by Brill Harper
He cups her chin. “If you don’t think I was the biggest worrier every time I left Nash with a sitter, you don’t know me well enough yet. I was the worst.”
My heart pings at his name. But I’m getting better. Really I am.
Two hours later, I am tucking Danny into his toddler bed when he asks me why I don’t have any kids. Fifi settles in at the foot of his bed. She sleeps with him on the nights his mom has to work. Some sort of unspoken agreement between Danny and my dog.
I ruffle his hair. “Not everyone gets to be as lucky as your mom.”
If anyone else heard me stay that, they might think I am jealous because she had a child with my ex-husband and I didn’t. But Danny doesn’t know that backstory. He just knows I like him.
“You should have one. Then I’d have a new friend. You’d be a good mommy.”
“You think so?” I tuck his sheet around him tightly, the way he likes it. “Why is that?”
“You smell nice and you read good stories.”
I wonder if that’s all it really takes to be a good mom. I don’t really remember mine, but my grandmother also smelled nice and read good stories. I may not have grown up with the most traditional family, but they loved me. I could love someone like that. Now isn’t a great time, but someday, I could maybe adopt a child. “Get some rest, bug. Your mom told me we can have waffles in the morning.”
He frowns a little. “You’re not making them, are you?”
“No, of course not. Mommy made the rule, remember?”
He looks relieved. It was just a small fire, and in my defense, well, I have no defense. I’ve given up on cooking and promised Pauline I would stick to microwave soup and sandwiches.
I’m dozing on the couch when the door opens. I sit up and rub my eyes, surprised to see a man sneaking in. I blink a few times. No. It can’t be.
“Richard?”
Chapter Ten
Tru
HE’S LOST A LOT OF weight. Too much for his frame. And he’s got a beard. I don’t think he’s shaved or gotten a haircut since I last saw him. So unlike the meticulous man I married.
“Richard?” I repeat. That may be all I’m capable of right now. What is he doing here? I figured he’d be lazing around on an island somewhere collecting more wives and a tan.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, clearly just as stunned as I am. Of course, he was expecting wife number one, not wife number two. “Where’s Pauline? What have you done with her?”
My nerves are jumping on the trampoline of my stomach right now. I don’t know that I could have prepared myself to see him, but being surprised by seeing him is a cruel twist of fate. “Pauline isn’t here. And if she were, she would not want to see you.”
He pushes past me, barging in and looking around the room. “Is she all right?”
“Do you think I hurt her?” His bloodshot eyes dart around. Is he on drugs now too? “I see. You think a woman scorned and all that. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I actually like Pauline more than I liked you. We’re roommates.”
“Roommates?” He shakes his head. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this. Where is she? Where’s my son?”
Now that the shock is wearing off, I’m remembering what a flea he is. “Whatever? Are you even serious right now? That’s what you have to say to me? Not, ‘I’m sorry I stole your inheritance, Tru?’ Not, ‘I feel really bad that I was still married to someone else when I tricked you into marrying me, Tru?’ Not, ‘I’m the worst kind of human for pretending to care about your grandfather?”
He scratches his beard roughly. Maybe he really does have fleas. “I honestly cared about your grandfather. He was a good man.”
“And yet you deceived him and stole his money while his corpse was still warm.”
I’ve probably imagined this moment a thousand times. All the things I would say, finally, after he robbed me of closure. And all my money. I had a million zingers lined up. And boy was I ever going to slap his face, soap-opera style.
And now that he’s here, all I want is for him to go away and leave us alone. He isn’t sorry. He won’t ever be sorry. And he never even cared for me a little. He hasn’t even asked if I’m all right.
“Where’s my son?”
Those trampoline jumping nerves skate up to the back of my neck, my instincts sharpen, and I start trying to remember where I set my phone. This is no longer about me. He’s not a good man when he’s being himself, and right now, Richard is unhinged. I can’t let him get anywhere near little Danny.
“He’s with Pauline.”
He stares into my eyes, narrowing them to slits while he tries to decide his next move. “I’ll wait.”
“I don’t think so. I want you to leave.”
He grabs my wrist. “Don’t make me do something neither of us want me to do. I want my son. I’m not leaving here without him. If you try to get in my way, I’ll stop you. Any way I have to.”
“You’re hurting me, Richard. Let go,” I tell him calmly, but my heart is beating too fast. He drops my wrist, but doesn’t back away. The last thing I need is for him to lose it. “You don’t look well, Richard. When was the last time you ate?” I ask, feigning concern.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Yesterday.”
“If you won’t leave, at least sit down. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
He sits on the couch, watching me warily. I’m not completely hidden from view in the kitchen, since it’s all open concept in the apartment, but I swipe my phone and dial 911 while gathering sandwich supplies.
I can’t talk to the operator, but I hope that keeping them on the line is the best solution. “How did you even find us, Richard?” I ask, hoping the phone is picking up my voice. “Pauline said she moved so you wouldn’t know where she lived? And the Terrace Court Apartment Complex is a secure building.”
I know they can’t hear him. But I hope they are at least trying. “She can’t keep my son from me.”
“But you’re a wanted criminal now. What will you do with a four-year-old boy?”
“He’s my son. She’s my wife. We belong together.”
Bastard. I bet he just needs the money back that he gave her before he left. He’s obviously lost the rest of it somehow. Still, the thought of him on the run with little Danny makes my hands shake. I try to control that when I hand him his plate.
“How did you even become friends?” he asks me, smelling the bread for poison. Damn. Why didn’t I think of poison?
“She found me. She wanted me to know she didn’t know about me, either. When you married me.”
Danny starts talking in his sleep, loud enough for his voice to carry into the living room and Richard stands up and starts for his bedroom door. “You lying bitch.”
I race in the same direction, getting in front of him and shoving as hard as I can. I hear Fifi growling on the other side of the door. I hope she doesn’t wake up Danny. I don’t want him to be scared, and his dad looks anything but safe right now. “You are not taking Danny.”
“What do you care, Tru?”
“I love that little boy. And I love Pauline. And you are done wrecking our lives.”
He smiles. How had I not noticed he was missing a tooth? A life on the run has not been a picnic for the flea. Good. “You’ve changed. Not enough. What a boring little twat you were.”
He tries to push past me, but I’m done being passive. I grab him and headbutt him, hearing a satisfying crack and hoping it wasn’t my skull, then I knee him in the balls. He drops instantly, moaning. “Pauline and I started a self-defense class at the gym once a week, asshole.” I kick him in the stomach. “Also, you have a tiny penis and don’t know what a clitoris is.”
I scrabble over him to get to the phone just as the door opens and Brandon and Pauline come in. Pauline’s eyes widen and Brandon strides across the room.
“Is that Richard?” she asks.
I nod. The police are at the door before I can tell her everything, and after, getting
Brandon to leave would take an act of God, so we put him on the couch and I go to bed.
Not ten minutes later, Pauline knocks and comes in with two glasses and a box of wine. “I’m too wired to sleep.” She sets the box on my dresser and pours our glasses. “I’m so glad you made sure that ‘you have a tiny penis and don’t know what a clitoris is’ made it into the police report.”
I grin, welcoming her onto my bed where we sit cross-legged and drink our very classy vintage. “I’m hoping it gets read aloud at his hearing.”
“I can’t believe he found us...that he even looked for us. I thought he was long gone.”
“He looked terrible, didn’t he?”
“I can’t believe I married him.”
“I can’t believe I married him, either.”
We both laugh at that. If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be laughing about being married to a bigamist with my sister wife after having taken him down with a headbutt and knee to the groin, I’d have laughed all the way back to my penthouse.
Alone. Lonely. With only Fifi to hear the tale.
My life is actually so much better. Almost. I’m so grateful to have Pauline and Danny in my life, but I miss Nash.
Don’t go there.
As many times as I imagined finally telling Richard off, it’s nothing compared to the millions of times a day I think of Nash. Of course, he stars in all my sexual fantasies, but I find myself wishing I could tell him things about my day all the time. Wishing I could hear his voice, be danced around the room by him, work side by side with him. And then I remember the last time I saw him and know that I could never work side by side with him and watch him move on with his life with a front row seat.
Pauline bumps my knee, dragging me out of my sad, sad spiral. “Seriously, though. Thank you for protecting my son.” She grabs my hand and squeezes. “I can never repay you.”
“You and Danny are my family now.”
“Well, you’re ours too. But you know, we aren’t the only ones who love you. Brandon says everyone in Brazen Bay misses you.”
I shrug. “It was a great town. But not for me.” Except for the fact that I loved everything about it.
She studies me over the rim of her glass. “Brandon thinks of you like a daughter. Which is weird since I think of you as a sister and I’m dating him.”
“Brandon is great. How did the date go?”
“Wonderful. Don’t change the subject.”
“I thought we were talking about Brandon?”
“You know perfectly well we were not talking about Brandon. When are you going to call Nash?”
I down my glass. “I’m not going to call Nash.”
“He never went out with that woman.”
I send her a sharp look. “It’s not my business who he dates or doesn’t date.”
“He gave her his number in the bar that night because she sells memorabilia and had one of his dad’s guitars from a show they did at the Viper Room. He finally told Stella the truth that he wanted to make you jealous, so he didn’t deny—”
“It really doesn’t matter. That woman isn’t going to be the last to get his phone number. He didn’t want to care about me, and I can’t watch him date other people.”
“Did you ever tell him that you changed your mind and you want to care about him? Because last I heard, he didn’t know.”
Technically, the last conversation we had was about how easy it was going to be for us to get over each other. “It doesn’t matter, Pauline. I need to learn how to survive without a man.”
“Oh, but honey, men are so much fun.” She gets up for more wine, offering to take my glass, but I shake my head. “Nash loves you. He’s miserable without you.”
“Oh, did he admit that to Stella also?”
“No. But everyone knows it.”
Right.
I yawn, exaggerating the stretch that goes with it. “I’m really tired. Taking down a fleabag was a lot of work.”
Pauline sighs. “I get it. I get it.” She pauses by the door. “Do you love him?”
“The fleabag?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Nash. “Maybe. Probably. Yes. But it doesn’t change anything.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll dissect my date tomorrow, yeah?”
I smile, my heart warmed over by the happy look in her eye. “I can’t wait.”
MONDAY MORNING, PAULINE and I are sitting on the bench behind the prosecuting attorney’s table at the courthouse waiting for Richard’s arraignment. We squeeze each other’s hand when they bring him in wearing prison sweats and handcuffs.
This is just one step. What happens today only determines whether or not he’ll wait for trial in a cell or if they will release him, ensuring he’ll run again.
Someone sits at the end of our row and it looks like...Perry? I turn and notice that several rows are filled with familiar faces. Stella, Brandon, Leo, Dixie, even Stella’s sister, Megan, is here. I look over my other shoulder and catch Nash’s gaze. He gives me an encouraging nod and I’m flooded with warmth.
“They came,” I whisper to Pauline. I’ve felt so blessed just to have Pauline and Danny stick with me that it never occurred to me that the people I met in Brazen Bay would be here for us too.
She turns and waves when she sees Brandon. “Wow. I’ve only been to that town three times. They’re here for you, honey.”
“You’re dating the town’s lead singer, who is crazy about you. I’m guessing they’re here for you too.”
The judge comes in, we all rise, and then I pray that they don’t let him out. He’ll run away and he might still try to get Danny. He’s got nothing to lose now. Which is why I’m shocked when he pleads guilty.
The whole thing is over and done with so fast I can barely process it. They take him back to the county jail, and I sit there blinking. “C’mon,” Pauline nudges. “They’re going to call the next case and I don’t want to get stuck here.”
We filter out into the hall, Pauline gravitating to Brandon right away. I turn toward the steps to see Nash coming down. He stops right where he is, one foot still on the bottom step. For a moment, we just stare at each other in this strange instant of time slowing down. His mouth curves around a slow smile, and my stomach tumbles the way it always does around him.
“Wow,” Dixie says, somehow sneaking up by my side, snapping my awareness back to the present. “That woman sure knows how to wear a dress.”
She’s looking at Pauline in the blue dress that molds against her curves, but shows very little skin for Pauline. “Yes, that’s her demure courtroom dress. I talked her out of red.”
Dixie hugs me. “How are you?”
“Better today. How are the wedding plans?”
“Oh my gosh. Please don’t ask. Megan is here and if you get her started...anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were coming on Friday. We’re having a very small, informal engagement party at Ironwing.”
“I thought that was next week.”
“Nope. This Friday. Promise me you’ll come.”
I turn to the stairs, but Nash isn’t there. “It might be weird. I don’t want to make your party awkward.”
“You have to promise me you’ll come. Almost everyone there is a Brazen Bay native. I need your support.”
“I’ll try.”
“You promise.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
She hugs me again. “I’m glad your ex is stuck behind bars. I’ll see you Friday.”
I get hugs and well wishes from everyone, as well as admonishments to show up on Friday, so I guess I’m going to get closure on more than just the flea this week.
Chapter Eleven
Nash
IRONWING IS AWFULLY dead for a Friday.
Is it a holiday I don’t know about? Something catches my notice outside and it’s...a woman pacing the sidewalk outside the bar again.
Tru? I want to know what she’s doing, but I also just want to watch her for a minute
. I didn’t get my fill of looking at her on Monday, and seeing her here, in Brazen Bay, in front of Ironwing, makes my nerves hum.
I rub my now sweaty palms on my jeans and open the door. “Are you protesting something? I knew I should have made a sandwich board for you that day.”
A flush creeps into her cheeks. She’s so pretty it’s impossible to be real. “I’m working up my nerve.”
“And how is that going?”
“Not great.”
“You look great, Gertrude. Really, you look amazing.”
She moistens her lips and darts a shy sideways glance at me. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to the arraignment. It meant a lot to see you there.”
My hands are itching to hold her. Grab her. Maybe throw her over my shoulder and bring her home where she belongs. But just because I’ve figured out what I want, what I need, doesn’t mean I get to have it.
“Are you coming in?”
“Is everyone already in there?”
“Everyone?” That’s when I see the sign on the door reading Closed for private party. It all becomes a little more clear to me. Why Stella was standing in front of the door earlier right after my dad walked out. The whispers. Damn meddling town.
Tru steps into the dark, quiet pub. “I don’t understand. Dixie told me the party was tonight. Pauline told me she’d catch up with me. Did they...they set us up?”
“Looks like it.” I spend about five minutes asking her inane questions just to keep her here. Keep her talking. When she asks me how my baseball team is doing, I know we’ve taken small talk too far.
“I should go.”
“No, wait. I, ah, I need your help with something.”
“All right.”
“I need your help planning an engagement party.”
I’ve seen that face. It’s the one she uses when she’s trying to do math in her head. “I thought Megan was planning Dixie and Leo’s party.”
“She is. I need your help with a different one.”
“Nash, you hated all the events I planned.”
“I never meant to make you feel like that. The truth is the bar was better when you were here. I’ve been doing a lot of the things you wrote on the business plan you left. They’re solid.”