by Skye Warren
“I’m not sure,” he said. “You can ask her.”
He handed me the phone, paying me back twofold for my little tease. Damn.
Not really having a choice, I took the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Allie. This is Rose.”
My eyes flew to Colin’s, but I said, “Oh. Hi there.”
“Listen. I wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time when we met. And I was hoping you’d all come over for dinner. Bailey too.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it. How could I get out of this? It wasn’t a rhetorical question. My eyes beseeched Colin. He shrugged. Useless, stubborn man.
“I’d love to,” I said.
She laughed. “It won’t be that bad. I promise.”
I didn’t quite believe her, but it didn’t matter. “I’ll be fine.” Pray that it was true.
“Okay,” she said. “You’ll see. How about next Saturday night at seven?”
“Sure. Sounds great.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Oh, and I’ll host it at Philip’s. You’ve already been there, and it encourages him to come if we have it in his house.” She laughed. “See you there.”
“Bye,” I choked out.
“She wants to have dinner,” I told Colin.
He nodded slowly.
“At Philip’s house,” I said.
He gave me a sympathetic grimace.
I suppose that was the best I could hope for. Perhaps this “meet the family” would go better than the first time around, but it could hardly be worse. My issues with Philip were mostly over now that Andrew was out of the picture. And besides, I doubted he would spend much time talking to me, judging by last time. Rose had apologized and offered this dinner as an olive branch, if I’d understood correctly. Maybe it was even a sort of welcome.
It wouldn’t exactly be fun, but this was part of a real relationship. A family dinner, I mused. It was almost quaint in its normalcy.
I narrowed my eyes at Colin. “If I’m going to deal with all that,” I said, “you’d better put out.”
He gave me a small, mysterious smile before he took a bite of his pancakes.
Chapter Fourteen
The week that followed was a honeymoon of sorts…if you subtracted wedding vows and an exotic locale and added a toddler. But then I’d always done things ass backward.
Colin took us to Navy Pier, where we visited the children’s museum and gorged ourselves on corn dogs and ice cream. A fearless Bailey demanded we ride the giant Ferris wheel, and Colin indulged her. Only after the pair emerged from the cab covered in upchucked corn dog did he admit that perhaps I’d been right after all. We visited the aquarium, where Bailey squealed as she touched a prickly starfish and dragged us all to the splash zone. Colin even got us tickets to a community theater production of Mary Poppins, though we discovered Bailey preferred to sing her own soundtrack and left at intermission.
It was amazing. Really, it was. If I felt an undercurrent of frantic energy, then it was just relief at my newfound freedom. And if it seemed that Colin was desperate to experience everything, to give us everything we wanted, it was just due to the newness of our happiness. It had to be.
Philip called constantly. At first Colin would answer, excusing himself to speak in tense, hushed tones. After a while he turned his phone off.
“Will it be okay?” I didn’t know how much we really relied on Philip, especially financially. “I know you do work for him…”
“Don’t worry,” Colin said. “He’ll get over it.”
When I looked at him for more, he ran his thumb along my lips. A tender shut up.
That eased my worry—somewhat. It seemed we could get along just fine without Philip, but if there was major damage to their sibling relationship, Colin might regret his time with me.
The dinner party was still set for tomorrow, so we’d see then just how angry Philip was. I doubted he took well to being ignored.
I’d offered to make a dessert to bring with us. Colin suggested wine, but I thought dessert would be more personal. Make it clear I was willing to put in an effort. Besides, that way Rose wouldn’t have to worry about making it. Colin had chuckled at me then, but he’d agreed to text Rose and let her know.
I pulled the packages of fresh strawberries from the paper grocery bag. Since we’d witnessed the first tendrils of spring, I’d decided on a strawberry-rhubarb crumble.
From her high chair Bailey chomped on a bowl of diced strawberries while I went to work on the rest. A knock on the door stopped me midchop.
I peeked out the window beside the door and saw a short, wide person standing there. I unlatched the chain, flipped the dead bolt, and opened the door a foot. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi.” The woman wore an overlarge white shirt with a picture of a kitten on it and tight, black leggings. Her hair was in disarray, a mop of ringlets, and her face crinkly. Despite all that she managed to look fresh and bright, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling merrily like some ginger-haired Mrs. Claus. “I’m looking for Mouse, my cat Mouse. I haven’t seen him in…oh, it’s been a full day now, and—”
She paused when I opened the door wider to reveal the orange cat sprawled on our ottoman.
“Mouse,” she cried. “You horrible cat, look at you, making yourself right at home.”
Ah, so Mouse had a home, and it wasn’t here. That couldn’t be disappointment. I had no desire to keep a cat, and definitely not this one, so presumptuous and rotund. Not very mousy, either. Well, I told myself, thank God for that. To the woman I said, “He just started coming around, so—”
“Of course,” she said. “You wouldn’t know he was ours, what with us being so new here. I haven’t even had time to come around and say hello to you guys. Oh! What am I saying? I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Linda. What was your name, dear?”
“Allie,” I said quickly, feeling like I’d been sent to the nurse’s office. Not that she was examining me or sending me home or anything, just that was the last time a woman had really spoken to me.
“Allie,” she said. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? I hope you don’t think I was too rude, just moving in and not saying a word, and then coming around to find my cat on your furniture. He knows better than that. You know better than that, Mousy! That’s what cat trees are for.”
She paused for breath, watching me expectantly.
“No, it’s not rude at all. I just…actually I’m new here too.”
“Are you? Well, that’s great! We can get settled in together. It’s a very nice neighborhood, don’t you think? Yes, very quiet. No bad happenings go on, that sort of thing. Did you know? At my last house the person across the street from me rode a motorcycle.”
I paused, unable to come up with a suitable reply to that. I liked things quiet too, but if ever Colin or I brought trouble to the neighborhood, it would be a lot messier than a motorcycle.
“Well, don’t worry your young head about that,” she said. “This is a nice, safe place. And you have a man to watch after you. Yes, that’s right, I’ve seen him coming and going. And what a man, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
I shook my head, but she spoke before I could.
“Yes, he looks very strong, which is always good in a man, I should think. My William was strong too, don’t you know? Well, until the very end, bless his heart. Thirty-two years, it was. Now tell me, how long have you been married?”
She tilted her head at me, her eyes bright with expectation. Motherfucking hell.
Lies ran through my head, as stupid as that would be. Of course she’d find out, and what was the point of that? I couldn’t be ashamed of this. I’d done a lot worse in my life than live with a man who wasn’t my husband.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We aren’t married.”
“Oh.” Now it was her turn to gape like a fish. To her credit she recovered quickly. “You know, that is okay. Don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I know how young people carry on these days
.”
I had a strong suspicion she had no fucking clue how young people carried on these days, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
A squawk from the kitchen knocked me from my daze, and I rushed in with Linda on my heels. Bailey just squealed and kicked, eager to join the conversation. Linda blinked a few times, and then must have decided this was all part of the carrying on.
“Oh, you pretty girl,” she exclaimed to Bailey. “And what is your name?”
Somewhat awkwardly, as if I were interrupting the conversation, I said, “Her name’s Bailey.”
Linda didn’t miss a beat. “Bailey! Beautiful Bailey, is that what they call you? Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are.”
Bailey preened.
“You sweet thing. You pretty girl,” Linda cooed.
Bailey offered up a smooshed strawberry chunk atop a chubby palm. I rolled my eyes. The girl sure knew how to work an audience.
“Oh, thank you. Yes, thank you.” Linda accepted the strawberry chunk and held it behind her, where I slipped it from her hand and into the trash can. We grown-ups had to stick together.
Linda turned to me. “Listen, sweetie. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to run. But you know you can come and stop by anytime. I’m a great listener, you know, if you’re ever having problems. Not that you would. You’re such a dear. I’ll see you around.”
As she went through the living room she picked up Mouse, whose long, thick body hung like a pendulum from where she’d clasped him to her chest. And then she was gone through the front door in a whoosh of bouncing auburn-gray curls and fresh air.
“Wow,” I said to Bailey. “That was new.”
“Baba?” She offered me another strawberry bit in her palm, which I accepted and plopped in my mouth.
“Thanks,” I told her, “but I’m much harder to impress. Poop in the potty; then we’ll talk.”
I wiped the red strawberry film off a sleepy baby and carted her upstairs. She drifted off to sleep after the fourteenth verse of “Hush, Little Baby.” And thank goodness too. I’d already promised to buy her a tutu, a tricycle, and a host of other things well beyond her pay grade. Not that Colin would mind. He’d probably buy her a castle if she crooked her pudgy little finger at it.
I shook my head. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand about spoiling her. He wanted to spoil her. It was like some little-boy-lost redemption drama playing out in our own home. The worst thing was that I was probably part of it. Somehow his white-knight radar had settled on the two of us. We made a quaint picture, this family, and I only hoped it would last. However it had started, on a whim or just an accident of fate, I liked to think we’d built something real by now.
Things were good, very good.
Chapter Fifteen
Back downstairs, I prepped the strawberry-rhubarb filling and crumble topping and set it to bake. Then I pulled the clothes from the dryer and into the basket, the warm scent of spring filling the laundry room. A shuffle behind me caught my attention, but before I could turn, I was spun around and slammed into the wall. Struggling to gasp for air, I saw the sneering face of a cop. One of the cops who’d come around earlier, poking around about Colin. Shay, Shat, Shaw—that was it. Detective Fucking Shaw, the asshole.
How did he get in? The front door. I probably hadn’t locked it after Linda left. Too damned complacent. Should’ve known better.
“Hi, Allie.” He smiled an ugly smile.
“Where’s your partner?” I gasped. Despite his quiet intensity, I’d trusted the other guy much more.
“Oh, just on a break,” he said. My mind flashed to Bailey sleeping upstairs, and I prayed she kept sleeping. “Thought we’d just have a little talk, you and me.” He waved a manila folder that I hadn’t noticed before in my face. “Take a look.”
Hesitantly I accepted the folder from his hands.
A picture of Rick leaving, swinging loading doors behind him. The next one was me pushing Bailey through that same door in an overfull grocery cart, glancing behind me. The last picture was me and Andrew sitting across from each other, the broken blinds of the diner window behind us.
My mind latched onto inane details first. How had they even known about these meetings? I suppose they were following me. Where had the photographer been sitting in the diner? From that angle it looked to be a booth across the restaurant. Maybe a cell phone camera, although I’d been so wrapped up in the conversation, I probably wouldn’t have noticed full-fledged paparazzi.
But none of that mattered, because it was clear what these were—leverage. They’d wanted information on Colin and Philip, and I’d refused. Now he was back, bringing pictures that threatened to tear Colin and me apart.
“That’s right,” he said, nodding approvingly like I’d done a neat trick. “Your little sugar daddy wouldn’t be too pleased to see these, would he? Doesn’t allow you to sleep around, does he?”
It didn’t matter that Colin meant so much more to me than a sugar daddy; that actually made it worse. And it didn’t matter that I hadn’t slept with these guys; if Colin saw them, he would be extremely and rightfully pissed. I damned myself a million times for not telling him. Rather, for not telling him again, when he was sober and awake. And still I thought I should do just that. I had some hope that it wouldn’t mean the end of us. Maybe he could understand why I’d had to meet Andrew and why I’d kept it from him. It was worth a shot and definitely better than whoring for this guy.
He must have taken my silence for acquiescence. “I need information on shipping routes,” he said. “Only Philip Murphy will have that, understand? I need you to get close to him and give me the dates and locations of the drops, see?”
I handed the pictures back. “No.”
“Now, now, don’t be stupid. I could have you written up for conspiracy, drug trafficking, anything I fucking want. Hell, I could even say you propositioned me and arrest you for prostitution.”
He leaned close. There was nowhere to go. “Who would take care of your little girl, then?” he asked.
I shut my eyes against the wash of rancid breath. Oh fuck, oh fuck, that wasn’t helping. I needed to fucking think. What could I do? I wasn’t sure if he was right, but it sounded pretty convincing, and I really didn’t want to test it out. If I got arrested, Bailey would go into the system. They wouldn’t grant custody to Shelly or Colin, either, but put her in a group home. Or worse, give her to some stranger who might do God knows what with her. Fuck. Even Andrew would have been better than that, but he’d already signed away any legal claim to her.
I felt a hand on my neck, and I stopped breathing. I held it even as that hand traveled lower.
“I just want to help you,” he whispered.
No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Not again.
It didn’t seem possible, and I held on to that thought. If this wasn’t happening…fuck, let this not be happening. Both his hands touched me. There, on my breasts, and down lower, to my jeans. Just over my clothes, the thick barrier of my jeans, but it was enough.
I felt like I was underwater, hearing and feeling everything through deep waters. Maybe it was better this way.
He touched me for an eternity, or maybe just a few minutes, before he stopped. I didn’t know why he stopped. In that objective sort of detachment, my mind wondered at it. What made a bad man stop when he could go further? Was it just that this left no marks, no bruises, or fluids or anything else, and so made it easy to get away with?
He muttered into my ear, “I know about the little Murphy family dinner. Get me what I need, and you’ll be free.”
Then he was away from me, though my eyes were strangely fuzzy. The slam of the door and boot steps down the stairs signaled his retreat, if I could call it that. More like a victory dance, I thought. Tires squealed from the front of the house as he drove away.
I slid to the ground.
What a lie. I’d never be free.
I would have lost it completely, right then. It was close, ho
vering right there on the precipice. Even in my breakdown I was practical. Even broken and insane with my private grief, I loved Bailey. So I crawled across the floor to the phone on the side table.
I heard Shelly’s voice. “Hello?”
“Can you come?” I heard myself ask in a hoarse voice.
“Allie? What’s wrong? Allie! Okay, I’m coming over,” and then a click. It was good to have a friend.
A shout and rattle of the baby gate told me Bailey was up. I was a mother first. No rest for the wicked. I dragged myself up the stairs, brought her down, and plopped her in front of the television. I figured impending mental collapse was as good of an excuse as any for bad parenting.
I curled up on the couch, watching the dancing letters. Sanity slid away like a balloon lost at a carnival. I felt its loss with relief.
“Allie? What happened?” Shelly’s voice, garbled and distant. She was still above the surface, but I was down, down, down. Thank God she was here, I thought, someone to watch over Bailey. Because down here it was black.
The doctors and nurses left, leaving only the two cops on either side of my hospital bed. The woman cop shifted on her feet, very pregnant.
“Go on down,” the man told her. “I’ll wrap up and meet you there.”
She bit her lip, deliberating. She probably didn’t want to appear weak, like she wasn’t holding her weight against a man. Then again, she looked very uncomfortable. That appeared to win out, because she nodded and said, “I’ll see you in the cafeteria.”
“You’ll be okay,” she said, squeezing my hand. “It wasn’t your fault.” Practiced words, probably recited to all the rape victims, but they warmed me. Maybe there was hope.
After she left the room, the man took off his jacket and draped it across the foot of the bed. He questioned me, scribbling my answers on a notepad.
Yes, I knew my assailant. We’d been friends.
No, I hadn’t had sex with him before. Not with anyone.
Yes, I told him no. I’m sure he heard me.
The cop had just been a person-shaped blob to me in that room full of people. But he’d come closer to the bed, and only then did I notice his eyes were green. Green eyes, so rare. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen them before in real life. At least not ones so brilliant, so bright. The green eyes were narrowed.
