by Riley, Alexa
“So.” Oscar nudges me with his shoulder, then pulls the box out of the white bag, opening it to reveal cinnamon rolls, and offering me one. I take one from the box. The roll is still warm, and I take a giant bite. The hunger comes and goes. Sometimes I feel like I can eat anything, and sometimes I have to make myself.
“He’s the father,” I finally admit.
“I like the way you draw him. He doesn’t look as nice on the television.”
My face jerks back to his as he studies the painting. He knows.
“You know who I am?” He just nods his head like it’s no big deal. “How long have you known?”
“Since I saw you.”
“Oh.” I sit back against the bench. I’m at a loss for words. It’s not like we’re famous really, but every now and then Phillip would make the news for work. Oscar isn’t the first person I’ve heard say Phillip looks mean. He’s a big guy. He’s more than a few inches over six foot, and he’s broad, too. No leanness to him. He’s built like a tank, I often thought, but it always made me feel safe. But then again, I always got the soft Phillip. His eyes never went cold on me. Or they hadn’t. I wouldn’t bet on that now. I know he’s looking for me. I’d even had to put in a call to the New York Police Department to stop him from filing a missing person’s report. Then I got my lawyer to serve him divorce papers. Said I’d agree to whatever he wanted. I wasn’t going to fight him.
I hadn’t heard a word after that and my lawyer said he’d yet to respond. I wasn’t pushing. I just wanted to be left alone for a little bit longer. I was still trying to accept the fact that I was pregnant. I was a little slow on the uptake. I’d only figured it out about a month ago myself.
Time seemed to blur together here with endless days of sadness. It wasn’t until I couldn’t keep anything down that it finally clicked into place.
“He looks like shit.”
“I don’t watch the TV or look at the paper.” Heck, I don’t even own a television in the tiny studio I’m living in above a little print shop. Still, I don’t understand how Oscar’s words make me feel. Happy that he looks like shit without me, or remorse because I still love him and hate the idea of him hurting, even if he hurt me?
“I can’t help myself. Gotta watch my news every night.”
“I’m going to tell him,” I say defensively. I don’t want him to think I’ll keep this baby from him, because I won’t. I just want to get it together. Get my head on straight. I keep thinking time will make the pain lessen, but I’m starting to think nothing will.
One thing I do know, I won’t be like my mother. She ran. Took off and left me behind. This might not have been the life I’d wanted, the family I’d dreamed about having, but I’d make it work. I’d pull myself together. Go back to the city and do what I have to do so we can both be a part of the child’s life. This baby will have both of us. I just hope Phillip will be more engaged in this child’s life than he had been in our marriage.
It would kill me if the novelty of a child could wear off like what had happened to me. Either way, it would be better than having no father at all. My father might not have been perfect, but he was still there, unlike my mother. That was something.
“Didn’t think you would. Just taking your time. You’ll get there.” With that, he stands and tosses the box in the trash.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get there. The time isn’t working as I spend my days painting and my nights lying in bed looking up at the ceiling. Letting things eat away at me. I have to go back. The sooner the better.
To get things ready for this child. To work on how Phillip and I are going to be in each other’s lives.
Finishing my cinnamon roll, I lick my fingers clean before I start packing up my art supplies. I put everything in my bag, fold the easel, and put it under my arm. I pull out my phone and call a number I know by heart. I’m not sure if I want her to answer.
“Cindy Reed speaking.” Cindy’s voice comes through the phone, the sound making my eyes water. I miss her. She’s probably going to kill me.
“Cindy, it’s—”
“Molly!” she barks into the phone, cutting me off. “Where the fuck are you?”
I hear someone gasp in the background. It actually makes me crack a smile. God, I really do miss her.
“I’m coming home. I was wondering if I could stay with you,” I ask, stepping off the sidewalk to cross the street in the direction of my little apartment. I’ll need to start packing things up because I know as soon as I get off this phone, Phillip will find me and show up here. Or worse, he won’t.
I barely hear the sound of the car before I feel someone grab me, slamming me down on the concrete, and everything goes black.
Chapter Four
Phillip
The feel of my fist through the drywall does nothing to ease the anger pulsing through my veins and the sadness weighing heavy in my heart. I’m so fucking angry, I often feel like it consumes me, and I’m so fucking scared, but I don’t know what else to do. It feels hopeless, and then again it feels like any second, she’ll come walking through the door.
“Mr. Tanner, please understand we are doing everything we can to locate Mrs. Tanner.”
Shaking my fist out, I try to get the feeling back in my hand. It doesn’t make me feel better, but it’s all I can do. I’ve got a team of three private investigators on this, and no one has found a trace of her. It’s been weeks, and nothing.
She could be dead.
My heart stops at that thought. No, I would feel it shake my soul if she wasn’t alive. I would know deep in my bones if she wasn’t somewhere on this earth. She is the other half of my heart, and I will find her. No matter how long it takes. She’s checked in with the police and some lawyer. Both claimed not to know where she was, just that she was okay.
She ran out on me without so much as a word. She owes me an explanation, a way to make this right. I rub my face with my now beat-up hand and let out a sigh. I was going to make everything okay. I’d had it all worked out. We were going to have it all. We were just hours from getting it, and then poof!
I pace in my home office, not knowing how to respond to that. What do I say? Prove it? I’ve already yelled at everyone in this room at least once today. I stopped going to work after the night she left, waiting here in case she walked through the door. After the first night, I knew I couldn’t sit still, so I hired Carl Major and his team to find my Molly. She may need time to cool off, but she could have done that in the other room. She didn’t need to leave the house if she was having second thoughts about our marriage.
“How can there be nothing?” I scream the last word, my voice echoing off the walls.
The two men sitting before me flinch a bit, and I’m sure I’m a ragged mess. I haven’t slept in weeks, just walking around like a zombie. My old assistant, Debra, actually flew back from Florida for a few days when she heard Molly left. She made me lots of food I never really touched and left some in the freezer, too. She went back to her family last week, and her small visit was a comfort for a short time. But now I’m all alone in my grief and I can’t take it anymore. Maybe I am a madman, but I’ll be goddamned if she can leave me like this.
The investigators asked if we’d had any problems in our marriage. I didn’t know how to explain that I loved her beyond all sane reasoning, and I had to keep busy at work to stop the obsession that was growing inside me. They asked if there had been any infidelity and I laughed in their faces. No other existed besides my Molly. I was blind until she came into my life, and after that day, she’s the only woman I see. The men seemed skeptical, but I didn’t give a shit. They can think whatever the fuck they want as long as they find her.
I find myself falling between being grief-stricken and being mad as hell. I’m so fucking sad she’s gone, and I’d give anything to hold her in my arms again. But on the other hand, I’m so fucking angry she left me like this that I don’t know if I could look her in the eyes. I finally needed someone, and she was gone.
I know the last part is a lie, even as the thought flits through my jumbled brain. I would never look away from her again if I had her back in my sight. How stupid of me to waste so many nights away from her when I could have had her beneath me as we made love in bed. The thought brings a lump to my throat and I hold back a sob. I spent the last year trying to get shit in order so that I would never have to walk into another office again. I did all that I could to set our lives in motion, and it was to the detriment of our relationship.
Parts of our lives replay over and over in my brain, and I keep trying to pinpoint why she would just leave me like this. Leave us like this. I knew she was unhappy in the penthouse, but I was making strides to change that. To live up to the promises I’d made her, but maybe I took too long.
I didn’t think she was so unhappy with me and our marriage that she would just walk out. No explanation, just a note saying I can’t do this. Don’t follow me. I’d worried that note in my fingers for so many days, I wore a hole in it.
I keep pacing, trying to think of something. Even after the cops said she was okay. Maybe she was kidnapped and forced to write it. Maybe she had a fever and she was hallucinating and thought she had to go.
Both of those scenarios make my palms sweaty with fear. But when I checked the security cameras, she was alone and didn’t seem to be under any duress. She moved fast out of the building, but it wasn’t as if she was running. Then we traced her credit cards to an ATM from which she withdrew a large amount of cash. Then nothing.
I keep thinking that there had to be a reason. Maybe there was another man…
Reaching over, I grab the glass paperweight on my desk and throw it across the room like a baseball. I hear the noise of its collision with the wall, but I ignore it. If I truly took a good look around the room, I’m sure I’d see it’s destroyed, but better in here than the rest of the house. I left our home untouched until she returns. Because she will return. There is no other way.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear the office door open. I don’t look up to see if the investigators left, I just walk to the window and stare out at the rain. I wonder if my Molly is cold, if she’s out in this with no shelter. I wonder for the ten thousandth time if she’s safe. I think I could live with anything as long as she was safe.
“Mr. Tanner. We’ve got something.”
I spin around, seeing the youngest of the trio, Jeremy, walk in and hand his phone over to Carl. After he looks at it, he nods and then looks to me. There is hope in his eyes, but I don’t dare read too much into it. I want to hear what he has to say first.
“We’ve been watching all her known associates since you requested our services, and it looks like your friend Cindy received a call from an unknown number. Jeremy traced the call and has a recording.”
He lays the phone on my desk and hits play.
Molly’s voice fills my ears, and I fall to my knees, clutching my chest. It’s the first time in weeks that we’ve gotten a single scrap of information, and the sound of her voice is overwhelming.
I was wondering if I could come home and stay with you. Then Molly stops talking. There’s the sound of someone screaming, and then I hear the loud noise of screeching brakes. Cindy says her name in a panic, and then the line goes dead.
A deathly chill runs down my spine, and I’m on my feet in a second, ready to take action. I don’t even have to ask before Jeremy starts talking.
“I traced her call to a burner phone, but we were able to pinpoint her position to Washington Beach. It’s about five hours south—”
“I know where it is.” It’s two hours away from where they had traced her call to the police station and her lawyer. By the time we’d gotten there, she was gone.
I’m blowing past the men as I make my way through the penthouse and to the front door, grabbing my keys. I don’t know what that was on that recording, but I know that’s where Molly is and that’s where I’m going.
“Sir, wait. We’ll escort you,” Carl says as they chase after me.
“You’re welcome to follow,” is all I say as I get in the elevator and push the button for the lobby.
The three men barely slip in before the doors shut, and I feel antsy. Finally, I have a direction. I just need to make sure she’s okay, and then I need to talk to her. Find out what the fuck happened. She’s okay. She’s totally fine. She has to be.
As we exit the building I get behind the wheel of my McLaren F1 and grip the wheel. This was a rash purchase when I was in my early twenties, but now I’m glad to have it. This baby can do two hundred and forty miles an hour. I plan on getting to my Molly in just under two hours instead of five.
When I make it across the bridge and out of the city, I hit the gas. Hard. Nothing and no one is standing in my way. I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to kill. My wife is mine. And I’m bringing her home, whether she wants to come or not.
Chapter Five
Phillip
I’m an hour into the drive and I don’t think my knuckles have stopped aching from how hard I’ve been gripping the wheel. I’ve kept my focus on getting to Molly, unable to think of anything else. But as the miles are eaten up under my tires, my mind starts to drift. I think about our wedding day, and then my thoughts go to our wedding night. Everyone tells you to try and remember as much as you can because over time the day will fade and all you’ll have are pictures. Bullshit. I’ll remember every second of that day for the rest of my life. And I don’t need any pictures to remind me.
I stand in a peach orchard at the end of a long row, dressed in a suit and tie. It smells like sweet fruit and springtime, but the scent does nothing to calm me. I fiddle with the cuff of my shirt, unable to keep my hands still. I’m waiting for Molly to walk down the aisle to me, and if I don’t keep my fingers locked in front of me, I may very well run down the second I see her and pull her to me. I need to try to even my breathing so that when she finally appears, I won’t scream like Braveheart and charge after her.
After what feels like an eternity, I see her at the end of the long line of peach trees. White peeks out among the leaves as she makes her way down the grove to where I’m standing. It takes all the power I have inside me not to take a single step. Instead I just watch her as she comes into full view.
She’s wearing her hair down and in soft waves past her shoulders. She has one section pulled back with a cream-colored flower, and she’s smiling at me with big excited eyes. I feel myself swallow back a moan of equal parts excitement and overwhelming love. She looks so fucking beautiful.
As my eyes travel lower, I see she’s got on a simple cream dress. It’s got small straps over her shoulders, and the rest is long and flowing. There’s a little lace at the bottom, and I see her toes peep out in the blue sandals she’s wearing underneath as she takes each step. Her father is on her arm, but she might as well be alone for all I see. The small crowd drops away, and as she reaches me, I can’t be still anymore.
Taking three giant steps, I go to her, taking her away from what’s holding her and bringing her to where I was standing. There are words being said, but I hear none of it, only speaking when prompted. I spend the entire ceremony smiling at my bride and whispering to her how beautiful she looks. Her cheeks are pink the entire time, embarrassed at being watched by everyone and by my repeated words. I think I say it to her a thousand times, but I just can’t stop myself. She’s just so incredibly perfect, and I love her more than I ever thought possible.
After the ceremony, I don’t let go of her hand. People ask her to dance, but I refuse. It’s the one day I can be as selfish as I want, and I won’t have her taken an inch from my side. I hold her close as we sway to the music, waiting on the moment when I can take her upstairs. I want her to enjoy her wedding day and have all the moments she’s been planning for, but I’ve had about enough of sharing her.
“Are you ready, my love?” I lean down and place a soft kiss on the bare skin of her shoulder. She leans into me, pressing her
soft curves against me. When I feel her nod, I pull us away and drift into the shadows, away from the party.
We’d taken a drive out to the country right after I’d asked Molly to marry me. When she saw the peach farm, she made me pull over so we could take a look. The older couple who owned it were nice enough and allowed us to have a picnic there on the property. By the end of the day, I’d convinced them to let us have our wedding there. He said it should be good luck because he and his wife had been married on this little farm and celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary that year. It was all too perfect, and I was thankful I was able to give Molly what she wanted.
Our reception is held in the barn, and I have my car waiting out back for when she’s ready to go. After we sneak out, I drive up to the sound to a house I’ve rented for the week. I told Molly I would take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go, but all she said was she wanted me and nothing else for as long as possible.
When we get to the house, I make her sit still while I grab our bags out of the back and run them up the stairs into the beach house. I give the place a quick once-over, making sure that everything is in place before I go back outside and open her door.
She smiles up at me like I’ve hung the moon, and I vow right there and then to try to keep that look on her face every day for the rest of our lives. No one has ever looked at me like that. I’d never thought I'd want someone to. But I like it from her. No, I fucking love it. She’s so fucking sweet and innocent. I want to protect that.
Scooping her up in my arms, I kick the car door shut, and carry my bride into the house. The place has been lit with soft lights, and the kitchen is stocked, so we don’t have any reason to leave. I walk her to the bedroom. I see that the bed has been turned down and there are rose petals scattered across it. After setting her down gently on the edge of the bed, I kneel in front of her and just look at her.