by Geneva Lee
“You got a guest room?” Luca asks me. “I think I’m giving up my Platinum Elite privileges with the Eaton hotel chain.”
“It’s just sitting somewhere, waiting to become useful. Can you imagine how valuable that information is?” Jack asks neither of us in particular.
“It’s not as valuable as it is dangerous.” Six months ago, I would have thought about the dollar value, too. But that’s what I’m figuring out about having things you can’t afford to lose: it changes the math.
“It’s pretty powerful leverage. Enough to get Sutton back, and maybe enough to get the Bratva off our backs,” Jack says.
“We’re going to steal it, aren’t we?” Luca says, the devil’s own grin lighting his dark features, adding quickly, “And get your sister back.”
“No. You’re going to steal it,” I correct him. “I’m going to make sure Cyrus can never hurt anyone I love again.”
“Fine,” growls Luca, beginning to unscrew his silencer. “But shoot him once from me, okay?”
19
Adair
Staying put is no longer an option, no matter what I promised Sterling. He has his enemies to deal with, and I have mine.
I keep replaying the moment Ginny told me my father was dying in my head after Malcolm leaves, no longer able to concentrate on my mother’s manuscript. It worked because Ginny wasn’t lying. Not then. Felix even confirmed it later that night. Cancer had taken root, rotting him from the inside out, despite all the money and all the doctors. And then the cancer spread until it was untreatable, spreading past the confines of his body to infect his business, his household, and, of course, his family. By the time, I realized it had reached me, it was too late.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Shoving my mother’s manuscript into a desk drawer, I toss my phone into my bag and scrawl a hastily written note to Trish. I’m out the door a few minutes later. On my way to my car, I flip through my mental calendar. I promised Sterling I would let him handle things. We’d both agreed to go about this through the right channels, so we’d never risk losing Ellie again. I’m going to keep that promise, but I’m not going to let my brother rewrite history. Not anymore. I’ve let them control the situation far too long.
Ginny’s idea of mothering involves a small army of nannies and over-scheduling. I think she’s convinced herself that if she drives Ellie to dance classes and gymnastics and preschool and then dumps her on someone else, she’s done her part. She’s so obsessed that I’ve never even been allowed to pick Ellie up from a single lesson. Now I’m beginning to realize, it’s not just about the role she’s hiding behind, it’s about keeping me in my place.
Shame. Regret. Helplessness. I’d been so weighed down by them for years that I’d started to believe they were right—that I wasn’t enough and I never would be. I’d boxed up the memories of what happened years ago and tucked them somewhere dark and deep—a place I wouldn’t go looking for too often. Telling Sterling, forced me to return there. Confronting Malcolm, opened the box, and now that it’s open, I can’t keep myself from what's inside.
Winter five years ago
Traveling with an infant is a nightmare. Traveling with an infant this close to Christmas is worse.
The flight from London to Nashville was considerably less comfortable than any other I’d taken in my life. Angus MacLaine made good on his promise to cut me off entirely, even after I announced I’d be bringing the baby to live in Tennessee. Thankfully, Ginny kept her promise as well, helping me get a ticket to fly back. She’d convinced me to take her help rather than ask Poppy. I guess for the first time someone in my family is looking out for me, and now I can come clean to Poppy in person. I can’t imagine telling my best friend that I ran away to London to have a baby over the phone. Some things need to be said in person.
“Adair!” Ginny waves me over as soon as I’m through customs and past the security doors. She hurries over, grabbing my bags. “Here, let me help.”
“Thanks,” I say, wondering if I sound as exhausted as I feel. Ellie is the only one of us who got any sleep on the flight, but that’s not saying much. Now she’s curled into a baby carrier, napping soundly on my chest.
“How did she do?” Ginny asks as we make our way to the valet parking station in Terminal Garage One.
“She is not a fan of flying,” I admit.
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “And how did you do?”
“I walked the aisles for nine hours trying to keep her quiet.”
“That bad?”
“I think everyone in economy was plotting to throw us out of the airlock.” There’d been a few who managed to sleep through Ellie’s nine-hour-long protest, but not many.
Her Mercedes is waiting for us when we reach the valet station. She tips the man extra. “Thanks for keeping it out.”
“No problem,” he says, staring at the bills like he’s already spending them.
“I got a car seat,” she says. “I mean, I already had one before…”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. She’s been understanding about everything—too understanding. It only makes me feel worse about changing my mind.
I climb into the back and try to maneuver Ellie into the car seat. The movement jars her awake and the protest begins again. Ginny gets in on the other side. “I think we need to adjust this.” She wiggles and tucks until the straps are expertly secured around my daughter.
“Thanks. I’m not very good at that yet. She didn’t ride in the car much in London,” I admit sheepishly.
“You’ll get it figured out.” She gets out and slides into the driver’s seat. “Are you going to ride with her?”
“I think I better.” I can’t imagine she’ll ever calm down if she’s back here all alone.
Ginny spends the entire ride to the hotel catching me up on all the gossip I missed while I was gone. I drift in and out, too tired to keep up with who’s getting divorced, been cheated on, or gotten remarried. It will all change next week anyway.
I’m surprised when we pull up in front of a run-down motel on the outskirts of Nashville. Two floors are stacked into a block of rooms. A long exterior corridor lines the top. From the looks of it the metal railing was once painted red, but it faded along with a welcome sign that points to the front office. Next to the office’s door, there’s a vending machine with cracked glass and an ice machine labeled out of order in black marker. There are a fair few vehicles here even mid-day, or I might have thought the place abandoned. It’s not exactly up to MacLaine standards.
Ginny glances over her shoulder, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s the best I could do to keep you close but give you some privacy. I figured you’d want to keep a low profile until…”
Until I find the courage to tell my friends that I have a baby now? Until I face my father? Until I have a plan? I swallow, my tongue feeling thick in my throat, and nod. “You’re probably right. It’s not that bad.”
Maybe it is, but it could also be worse. When Ginny told me she arranged a hotel room for me to stay in until I figured out my next move, I’d naturally assumed she meant at the Eaton. But she’s two steps ahead of me. Of course, I don’t want to show my face there. Not yet. Not until things are settled one way or another.
“It’s only for a few days, right?” she says as if she can read my thoughts. “That gives you time to talk to your friends. Maybe even go to see your father.”
“Yeah,” I agree half-heartedly as I unbuckle Ellie. She wakes up with an ear-splitting scream and I hurriedly press her close, shushing her gently until the crying diminishes to a whimpering mewl.
“I’ll get the bags.” She holds out a key. “You’re already checked in.”
I turn the plastic keyring over in my palm and read 113. At least we’re on the ground floor.
The inside of the motel isn’t much better than the outside. I ignore a dark stain on the purple carpet by the door and carry Ellie to the bed. One look at the worn cover
let sends me searching in my diaper bag for a blanket. I spread it over the bed with one hand as best I can and lay her down to change her. Ginny drags my suitcases in and looks around. Even after the door closes behind her, I can hear the roar of the highway. The loud whoosh of a truck rattles the room’s cheap windows.
Our gazes lock like we’re playing chicken, before Ginny finally asks, “Where do you want these?”
At the Eaton. I bite back that response and tip my head toward a table shoved into the corner. Getting them away from the disturbing stain near the door is my first order of business. I carry the dirty diaper to the bathroom trash and discover a roach crawling across the bathtub. The skittering movement of its legs raises the hair on the back of my neck, and I rush back in to pick Ellie up from the bed terrified I’ll find something crawling on her.
I’d told myself up until now that I’d take a few days, get over my jet lag, get Ellie settled, and then reach out to Poppy. I can already see that timeline shortening to a few hours. There’s no way I can stay here with Ellie and feel safe. But Ginny’s already done enough. It’s not like she can afford to do more without making Malcolm suspicious about what’s draining her account.
“Do you want to grab some dinner?” she asks once she’s plopped both bags down on the table.
“I think I’m going to call Poppy.”
“Are you ready?”
I am now. I can’t explain to her that I don’t have a lot of choice in the matter. I’m avoiding my friends to protect my pride. But I can’t do that at the cost of endangering Ellie. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but I can’t put it off—for Ellie’s sake.”
“I’m sorry. I should have checked this place out better. I found it on the internet and it’s so close to Nashville and Valmont.” She shakes her head. “We need to find you both some place better.”
I’m sure that Ginny didn’t know there were hotels in the world where there were no mints on your pillowcase or turndown service. “You’ve done so much for us already,” I say, voicing my earlier thoughts. “After everything I put you through, you didn’t have to help me—help us.”
“Of course, I do. We’re family. Family looks out for each other.”
“Is that how it’s supposed to work?” I ask dryly. Someone should tell my father. “I thought family cleaned up messes and kept secrets and made threats.”
“Some MacLaines operate that way, but I’m not a MacLaine by birth. I guess where some see messes, I see opportunities.” She forces a smile, but it fizzles quickly like she’s only got so much more energy to give to righting all the wrongs committed by my bloodline. “Are you tired? You could lay down. I’ll keep an eye on Ellie.”
“Actually, I’m not. I just want to call Poppy.” If there’s one person in the world who will make me feel like everything might turn out okay, it’s her. The truth is I know she won’t be disappointed or judgmental. I think that’s the reason I’ve avoided telling her for so long. Part of me feels like I should be punished. I might love Ellie, but there’s no way around it: getting pregnant with her was a mistake. It’s going to be a lot harder to stay mad at myself when someone forgives me.
“You call her. I’ll hold the baby,” Ginny urges me.
I hand her Ellie gratefully and step out the door for a little privacy. Poppy answers on the second ring.
“It’s the prodigal daughter!” she cries on the other end. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’ve been busy.” There’s no lie there.
“So busy you couldn’t do more than respond to a text once a week? Did you meet someone?” she asks.
“I wouldn’t say I met someone exactly. There’s definitely someone new in my life, though.”
“Spill. I want all the details,” she gushes.
“I was thinking we could meet actually.” I take a deep breath. “I’m home for a bit.”
“Wait? What? You’re here? In Valmont?”
“I just got in.” But a giddy scream drowns out my response.
Poppy seems torn between elation and accusation. “I can’t believe you just showed up...I’m supposed to go out with Cyrus to Christmas shop but I can skip it. I can’t believe you’re here! I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back from London.”
“Neither was I.”
“I can meet you somewhere. Are you at home?”
“No,” I say quickly. I glance at a tall weed growing through a crack in the sidewalk. “Let’s meet somewhere for dinner. I’ll text you.”
“I can’t wait to see you!” she squeals before hanging up.
I return to the room to find Ginny swaying with Ellie in her arms.
“How did that go?” she asks.
“We’re going to meet for dinner,” I say, scrolling through my phone. “I have to think of somewhere low-key that is baby-friendly.” And not packed for the holidays.
“Why don’t I just stay with Ellie?”
“Oh, I don’t know if…” I haven’t been away from her since she was born.
“It’s going to be crazy everywhere this close to Christmas,” Ginny points out meaningfully.
Not only will it be hard to get in most family-friendly places but it’s a lot more likely I’ll be seen with a baby this time of year. I might be ready to come clean to Poppy, but I don’t want to star as the gossip at every Christmas party in Valmont, especially my family’s. Still, it’s not that simple. “She doesn’t take a bottle very well, and I can’t exactly pump.”
“How often does she eat?” Ginny asks.
“Every two hours, or whenever she starts screaming,” I admit sheepishly.
“Then feed her, head out, and be back here in two hours,” she says with a shrug. “You can take my car.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m stranding you here. I’ll call an Uber.”
“Even better.”
Without the baby, there are more options and I text Poppy to meet me at a nearby Hennie’s before I show Ginny everything I think she might need to know. “If she’s wet, there will be a blue line on the diaper,” I say, holding up a clean one. “Now the tabs go in the back and—”
“I know how to change a diaper, Adair,” she cuts me off with an amused snort.
“Oh. Of course.” I don’t add that I didn’t know until a nurse showed me how. Despite the fact that she obviously has a step up on me where babies are concerned, she listens patiently to the rest of my advice, which includes everything from Ellie’s favorite ways to be comforted to when to dial 911. When I finish, she’s staring at me with a puzzled expression. “What? Ok, I know. I’m going over-the-top.”
“It’s not that.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t expect you to be so...prepared. No offense.”
“It’s been trial by fire,” I confess, kissing Ellie’s forehead, “but she’s worth it.”
“I can see that,” Ginny says softly. “Adair, I—” An incoming alert buzzes on my phone, and she stops. “I think your ride’s here. You better hurry. See you soon.”
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never left Ellie to go out before or maybe it’s where I’m leaving her, but it feels like my feet are encased in concrete, each step away harder to take than the last. Ginny waves me off when I reach the Uber sitting in the parking spot next to her car. After the door closes, I pause and listen for the slide of the lock. Getting into the car and closing the door turns out to be nearly as hard as walking away. The driver stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“You’re going to Hennie’s?” he says impatiently as I buckle up.
“Yeah. The one off 155,” I add quickly, afraid he’ll take me to a different location farther away.
He bobs his head and takes off while I swivel in my seat and watch the motel, my heart aching, until it becomes a spec on the road behind me. When I can’t see it anymore, the aching becomes so intense that I nearly tell him to turn around. It takes every ounce of restraint I possess to stop myself, but I can't help feeling like I left my heart behind in room
113 of the Half-point Motel.
By the time I spot the familiar Hennie’s sign, glowing in purple and red neon, I think I might vomit. Poppy’s car is in the parking lot, which only makes me feel worse. Dragging myself out of the car, I thank my driver who doesn’t bother to reply and prepare to face Poppy.
“You’re wasting time,” I say as I stare at the swinging door, half hoping it will open and Poppy will spill out and carry me inside. But she’s already in there, waiting, and I can’t avoid this any longer.
As soon as I’m inside, I glance around the familiar interior. It’s a bit different than the Hennie’s I grew up with in Valmont. Not as clean, for one thing, but that’s hardly a surprise since the owner spends most of her time at the original location. But the menu hanging above the counter is the same as well as the purple, high-back booths, and black and white tiled floor. For the first time, since I landed in Nashville, it feels like I’ve come home. Movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Poppy flagging me with a grin, her long arm waving me toward a booth in the corner.
She looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her. She’s traded summer sun dresses for jeans and a sweater more fitting the cooler December temperatures, but it’s the same smile, the same hair, the same warm, friendly eyes. It should be comforting. Instead, I feel a million miles away from her.
“You look wonderful,” she says, bouncing up to give me a hug.
The truth is that I’m still holding on to at least forty pounds of baby weight. That’s probably a generous underestimate for my own sanity. It hasn’t occurred to me until now that she’ll notice. Will she wonder why? I run a hand over my less-than-flat stomach, smoothing my shirt, self-consciously before I sit across from her.
“I already ordered enough to feed an army! So I hope you’re hungry.”
“Great,” I lie. There’s no way I’ll be able to eat a bite, even after I tell her the truth.