Dangers of Love

by M. S. Parker

  “Aye, you do. If you need to talk more, just call.”

  “Thank you. I will.” I ended the call but didn’t move from where I was sitting.

  I was glad I’d called my brother and appreciated the advice he’d given me, but a part of me wished it could’ve been simpler. That he would’ve just told me what to do. Sometimes, following orders was easier than having to think for myself.

  Sixteen

  Aline

  By the time I arrived at the Café Gratitude, the crackers I’d eaten at Martina’s had calmed my stomach enough that the absolutely amazing smells made me hungry rather than nauseous, for which I was grateful. If I could eat and didn’t have to excuse myself to the restroom to throw up, my parents would think everything was okay.

  I’d actually arrived before them, which I thought would set a good tone, but I waited for them rather than choosing a table. Part of what I wanted to show them today was that we could have an adult relationship where we all respected each other and interacted with the same sort of politeness and consideration we would grant to any other ‘grown-up.’ Part of that, in my mind, was getting their opinion on where we should sit rather than choosing for them, especially since I was unsure if they would’ve done the same for me.

  I had to admit, I felt some satisfaction when I saw the surprise on their faces when they came inside and saw me.

  “Do we want an outside or indoor table?” I asked after giving both of them hugs.

  Once we settled at our indoor table, we made some small talk about the weather and the Christmas decorations here at the restaurant. While innocuous enough topics, I could still feel the tension between us.

  I didn’t like that the ease we’d once had was gone, but I knew that it hadn’t been real for a long time. The only reason we’d been able to function as well as we had was because I hadn’t been brave enough to face any of it, to rock the boat.

  Now, I had more than one reason to do a little rocking.

  Maybe a lot.

  Not that I intended to tell my parents that particular little bit. Some of my reluctance came from the memory of their disappointment when Freedom told them that I’d slept with Eoin. They would probably have the same sort of reaction to a pregnancy, and that would break my heart. But that wasn’t the main reason.

  The main reason was more complicated than that. Because of the problems my mother had carrying a baby to term and my own premature birth that had almost resulted in both of our deaths, my pregnancy would bring back the intense overprotectiveness that had followed the first couple days home after my kidnapping. That would suffocate me.

  Either one would damage our relationship even more, and both would destroy it.

  Besides, it was still only a possibility, which meant telling them might not even be necessary. Actually, it might’ve been worse to tell them and then turn around and tell them that I’d been wrong. Even though my mother loved both Freedom and me, I knew she still grieved each baby she’d lost. A false positive wouldn’t be the same, but it might trigger her memories of everything she’d gone through back then. No matter how pissed I might have been at them, I wouldn’t do that to either of them.

  “So, what have you been doing over at Martina’s place?” Mom asked. “Perusing possible employment opportunities in the area, or perhaps looking into continuing your education into the doctorate level?”

  I noticed she hadn’t mentioned me looking for jobs outside of L.A., but I didn’t bother addressing that. Picking at every single thing that annoyed me would be counterproductive. I needed to choose my battles.

  “Actually, I’ve been working part time at the boutique where Martina works. After what happened in Iran, I wanted something low-key while I decided what I wanted to do next.”

  I could almost read the thoughts as they moved across my parents’ faces. Surprise. Confusion. Exasperation.

  “Retail?” Mom wrinkled her nose as she said the word. “You have a master’s degree in elementary education, and you’ve chosen to work in retail?”

  “If money is an issue, it doesn’t have to be,” Dad said. “You can come home and be free to take your time finding the right place for you. Somewhere your education and talents will be appreciated.”

  How had my parents become such snobs? Was this something that had always existed in my family and I hadn’t noticed until now?

  “It’s not a money issue,” I said. My voice was a little stiff, but I thought that was pretty good considering everything I had going on right now. “Martina would never ask me to pay to stay with her.”

  I didn’t add that, even though she’d told me I didn’t need to, I’d given her money from my trust to help with utilities and show my appreciation for what she’d done. I had a feeling I’d earn a lecture with whatever information I shared. No need to stoke the fire.

  Mom really looked confused now. “Then why are you working at a store? Any school would be lucky to have you, and Stanford would accept you into their doctorate program if you didn’t feel ready to teach yet.”

  Apparently, I wasn’t going to get away with letting the matter be settled with the answers I’d given so far. I sighed, suddenly bone weary.

  “I would’ve thought you’d both be proud of me for working rather than sitting around doing nothing.” I looked at my father. “Your parents were hard-working blue-collar people, and you worked your way up to having your own business.” I turned to Mom. “You both have always been such hard workers. Why wouldn’t you want me to follow in your footsteps?”

  “We admire your work ethic,” Mom said, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “You’ve always worked so hard to get through school early and stay at the top of your class. We just don’t understand why you’ve chosen this particular job when you could do so much better.”

  “There is nothing wrong with working retail,” I said, my hand tightening around my fork. “Why are you being so condescending about it?”

  They both looked surprised, but I couldn’t tell if that was because they hadn’t realized how they’d sounded or if it was my speaking up about it that’d caught them off-guard.

  “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with retail work,” Mom said, sounding quite offended by the very idea. “But those are the types of jobs that…”

  The sentence trailed off, and she flushed.

  “The types of jobs that someone like me shouldn’t ‘need’ to take?” I asked quietly. “Why? Because I was fortunate enough to grow up in a household where money was never an issue? Because I was born with a high IQ that made it easy for me to learn? Because I have a college degree? You always taught me that everyone was unique but equal.”

  “You’re right.” Dad wrapped his hand around his glass but didn’t drink. “You’re absolutely right. Your mother and I raised you girls to treat everyone equally, and now we’re behaving as if you’re doing something beneath you.”

  I couldn’t keep the surprise off my face. Not only had he just admitted how they sounded now, but he’d admitted that they were wrong for it too. I could count on one hand the number of times either of them had acknowledged they were wrong, and it had never been for something like this.

  “We just want what’s best for you,” Mom said. “When you have children, you’ll understand.”

  My stomach twisted. That could be a lot closer than they knew.

  “It doesn’t make what we said right,” she continued. “But I hope you can see that our intentions were in the right place.”

  I was tempted to remind her of the common saying about the road to hell and good intentions, but I simply took the win and offered them some information as an expression of my gratitude. “I intend to look for substituting jobs for the second semester so that I can get a better idea of where I might like to look for more permanent work.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I would’ve appreciated Mom’s compliment more if she hadn’t sounded so surprised.

  “While I don’t need the money from
the job, I do like not having to use my trust fund for everything,” I continued. “I may want to get my doctorate one day, but it won’t be in the near future.”

  Especially if I was pregnant.

  “Freedom hasn’t said anything to us about her plans.”

  Dad was trying too hard to sound casual, which meant I could guess what would follow. I wasn’t wrong.

  “Has she said anything to you?”

  “She hasn’t.”

  Mom twisted her napkin between her fingers. “Have you talked to her at all?”

  “Yes. Yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

  “And?” Mom asked when I didn’t continue.

  “And it was a short but polite conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with why I don’t want to speak to her right now.” I finished my water and signaled to the waiter that I wanted a refill.

  “I hate seeing you girls fight,” Dad said. “Surely you can work it out. It can’t be worth ruining your relationship.”

  “I’m not going to ignore her for the rest of my life, but I’m not ready to talk to her right now.”

  “But with the holidays coming up…you must see how difficult it would be for the whole family.”

  I gritted my teeth at my mother’s not-so-subtle attempt at manipulation. “I’ll try to talk to her before Christmas.”

  “And you’ll come home for it?” Dad asked.

  I didn’t remind him that, technically, their house wasn’t my home. After all, I wasn’t even sure where home was for me, since the only place I’d ever lived beside my childhood home was the apartment I shared with Freedom, and I didn’t plan on going back there any time soon.

  “I’ll spend Christmas with you,” I agreed.

  I glanced at my phone and wondered if I could get away with excusing myself yet. I wasn’t working today, but I was exhausted, and a nap sounded like the best idea in the world. I couldn’t tell them that was what I wanted to do, though. They’d immediately ask if something was wrong, and no truthful answer would be a good one. Fortunately, I did have something that needed to be done, and it was something I could do and still take a nap.

  I didn’t think I’d ever been so pleased by the need to do laundry.

  Seventeen

  Eoin

  I’d probably taken longer than I should have to think about the situation, but it wasn’t like I’d had an uneventful two days. Still, I felt guilty that it had taken me a few hours to finally call her.

  When she didn’t answer, I left a voicemail, asking her to call me when she could because I wanted to talk to her. Then I’d called Cain to check in about work and to let him know that I was feeling better. He’d tried to talk me into taking Monday off too, but I’d reminded him that Christmas was next week, which would make for a short week, and Cain had given in. He’d added that if he didn’t think I was up to being there on Monday, he’d tell me to go home, and if I didn’t listen, he’d call my parents.

  At some point in time, I was going to call foul when someone threatened me with my parents, but this wasn’t the time to do it. I agreed to his terms.

  A quick glance at the time showed that it’d been an hour since I’d called Aline, and she hadn’t called me back. I couldn’t remember if she was working, and I didn’t want to bother her if that was the case, so I sent a text this time, basically saying the same thing I had in the voicemail, except I added an apology where I said that I knew I hadn’t had the best reaction to her news but that I’d just been shocked and now wanted to talk about it.

  Then I waited again, and there was still nothing. She hadn’t seemed angry when she’d left this morning, but maybe I’d just been completely clueless. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially when it came to this woman. But I did know that she wasn’t the sort of woman who kept quiet about things she didn’t agree with. Hell, she’d gotten into my face seconds after meeting me, and I’d been carrying serious firepower. Ghosting me wasn’t her style.

  Which was why I felt uneasy after twenty minutes had passed without any response from my text. It’d been more than an hour since my call too. If she’d gone to work, I liked to think that she would’ve at least told me that.

  Hell, even a fuck off would’ve been something.

  I called again with the same result. Voicemail. This time, though, I realized something I hadn’t noticed the last time. The call wasn’t sent to voicemail right away like it would have been if her phone had been off, and it didn’t only ring once or twice like it would’ve been if she’d been declining my calls.

  No, it had rung several times, as if it was going off, but she was ignoring it. The first time, she could’ve just walked away from it for a bit, but she would’ve seen the alert for my call and my voicemail. And then my text. And my second call.

  I stood and began to pace, anxiety and tension raising my pulse, tightening my muscles.

  Could she have forgotten her phone somewhere? It wasn’t here, but I assumed she’d gone back to the apartment, even if she’d had to go to work. Maybe she’d accidentally left it there.

  Except I couldn’t think of many people in their twenties who didn’t have their phones on them at all times.

  I called her again.

  Voicemail.

  My vision started narrowing. Pressure grew in my chest.

  Why wasn’t she answering?

  I sent another text, this one only two words: call me.

  Something had to be wrong. It was the only logical explanation.

  An image flashed in my mind. Leo looking up at me with dead eyes.

  “No,” I said out loud. “That’s not what happened.”

  Bart saying I should have saved him.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  Doto saying that I hadn’t saved Aline either. That she was dead, and it was all my fault…

  “No!” I slammed the palm of my hand down on the table, and the pain shocked me out of the flashback.

  I called her again.

  When she didn’t answer this time, I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just stay here and wait for her to call me back when all the signs were pointing me toward something bad keeping her from her phone.

  The baby.

  It hit me like a punch to the stomach. Aline had told me about her mother’s pregnancy issues, about how she and her mother had both almost died.

  I had to get to her.

  For several terrifying seconds, I couldn’t think, and then I knew where I needed to go.

  It was all I could do to walk to my car and not run. The entire way to the boutique, I reminded myself that speeding wouldn’t be in my best interest. If I got pulled over, it would just make things worse.

  I was torn between going to the boutique and going straight to the apartment, but I knew, logically, which was the best route to take. If Aline was at work, going to the apartment wouldn’t give me any answers, just make me more worried that something had happened inside, and I’d have no way in. If I went to the boutique and Aline wasn’t there, Martina could tell me where Aline was. And if something was wrong at the apartment, Martina could get us inside.

  Logic, however, didn’t make the drive any easier.

  Martina was near the door when I opened it, and she gave me a puzzled look. “Afternoon. Wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  “Aline’s not here?”

  Martina frowned. “No. I thought she was with you.”

  I shook my head. “We spent the night together, but she left this morning, and now I can’t get ahold of her.”

  “Wait a minute.” Martina held up a finger as something apparently occurred to her. “She had lunch plans with her parents. She’s probably still with them.”

  “At four o’clock?”

  The little relief I’d seen disappeared, and the frown came back. “Let me try her.”

  “Be my guest.” My words were a little sharp, but it made sense that she should try first. Maybe I’d been wrong, and Aline didn’t want to talk to me after all.


  Martina pulled out her phone and made the call. At each unanswered ring, the worry on her face grew. When she shoved the phone into her pocket, her expression was serious. She looked around the store and then called out, “Beckie! I need to run home. You got this covered?”

  A tall woman behind a rack of skimpy underwear gave a distracted wave without pausing in her conversation with a middle-aged woman holding a leather corset that was definitely not her size.

  Martina’s voice echoed in my head. “I need to get my keys. I’ll be right back.”

  Dark shadows edged my vision.

  Shit.

  While Martina hurried away, I began counting in my head, trying to drive back what was coming. I couldn’t help Aline if I was lost inside the past, and I couldn’t let another person down.

  Aline.

  She’d been the one thing that had been able to keep me grounded before.

  I built a picture of her in my mind, not just a physical one, but one that had her heart and her strength. Her stubbornness and fire. So many parts of her that annoyed me and turned me on at the same time.

  By the time Martina came back, I wasn’t great, but I was in control enough to drive us both to the apartment. Neither of us said anything, but I had no doubt that she was just as worried as I was, which actually made me more anxious. If someone who’d known Aline as long as Martina had thought my reasons for being concerned were valid, that meant I wasn’t just overreacting because of what’d happened to me this year.

  I barely held myself back when we reached her door, reminding myself that she had the key and that would get me to Aline faster…and not breaking the door would make it more likely that Martina would let me in her apartment again.

  She must have sensed my impatience because, as soon as she opened the door, she stepped out of the way and let me go in first. I heard her behind me as I quickly scanned the main room on my way to the guest room where Aline was staying. The curtains let in a crack of light that was enough for me to see Aline lying on the bed.