dinner…
“What? Where?” Colt yells into the phone and freezes in place. “No! Don’t do anything until I get there!” His body contorts like he’s been sucker punched. “I will be there in less than four hours”—he looks at his watch frantically—“five at the most. Just hold on.”
Hanging up the phone, he looks around the apartment wildly as my confusion grows. “What’s going on? Are you leaving?”
“Yes, I have to go right now. Where the fuck is my bag?” He runs down the hallway to his room, and I follow like a confused child who’s woken up from a bout of sleepwalking.
“You have to go now? Right now? You’re running out the door again? For God-knows-what and for God-knows-how-long? Colt! I’m sick and tired of this! I’m not gonna be in a relationship with some kind of fucking Houdini. Hey, are you even listening to me?” I watch as he tosses some clothes and deodorant in a gym bag and brushes past me.
“Look, I don’t have time to get into all of this right now. My little girl is sitting with a goddamned social worker, and I need to go get her. If you want to know why I keep taking off, then just come with me. I don’t have time to explain it. I have to get on a flight!” Colt scoops up his keys and double-checks his pants for his wallet as I stand in the center of his bedroom frozen.
His little girl? A social worker? My mind keeps turning over the words, but they aren’t making sense.
“Colt, what the hell are you talking about?” I twist my hands in frustration. “Just give me five minutes and tell me what the hell is going on,” I plead.
“Isabella! I don’t have time for this! Are you coming or not? I have to go now!” The panic in his eyes makes my stomach lurch.
I want to blurt out my news. Tell him I’m pregnant and for him to hold me. The moment when I actually saw this all working out is evaporating in front of my eyes and I want it back. Yet, my curiosity is overwhelming. Since I’ve met Colt, he’s been running out the door. If I go with him, I might finally get some answers. Or at least a clearer picture of who the father of my child is. I need to know what this is all about. Who the mysterious magnet that keeps pulling him from my life is. His little girl? Another child? I can’t stay in the dark anymore. I need to know what’s going on.
“I’m coming with you.”
24
Isabella
“Damn it, Frank, I don’t have all day,” Colt growls at his iPad, waiting for his lawyer to send him a link. As if on command, his inbox makes the familiar ding announcing new mail, and Colt wastes no time opening the message. I watch as his finger hovers over the blue link, trembling slightly before he presses it.
A YouTube video opens, giving us a glimpse into a sunny afternoon on the beach. The owner of the shaky footage is recording a beach volleyball game while giggling with her friend about some cute guys. Sure enough, the cell phone footage sweeps across the sand to the glistening hard bodies of two twenty-something white guys in long board shorts standing around pretending they’re trying not to be noticed. Although their inexplicable flexing and slightly oiled up muscles are telling a different story.
The camera quickly sweeps back across the sand and a blast of wind hits the speaker, making Colt and me both jump in our seats. I’m still waiting for something in this vid
eo to explain why we’re sitting on a private jet heading for Florida right now. The volleyball game barely comes back into focus when the girl behind the camera decides to focus on a woman walking into the water with a large basket instead.
“Oh my God, Leah. Look at her! I told you this beach was full of crazies.” The unidentified recorder laughs as she gains the attention of her friend. They both break out into a giggle fest as we watch the woman walk into the waves fully clothed.
The water splashes up over her shoes as she struggles to keep the basket balanced. Her jeans are soaking up the waves lapping at her ankles, yet she seems oblivious. Her only focus is holding the basket steady as she moves forward deeper into the rolling ocean waves.
The woman stops in her tracks, wrestling to hang onto the basket, which seems to be jostling in her hands. In the background, a couple of teenage boys stop splashing water at each other to turn and stare.
Colt and I watch in horror as the woman tries to shove something back down into the basket. No longer able to contain the movements, the woman leans over and holds it on the surface of the water. The reason for her struggles are quickly revealed when a tiny toddler almost flips it upside down in an attempt to stand up, throwing her arms around the woman’s neck.
Colt and I gasp at the same time as the girls behind the camera. My breathing slows down as my heartbeat rises in my throat. What the hell is she doing? The child is crying so frantically, we can’t hear anything except “Mama, please! Mama, Mama.”
The woman looks completely unaffected, almost like a zombie. It’s like she’s taken too much Ambien. I’ve seen this look before. It’s a look of hopelessness, of giving up.
Screams rip through the iPad speakers so loudly, they crackle. On the screen the cell phone jostles around, but footage remains fixed on the woman and child. She’s trying to pry her child’s arms from around her neck in an eerily calm manner. It’s like she’s running on autopilot as she attempts to make the panic-stricken little girl sit down in the wooden basket bobbing on the waves.
“James! James! Get over here. Look at this woman. Stop her! What is she doing? Oh my God, she’s going to drown that kid! Holy fuck, she’s gonna drown her!” The woman behind the camera starts screaming. Apparently the consequences of crazy aren’t funny to her anymore.
A rumble of screaming and yelling erupts over the beach as more people take notice. Still the woman looks completely unaffected by the scene she’s causing.
Her sole focus is on keeping the little girl in the basket. Two college age boys slice through the water and reach her as the woman is still attempting to push the basket away after successfully pulling her daughter’s arms off of her.
The little girl is screaming in a cry of desperation that can only come from sheer terror. Above the screams of the panic-struck crowd, I can hear the little girl’s cries cut through them all begging the woman, “Mama, no! Please, please, Mama, no. No!” She sobs over and over.
I twist my head away from the screen, afraid of what I might see next. Colt is completely absorbed in the video, hunched toward the image. His face is twisted in anguish and his eyes are misting up with tears as he continues watching. I can’t stand to see him like this, so helpless. I go back to watching the horrible video instead.
It isn’t until one of the good Samaritans pulls the basket away from her that the woman seems to come to, like somebody snapped their fingers beside her at a hypnotist show. I actually see her shoulders twitch like she was shaken from some sort of deep dream… or nightmare. When she sees the young man attempt to rescue the girl she begins to freak out. You would think from her reaction that he’s trying to kill her. The woman begins thrashing and jerking as one of the men holds her tight. She’s still trying with all her might to kick the basket into the water. She’s screaming and writhing as though she is possessed.
Luckily, the young man has a firm grasp on the little girl. He easily pulls her free and holds her safely over the water as her little toes dangle by his side. The other young man is forced to restrain the woman. She looks like she could become violent at any second. As he holds her arms behind her, she twists and flails about.
Her face is contorted with anger. “You ruined everything! She needs to be found in the reeds. I need to save her from the pharaoh! You don’t understand. Moses, he came to me in a dream. He told me!”
The young man carrying the child brings her safely back to the shore and a crowd of mostly women surrounds them. People are clapping. Others have their hands drawn to their chests in horror at the scene that just unfolded in front of them. In the background security is racing up the beach, spitting sand from their tires at anyone foolish enough to still be lying on their towels in their path.
The cell phone camera swirls back over to the woman in the water. She’s sobbing and leaning over like she’s trying to unclasp herself from the man’s grasp and float away into the ocean herself. She’s still pleading her case with conviction. “You don’t understand,” she cries over and over.
“Oh my God, that bitch is so fucking crazy. She just tried to kill her kid! Did you see that?”
The video is abruptly ended, but the scene of the terrified child and the sobbing mother are burned into my mind. The moment is already replaying itself over and over in horrifying detail. Colt and I are both still frozen, staring at the screen despite the fact the video is over, apparently in the same deep, traumatized trance.
My hand instinctively hovers over my belly as fat tears roll down my cheeks. I can barely swallow, as if somebody punched me right in the throat. How can anyone harm a child? The idea rips a hole in my heart. Glancing at Colt’s set jaw and white-knuckled grip on the armrest, he appears to be equally affected by the video, not with sadness, but with rage.
“Was, I mean, is that your daughter?” I whisper the words over my strained vocal chords.
Colt finally looks up from the screen, his hazel eyes darkened by anger. He shakes his head slowly from side to side, wordlessly, but his face tells me exactly what he’s feeling.
“No. Madison isn’t my daughter. She’s my niece. Fuck Lisa!” He slams his fist on the armrest, making me jump at the unexpected outburst. “I’m sorry.” He unfurls his fingers and rubs them over my shoulder gently, reassuring me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just, well, this is a lot to take in right now.” He sweeps his hand toward the iPad, now turned off and reflecting our anguish back at us.
I nod in agreement as Madison’s frantic face flashes before my eyes again, bringing fresh tears with the memory.
“Colt, what is this all about? What’s going on?” My voice falters as I desperately search his face for answers I’m not sure he has.
Colt opens his mouth, but an announcement from the pilot interrupts him.
“Good afternoon, sir. I wanted to inform you that all systems are a go and we’re ready to take off. The air conditions are working in our favor today, so we’re expecting to arrive at William Gwinn Airport in three hours and forty minutes today since the tailwind will be pushing us along in the right direction. Nicole will be your flight attendant on this trip, so don’t hesitate to get her assistance for anything that will make this short flight a little more comfortable. I’d ask that you remain seated with your buckles fastened for take-off, and Nicole will alert you when it’s safe to walk around.”
Nicole smiles at us, well, more accurately at Colt, from the front of the small plane. With her plastered on makeup and flat-ironed hair she looks like she’s spent a lot of time perfecting the look of a stewardess, right down to the extra-toothy grin reserved for my man.
The jet engines roar as we bump and roll down the tarmac. Within seconds we’re leaning back against our seats as the nose of the little plane pokes through the clouds like an Olympic high diver cutting into a pool of water. As the plane levels out, so does Colt’s mood. The hostility he carried on his face has melted away into sadness.
Nicole stands up with an unnaturally large smile to make her way t
o our seat, but Colt raises his hand, signaling her to leave us alone. I get a little kick out of watching the disappointment cloud over her face and rub it in a bit when I lean into him and rest my head against his arm.
“Lisa, the woman you saw in the video, is my sister-in-law and she’s sick.” His voice wavers a little.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she isn’t well. I don’t think anyone who watches that video will think differently.
“She’s my brother’s wife. Well, she’s my brother’s widow, I guess.” He circles his thumb and forefinger around the gold watch on his wrist while he searches for his words.
“I’m so sorry you lost your brother, Colt.” I touch his arm, waiting for him to continue.
He nods at my condolence and clears his throat loudly. “Thank you.” He draws a huge breath into his lungs, and I stop leaning on his arm so I can look at him.
I’ve never seen him so emotional. Colt keeps clenching his jaw like he’s trying to keep his feelings locked inside. “Trevor died from leukemia a year and a half ago when Madison was six months. I know she doesn’t remember him, but she sure looks like him. Whenever I see her, I see him looking back at me.”
“That must be hard.” I grab his hand and give it a little squeeze.
“You’d think so, but I actually find it comforting in a lot of ways. When Trevor found out he was near the end, he asked me to watch over Madison and to do everything I could for her. Begged me is probably a more accurate description. He knew Lisa wasn’t well. I mean, she had a drinking problem before he ever got sick, but he thought she beat it when she quit for her pregnancy. He was wrong. Obviously, it goes without saying that she’s also mentally ill.”
His unexplained absences suddenly become so clear in my mind. To say he’s been keeping his promise to his brother would be an understatement.
His Promise Page 9
