His only response is to grab my arm and pull me to him. With his arms wrapped around me, he squeezes me tight. Relief pours off of him in waves as I feel the tension fall from his body. Reluctantly, he lets go and pushes away a little. “Thank you,” he says. My head tilts to the side and he continues. “Thank you for coming back to me.”
Closing the distance between us, I seal my lips with his. A calm settles over me as I relax into him. I’m taking a leap of faith, risking my heart in the process. It’s by far the scariest thing I’ve ever done, and I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
Marcus
“I WANT TO file a restraining order against her,” I tell Mr. Kline, my dad’s attorney.
“Don’t you think that’ll make it hard to co-parent if the results are positive?”
“There will be no co-parenting,” I all but snarl at him. “It’s impossible for me to be the father.”
He removes his glasses from his face. “Either way, unless she’s posing a threat or you have proof she’s harassing you, the judge won’t issue one.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. With my elbows on the table, I rest my face in my hands. “Basically, I can’t do shit to her for trying to ruin my life.”
“Legally? Not really.”
This is complete bullshit. I’ve been working every angle with Mr. Kline since the day after Stacy showed up a month ago to get her ass for fucking me over like this. He’s probably sick of my face and telling me the same thing over and over. There’s nothing he can do.
“Alright then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Kline. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”
“Any time.” He stands, shakes my hand, and I exit his office.
Getting in my car, I lean my head back and try to calm down. I’m so livid I could break shit right now. I don’t get what she’s trying to accomplish other than to make my life a living hell.
My phone dings in my pocket. I pull it out only to see the bane of my existence flash across the screen.
Stacy: Have you thought about baby names? I was thinking Christopher Marcus Riley III if it’s a boy.
I blink a few times, certain that I’m imagining this. She’s acting like everything is normal.
Me: Are you fucking kidding me right now?
My phone rings in my hand. “I’m not playing around, Stacy. You better back off and leave me the hell alone,” I tell her when I answer.
“I’m only kidding about the baby names. Your little girlfriend leave yet?” I can so clearly picture the smirk on her face right now, and it has me fuming.
“Is that seriously your endgame in all of this? Just to put a divide between Lydia and me?”
“Maybe I just want you to feel the hurt you’ve caused me.”
My head jerks back slightly. What the hell? “Are you talking about when we broke up?”
“No. I’m not.” Her tone is harsh, which only further confuses me. Before I have a chance to respond, there’s a click and the line goes dead.
“Hey, honey,” my mom greets. I give her a kiss on the cheek and come into the house.
“Dad at work?” I ask her.
“Nope, he just ran upstairs real quick. Do you want something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “It’s Monday. I’m surprised he’s not at the office.”
“Your dad is slowing down in his old age and taking a step back. It’s nice having him home more.” A warm smile spreads across her face and I’m envious. I’ve always looked up to my parents and the relationship they have. Sure they’ve had their ups and downs, but they’re solid. They love each other and at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. I want that in my life.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Leaning back in a chair, I look up at the ceiling and release a large breath. “Mr. Kline said I can’t prosecute Stacy for anything.”
She makes a disapproving grunt before having a seat in the chair across from me. “How are things with you and Lydia?”
I let out a sigh. “They’re a little strained, but we’re working through it.”
Her brow furrows and her head tilts. “I thought she said she believed you.”
“She says she does, but I can tell she’s preparing herself for bad news. She’s more distant than she used to be, her smile never reaches her eyes, and I feel like she’s always looking at me for clues that I’m lying.”
Mom places a comforting hand on my arm. “Be patient. She’s been through a lot.”
I nod. I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make this any easier. “I just want things to go back to the way they were a month ago. I’m at a loss here. My hands are tied and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
“How much longer until Stacy has her baby?”
“Two more months.”
She shakes her head. “I really don’t understand what she thinks she’s accomplishing with all of this.”
“That makes two of us,” I mumble. “She actually called before I came over and it was the weirdest thing. It’s like she’s got it in for me all of a sudden after all this time. I honestly feel like her only goal is to make me lose Lydia.”
“I always had a bad feeling about that one. Something about her never sat right with me. She was too eager,” my mom says.
I let out a humorless huff. “Eager isn’t how I’d describe her now. More like fucking insane.” I put my head in my hands. “I don’t know why this is happening to us.”
“I’ve always believed there’s a purpose to the things that happen in life, and I feel the same about this.”
I blink a few times, trying to decide if I missed something in all of this. “Really? What reason could that be?” The disbelief in my voice is hard to miss.
She shrugs. “I’m not sure, and sometimes we never know, but look at your life events that have led to where you are today. What are the odds you’d run into Lydia after meeting in Myrtle Beach? We all end up exactly where we’re supposed to be. Maybe this is a test to show how strong the two of you are. Maybe this is life’s way of testing Lydia to prove she’s truly moved on from the pain of her past. Either way, whatever comes of this, if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
I mull over what she said, but it’s hard as hell to leave this up to fate when I’m terrified it’ll be too much for Lydia to take and she’ll leave.
“Christopher, I didn’t know you were coming over,” my dad says as he enters the room. I hate they insist on using my first name when they know everyone calls me by my middle.
“Yeah, I didn’t know either. How’s work treating you?”
“Same old, same old. Your brother is stepping up and taking on more responsibilities as he learns the ropes. That could’ve been you,” he reminds me in an almost singsong voice.
I roll my eyes jokingly. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Most would see my dad’s constant reminders as disapproval, but I know that’s not the case. On the rare occasion I attend one of their functions, my dad is the first to introduce me as his son, the police officer. He wouldn’t force me or my brother to pursue a career we weren’t happy with. I’ve always been grateful for that.
“Anyway, did you go see Bill this morning?” he asks, referring to Mr. Kline. I nod in response. “What did he have to say?”
I let out a sigh. “The same thing he says every time. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Do you hear from Stacy at all?”
I nod and tell him what I told Mom.
He shakes his head. “Well, Bill’s the best at what he does, so I’d trust what he tells you.”
“I do, I’m just frustrated.” My hand runs roughly over my face.
“Well, you only have two months left unless you’re able to convince her to give a blood sample for testing before then.”
My lawyer informed me that I don’t have to wait for the baby to be born and testing can be done beforehand. Of course, Stacy is being a bitch about it and won’t comply. Other than physically
holding her down while they test her, there’s really nothing I can do. Again, hands are fucking tied.
“Once the results come back negative, we’ll revisit our options and see if wrongfully accusing you of being the father of her baby with the intention of causing emotional distress constitutes as harassment and punishable in civil court. Until then, we hang tight and wait,” he continues.
Wait.
Easier said than done.
Marcus
Lydia: They’re in.
TWO WORDS THAT send my heart to the pit of my stomach. The whole way home from work I’m on pins and needles, knowing this is about to be over soon.
Me: I’m on my way.
Lydia: Okay, see you in a few.
Stacy had her baby and I’ve been waiting on the lab to send me the results of the paternity test. If I thought these last three months were long, it was nothing compared to the five days it took the lab to process the results. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m driving as fast as I can toward it.
I pull into my driveway and barely wait to put it in park before I’m running for the front door, anxious to have the proof that we can put this behind us.
“Lydia?” I call out to her. My voice echoes off the walls and all is still and quiet. I hurry into the kitchen to see her sitting on a stool, staring at the envelope on the counter.
Her eyes meet mine, but they’re hard to read at first. As I get closer, I see the myriad of emotions flash through them.
Relief, optimism, hesitation.
Even after all the times I’ve proclaimed my innocence in all of this, she still harbors doubt. As much as I try to rationalize that it has more to do with her than me, I can’t help but feel hurt. It fucking sucks to have the woman you love most in this world question your loyalty and integrity.
“Did you open it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No.”
Even though I know the answer that’s hidden in the envelope, a wave of anxiety still hits me. I have a seat next to her and grab her hand.
“Here we go, okay?” Looking into my eyes, she nods.
Sliding my finger under the closed flap, I pull out the piece of paper inside. There’s a bunch of numbers and letters in rows and columns, none of which I understand. But there’s one thing that leaves no room for interpretation and reads loud and clear.
Probability of Paternity: 0%
I hold the document up for her and her eyes scan the page. I know when she sees the one number that carries most importance by the transformation of her face. All tension, old anger and hostilities leave her body, and sitting before me is my Lydia.
She covers her mouth as a sob threatens. “What’s wrong, babe? This is good news. Why are you crying?” She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes closed. I grab her arm and pull her into my chest while I hold her close to me.
She buries her face in my chest and I feel her breathe me in. “Oh, God, Marcus. I’m so sorry.” Her words are muffled through the fabric of my uniform, and my grip on her tightens.
I kiss the top of her head. “Shhh, it’s okay, babe.”
She shakes her head before pulling away and looking up at me. “No, it’s not. You don’t understand how much relief I felt reading that, and it made me realize I don’t think I believed you. I’ve told you I trusted you, but this made me realize that I really didn’t.” Her eyes close as if in pain. “I’m so, so sorry, Marcus.”
I cup her face in my hands and say, “Open your eyes for me.” When she does, I continue. “I know you struggle with trust issues, but I’ll always love you through it.”
With a calming breath, she nods.
“But I’ll ask you this: do you trust me now?” I search her face for any hint of hesitation or doubt.
With unwavering eye contact, she says, “Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” Closing the distance, I seal her lips with mine as we cross this invisible line that’s been holding us back since the beginning of our relationship. For the first time ever, I feel her let go.
I pull back and look down at her. “What happens next?” she asks.
“Next, we go upstairs and you let me show you I love you. Tomorrow, I’ll call my attorney to see if there’s anything I can do about what she did or to prevent future false accusations.”
She tries to suppress her grin, causing one to form of my own. She takes two steps backwards away from me before she says, “Race you upstairs!”
In two quick strides, I’ve caught up to her. Swooping down, I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. She lets out a squeal from the sudden movement before she’s giggling. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard her genuinely laugh, and I didn’t realize how much I fucking craved it.
Taking the stairs as fast as I can, I throw her on the bed and look her body up and down trying to decide where I should start first.
“First order of business, and then I’m going to fuck you until you forget your name,” I tell her. She licks her lips and I see her squeeze her legs together. It makes me grin. “We let go of the past right now. We don’t look back and enjoy our future, deal?”
She nods several times. “Deal.”
“Good. Now take off your shirt for me.”
Marcus
Lydia: I picked up a nice little surprise while I was out with the girls today. I’m on my way home now. Can’t wait to show it to you. ;-)
I READ HER text one more time as I head home from work. A ton of things go through my mind as I try to picture what this surprise is, and all of them are small and barely cover her sexy-ass body.
It kind of sucks I have to work on Saturdays when she’s off, but at least I’m on the day shift.
It’s been three months since the paternity test proved what I knew all along; Stacy’s a lying, conniving bitch. But I’m happy to say that since then, I haven’t heard a word from her. That dark cloud has moved on for good.
Pulling up alongside Lydia’s car in the driveway, I get out and head inside the house. It’s eerily quiet, but maybe this has something to do with my surprise.
“Lydia,” I almost taunt. “I’m home!” I shout into the wide space. My voice echoes off the walls as I continue through the foyer and into the main living space.
I take another step and damn near fall on my face when the cat tangles himself between my legs. “Meoowww, meowww,” he repeats over and over. He even stands on his hind legs and paws at my thigh.
“Chill, fluffy bastard,” I say as I bend down to pet him, but he’s off. Yeah, he’s a loud pain in the ass, but he’s acting like someone abandoned him for a month with the way he paws and tugs at me with his mouth. “What’s wrong, buddy?” He keeps meowing before walking to the front door and scratching at it. I roll my eyes. Damn thing, always making some kind of noise.
I put my phone down on the kitchen counter next to Lydia’s purse, glancing around at the empty living room. One of the lamps on our side table is knocked over and the pillows are thrown off the couch. I tilt my head to the side since Lydia is always on my ass about taking the pillows off the couch. But shit, why do we need fifteen of them? It seems excessive.
“Did you do this?” I ask the orange asshole. “Mommy’s not gonna be happy with you.” He just keeps meowing and pacing in circles. I shake my head and fix everything before going in search of my girl.
I look everywhere in the house and come up with nothing. I’m starting to get a little concerned. Heading back downstairs, I retrieve my phone and call her. A few seconds later, I hear ringing coming from inside her purse.
Shit, she doesn’t have her phone on her either.
I dial another number and this bad feeling creeps slowly up my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
“Hey,” Charlotte answers.
“Hey, is Lydia with you?” I’m sure it’s hard to miss the urgency in my voice.
“No,” she responds, sounding confused. “She drove home around two after we finished with lunch.”
&
nbsp; “Did she mention doing anything else other than coming home?” My heart drops to my stomach because I know the answer. She left everything here and her car is in the driveway. What could she be doing?
“No. She just said she was going home to wait for you. Why? What’s wrong?” Her concern now matches mine.
“She’s not here but all of her stuff is. Look, I gotta get off of here and make some calls.” Without waiting for her to respond, I hang up.
My heart hammers in my chest at the realization that something is very wrong. I dial my captain’s number and pace back and forth, my stomach clenching with each second that passes.
“Captain Schwartz,” he answers.
“Sir, it’s Riley. Lydia is missing and I need everyone you’ve got on this, stat.”
I’m not a fool and know better than most. With each minute that ticks by on a missing person case, the chances of finding them alive diminish.
“Woah, woah, clam down. What do you mean she’s missing?”
“I mean she’s not fucking here!”
“Have you tried calling her?” His questions are pissing me the fuck off.
“Of course. Her phone is sitting in her purse on my counter and her car is in the driveway. I just called her friend she was hanging out with and she said she left around two to come home. She text messaged me about thirty minutes after that too. This isn’t her going to the store and forgetting to tell me.”
The cat gets louder and continues to scratch at that damn door. The noise is enough to make me snap as I try to figure this shit out. I’m about to yell at him but stop when I look up. At the top of the door is a note.
I rush over to it and have to swallow the bile that rises up my throat as I read it.
I took the trash out for you.
XO
The room is spinning and it gets harder to pull in oxygen. I know that handwriting, and it’s not Lydia’s.
Calculated Risk Page 15
