by Stella Noir
I rebuked them all, but I couldn’t have done so without the help of my driver, who protected me at all times.
The strange thing was I hadn’t heard from my mother-in-law, a fact I was grateful for, as much as it worried me that she hadn’t tried to reach me.
I come back to the present and pick up the phone, my fingers trembling lightly, still hoping to hear Dylan’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” I ask softly, hoping, praying for Dylan’s greeting, which doesn’t come.
“Hello, Mrs. Roberts,” a familiar voice greets me, yet it is not the one I was hoping for, so I sigh softly, hoping the man on the other line cannot hear me. Unfortunately, he does.
“Not who you wanted to talk to?” he asks, and I detect a tone of disappointment in his voice. But more than that, there’s curiosity.
“Not at all,” I say smoothly, pretending like it isn’t true at all. “How can I help you, Detective Andrews?”
“I was wondering if you were busy today,” he gets right to the point. “I wanted to talk to you about some additional details of the case, if you can spare an hour or two?”
I think of the day ahead of me, full of lying on the couch, cuddling the dog and doing nothing at all. It might do me a world of good to venture outside, get some sun.
“Okay,” I say. “I can walk to the precinct.”
It’s only a mile or so away, and I cut the connection after I speak the last sentence, and then start to get ready for my outing.
I take effort in getting dressed for the first time in weeks, picking out a pretty pastel pink A-line dress that accentuates my waistline and chest. I add a trench coat on top and finish with nude pumps. I look like nothing is wrong, and it looks disturbing for some reason.
I scrap the whole outfit, deciding again for monochrome tones with a pencil skirt, white blouse with a bow and a Chanel tweed jacket. I even contemplate a strand of pearls, but decide I look too much like my mother-in-law and end up deciding against it.
My hair is soft and voluminous, falling down my shoulders in pretty waves. I decide I like the way I look today, and I’m allowed to feel good about simple things, like the way I look.
The show must go on.
I close the door behind me and am met with a barrage of cameras flashing in my face. I pull out my sunglasses and place them on my face, rethinking whether my ‘walk’ was a good idea.
“Nice day for a walk,” someone says jokingly and I turn around to see Detective Andrews.
“I said I’d meet you there,” I say with a small frown, and he shrugs, moving away from the walls of the house. He looks different today, dressed in a pea coat and casual jeans plus a t-shirt, as opposed to his usual stiff uniform.
The relaxed look looks good on him.
“Decided to walk with you,” he says simply, motioning towards the piranhas with his head. “Thought you might need some protection from those vultures.”
I realize he’s right and don’t attempt to question his reasoning, instead nodding curtly. He takes my elbow and leads me away from the house firmly, but gently.
We manage to get past all of the media and I’ve kept my mouth shut just like I’ve been taught. I almost manage to do it, until an annoying redhead gets right up under my nose.
“Who’s the mystery man, Lola?” she spits venom at me. “A new guy already? Your husband’s corpse isn’t even cold yet!”
I have to gather all the strength in my bones so as not to slap her. Instead, I face her, pulling off my sunglasses and giving her the iciest look I can manage.
“This is Detective Andrews, who is leading the murder case,” I explain. “Why don’t you do a little research before you attack me? Oh, you’re probably only doing this job because you don’t know how to do anything else.”
I smile coldly at her and place my sunglasses back on my face, reveling in her shocked and hurt expression.
“Sucks for you,” I add in a syrupy sweet voice, leaving everyone surprised as Andrews leads me away. Everyone is so shocked they don’t even follow us.
“Bit harsh,” he scolds me when we’re a few feet away.
“She deserved it, damn vulture,” I say angrily, pleased with what I’ve done, but surprised by the fact I’ve become this person …
*
We’ve been walking for a while when I realize we’ve passed the police precinct and I look at Andrews questioningly. “Are we not going to the station?” I ask doubtfully.
“I thought we’d grab lunch, if you don’t mind,” he says. “I saw how uncomfortable you were last time at the station and wanted to spare you that.”
I look at him strangely, but nonetheless thankful for his kindness. “Is that allowed?” I tease him, smiling softly as he returns the motion.
“Gotta break a few rules,” he says, muttering something else under his breath that I can barely make out. “Especially for the right lady.”
I look at him out of the corner of my eye, unsure whether I heard that right. I decide to keep my mouth shut in case I misheard, but as he leads me into a local – and a very expensive – Italian restaurant, I feel a little strange about the whole thing.
We order our food with him choosing Ossubuco and me going for Gnocchi alla Quattro Formaggi. As we wait for our food, I tear off a chunk of rich olive bread and chew it slowly, to alleviate the tension.
“Why are we really here?” I ask suspiciously.
Andrews looks at me thoughtfully. “You always talk with your mouth full?” he asks, a smirk playing on his face.
“Only when I’m trying to annoy people,” I say with a smile, my mouth still full.
“Maybe you should skip it on dates,” are his next words and I nearly choke on my piece of bread. When I recover after a long coughing fit, we’re both flushed and embarrassed, but I’m not about to let the subject go just yet.
“So is that what this is?” I ask hesitantly, meeting his eye for a split second.
And as soon as I see the gaze in his eyes, I can tell that yes, he intended to take me out on a date, as badly disguised as it was.
He doesn’t answer, but returns my stare with a smirk on his face.
“You’re breaking a lot of rules now,” I warn him cheekily, and he laughs.
In the next moment, I realize what I’m doing.
It’s weeks after my husband has been killed, and in that short time, I’ve managed to realize I still have feelings for an old flame – whom I also kissed – and go on a date with a complete stranger. I feel like a traitor and my face falls.
Andrews reaches for my hand across the table, but instead of the gesture being romantic, it feels more soothing, comforting. “It’s not your fault he’s gone,” he tells me, trying to bring me back to the present.
I just shake my head, too weak to respond; though we both know I am, and always will be, blaming myself. The poison was meant for me, after all …
An awkward silence descends upon us, which is thankfully interrupted by the waiter bringing us food. But not even the delicious aroma of my gnocchi can make me take a bite, and after fiddling with my food for a long time, I push away my plate, feeling defeated.
“I’m sorry,” Andrews says, frowning. “I shouldn’t have done this to you. You’re uncomfortable as it is, and I’m only making it all worse …”
I sigh heavily, semi-agreeing with him. He definitely should have asked me if I was ready to first, not done this … But at the same time, his sneaking around and wanting to be around me, despite his job forbidding him from it, seems sweet.
“It’s okay,” I try to console him, and even manage a small smile. “I just lost my appetite, is all.” I shrug and notice he ate most of his food at the same time.
He motions to the waiter for the check and insists on paying, though I’m sure we both know who the loaded one is in the couple.
We stand up to leave and he gets my jacket for me, ever the gentleman. He opens doors, walks me out, and protects me from the stares of onlookers,
too. I feel bad for judging him and soon realize he really must feel something for me.
Whether it’s just a bodily attraction or something deeper … I guess only time will tell.
We walk in companionable silence and I soon realize we’re heading back towards my house, and I stop in my tracks, looking at him hesitantly.
“What is it?” he asks, stopping, looking around like someone’s about to assassinate me on the spot, which makes me giggle. “What?” he repeats nervously.
“I was just wondering if you’d like to take the scenic route,” I smile softly. “There’s a street on the way to my home that blooms this time of the year, and I’d like to see the trees. We can walk by the river, if you’d like.”
His expression softens, but then he realizes he’s still leading the case of my husband’s murder. His face is such an open book – I always know exactly what he’s thinking. After both Dylan and Matt, who were always mysterious and hard to read, it’s a refreshing change.
Not that I’m comparing them, I apologize to myself in my mind, like I’ve done something terrible. I guess since I feel the need to defend my inner voices, it wasn’t the best thought to have …
We set to walk along the river. The path has thankfully been built in wood, which means my heels aren’t digging inches into the wet grass.
Our silence is companionable, but in the end I decide to break it up.
“Thank you, detective, for everything you’ve done for me,” I say simply, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, throwing a pebble into the water.
“Call me Andrew,” he says. “Not because I’ll force you on another date.”
We both chuckle.
“Why, then?” I want to know.
“Because I’d like us to be friends,” he explains simply, but then he stops to pluck a rose out of the ground.
I gasp.
“You can’t do that!” I scold him. “They grow those for decoration!”
He shrugs, grinning at me wildly. “Worth it,” he says simply, and my heart melts a little as he hands me the beautiful light pink bloom.
*
Andrew and I say goodbye a block away from my house to avoid more confusion with the media, even though he’s worried how I’ll get back home. I reassure him it’s only a block away, which I can more than handle.
On the way back, I realize with surprise today was not one of the bleak, dark days. Instead, it was bright and fun, and even though the day was peppered with bad memories, I … I had fun.
Something that is difficult to admit, but instantly elevates my mood.
I head into the house through the front, where another surprise awaits me. The numbers of the journalists camped out in front of my house have diminished greatly, and I soon realize they must have moved on to another story. Just the way life goes, I guess.
With a heavy sigh and only a few solitary clicks and camera flashes, I enter my house, fully expecting a hyper Love to rush to me, almost knocking me sideways.
Instead, there’s silence.
“Love?” I call out hesitantly, heading inside the house and setting my keys and purse down. “Where are you, baby?”
“Right here,” a voice answers me and I nearly jump out of my own skin, turning around to face Dylan cradling my dog in his arms, the puppy sleepless and looking more content than ever.
“Dylan!” I scold him; still trying to catch my breath after the scare he gave me. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that; you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
When I recover from the shock, my brows furrow as I wonder what on earth he’s doing in my house and who let him in. Not that he’s an unwelcome guest, but it makes me queasy just thinking about what an easy target I am.
As if sensing my discomfort and unspoken question, Dylan motions towards the door with his head. “I came in through the back,” he explains quietly and calmly. “You left the terrace door open. You always do.”
I feel embarrassed for some reason, but in the next moment, I’m wondering how he knows that and how many times he’s used the door if he seems to know I often leave it unlocked. I guess it’s a habit I picked up living in a small city, but now that there’s someone out to get me; I really need to be more careful.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Dylan, but he ignores me completely, setting Love down on the floor where she wanders off sleepily.
“Had a fun time today?” he asks me, ignoring my question completely, and I look right at him, feeling completely confused.
“What on earth do you mean?” I ask him.
He shrugs and smirks at me at the same time. “Seems to me like you’re moving on pretty fast. Already at lunch with another guy, huh? Didn’t take you long.”
His words cut straight to the bone and before I let the anger take over, I warn myself to stay rational and talk this through. I had never taken Dylan for the jealous type, but looking at him now makes me believe he’s exactly that.
Not that he has any right to it.
“I’d love to know what you’re implying,” I say icily. “But for your information,” I decide to add, just in case we can make peace and not have this silly argument. “I was out with Detective Andrews, who is in charge of my husband’s murder case.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” And there’s that smirk again. God, it makes me want to scratch his face off. “What’s that, then?”
I realize he’s pointing to the flower in my hand and before I can react, I can feel my cheeks reddening, giving me away. Dylan gives me such a triumphant smile you’d think he just won a medal, but the look is quickly replaced by a brief flash of pain, and then, anger.
“Don’t I mean anything to you, Lola?” he asks me softly, letting me see the vulnerable side of him for a split second. It breaks my heart down the middle to see him like this.
“Dylan,” I say softly, trying to console him. “I just lost my husband. I’m not ready for anything yet, as much as I … feel for you. You and Detective Andrews will both have to respect that.”
Instead of answering, he slams a fist on the kitchen counter and I jump back, hating myself for feeling frightened.
“Are you really comparing me to some cop?” he hisses at me, coming closer as I scoot back until my back hits a wall. “Are you really saying our love is the same as some fleeting connection you share with that … that clown?”
“I suggest you back away and stop calling me that, unless you’d like to be found in violation of your parole,” an icy voice informs him, and Dylan looks over his shoulder to find none other than my lunch companion standing there.
I can see Dylan’s chest rising and falling as goose bumps form on my arms. Dylan is taller and stronger than the detective, yet the man holds power over him, and he’s willing to use it.
With a sigh of frustration, Dylan runs his hands through his thick hair and looks at me desperately. I swallow the lump in my throat, but I don’t say a thing out loud, too afraid of angering either of them.
They stare at each other for a long time and I’ve had enough. I just want some peace of mind and currently, they’re both in my way.
“Get out, both of you,” I say softly, but neither moves an inch.
“Get out!” I say, louder this time, and Love appears at my side, surprisingly growling at the men, even Dylan, who is arguably her favorite person in the world.
Finally, they exchange sheepish looks with me and head out, through the back door again.
As soon as they’re gone, I lock the terrace door.
Twice.
Chapter 34
I’m only just recovering from everything that happened the previous day, when the doorbell wakes me up once again. Lately it seems like I can’t do a single thing in peace, always being bothered by one person or another.
With a grunt, I get off of the couch with Love excitedly running after me as I head for the door. I open it, shielding my eyes from the bright sun and am enveloped in a cloud of white floral perfume.
“
What on earth is that?” a scandalized voice demands, and as my vision focuses, I see my mother-in-law pointing at my dog, who is playfully sniffing her legs. “Or rather, get it away from me,” she sniffs.
I sigh and comply, calling Love to my side and letting her out in the backyard where she busies herself with a rose bush.
“Hello to you too, Barbara,” I greet my mother in-law, showing her to our kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea? The kitchen is this way.”
“I remember perfectly well, thank you,” she responds curtly, heading in the completely wrong direction. “My money paid for this house, thank you very much.”
I’m not about to point out I have money on my own or the fact that she’s walking in the wrong direction, instead stifling my smile and walking towards the kitchen. She realizes her mistake soon enough and catches up with me, eventually ending up in the kitchen faster than me.
As long as that makes her happy.
I prepare tea for the both of us, setting the mugs down in front of her.
“What do you want?” I cut straight to the point, and she smirks at me. Honestly, I don’t care what she thinks – she’s on my turf now and here, we play by my rules. I don’t react to her expression, which annoys her even further.
“I presume you know all the facts now,” she says.
“What they told me,” I say vaguely.
“Saw you on TV,” I add, just because I’m feeling especially mean today, since she woke me up. “You looked quite rough. Hope it won’t damage your media appearance too badly.”
She shoots me daggers with her eyes, which I meet with a smirk of my own, taking a sip of herbal tea, pretending like she’s the last worry in my life.
Truth is, I had always hoped Barbara and I would get along. Because my own mother was so distant, I had always had hopes of being close with my mother-in-law. But because of her over-protectiveness, her strange attitude and plain jealousy she displayed towards me, I always found it hard to interact with her.