“Mom, if you would just give him a chance, you’d see—”
“I’ve already seen it. Hell, I’ve lived it! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I loved a great guy who swore to love me forever, chose his baby over my career, watched him leave, and struggled on my own to somehow build a life while raising a kid. Yours isn’t the first story of its kind, Emily. There’s nothing special about it.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I’ve never heard my mother talk so candidly about her past, and especially about what her life was like when I came along. The hurt in her voice is almost unbearable. Her disappointment in me seeps into the air between us.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m so sorry that your story went the way it did, Mom.”
She gives a bitter laugh, shaking her head again. “Right. And you believe yours will be different.” Then she gets up with a sigh. “I know there’s nothing I can say that’ll change your mind. Because I know what I would’ve told my mother.”
“Can we just talk about this some more? Peter’s on his way. He wanted to talk to you.”
“I can’t deal with this right now. I’m going to need some time.”
And with that, she walks off.
I don’t know what to feel. There were so many charged emotions in our short exchange, and only some of them had to do with me. It’s clear that my mother still has a lot of demons in her past that she hasn’t dealt with. I wish she would let me help her with them, instead of using me as a kind of carbon copy do-over for her life.
“Miss McAfee?” Ted appears beside me all of a sudden. He has a habit of doing that. He also refuses to call me by my name. The whole ‘Miss’ thing always makes me feel at least a hundred years old.
“Yes, we can go home now,” I say, rising slowly to my feet. “Maybe stop at the McDonald’s drive-thru on our way, or—”
“No, ma’am, I can’t take you home just yet.”
“We can’t?” His face is inscrutable, but my heart picks up speed and the strangest feeling crawls through the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.
“There’s been an accident,” he says.
Chapter Eighteen
Peter
“I wish you had told me about it first,” I say to Emily.
She’s frantically folding laundry on the bed, acting strangely distant with me. I can’t help feeling like she’s taking this out on me. Like it’s my fault that lunatic clipped my car and forced me off the road.
“Look, it was the right thing to do,” she says, looking up at me. “Your father’s already on his way over, so it’s no use you going on and on about it.”
She hands me a pile of freshly folded t-shirts. I move to take them, but she doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, she fixes me with a steady look.
“He has a right to know, Peter.”
I give her a stiff nod and she releases me to go about my packing duties.
“I know this is the plan,” I say, putting the t-shirts into my closet one at a time. I’m deliberately making the task longer than it should be because it’s easier to talk to the darkness inside there. “To get them both on board with this. With us.”
“Exactly.” Her voice comes from behind me, where she’s still folding away.
“I’m just saying, a heads-up would’ve been nice.”
“Yeah, well, you were drugged up and asleep when he called you. Of course he had questions when I answered your phone. I didn’t have a choice but to invite him over.”
I rub the stiff strain in the back of neck. I was lucky to get out of the accident with nothing more than a few scrapes—also lucky to get super-strength painkillers for my whiplash. They knocked me out and allowed me to escape reality for a little while.
Imagine my dismay coming back to the world and finding out that the first order of business would be seeing my dad.
A loud knock on the front door filters into the room then, and I turn to Emily. Her nervous expression is a clear mirror of mine.
“Game on,” I say with a shrug, and go to answer it.
After the awkward greetings and tour of my new apartment—our apartment—we move to the living room for coffee. Emily’s even set a fancy serving tray out and everything. It’s adorable how hard she’s trying to make a good impression, and I feel bad that I didn’t have that chance with her mother.
My father is seated in the armchair, and after setting down the coffee and handing him his cup, Emily comes to sit next to me on the two-seater couch.
“So, this is what’s happening,” my dad says in an agitated tone.
Emily and I share a look, and then look to him and nod.
He shakes his head, and with a sardonic laugh, says, “Talk about dejá vu.”
I reach out for Emily’s hand and hold it tightly in mine. She returns the gesture with a squeeze of her own. “We’re not you and Trish, Dad.”
He gives me a mocking salute with his coffee mug. “Sure, sure. You guys are idiots. At least me and Trish knew what we were getting into. We knew the odds were stacked. But you two actually think this is a good idea. Well, it’s not, I can tell you that.”
“We want our family to get past whatever happened before,” Emily says, choosing not to engage with his scornful judgement of our relationship. “It’s important to us that our baby not only knows its grandparents, but gets to grow up with them in a loving environment.”
“Loving environment?” my dad scoffs.
“I remember a time when we had that,” I say. “Before things went south with you and Trish. And I’m willing, for Emily’s sake and the sake of our baby—” I feel her give my hand another squeeze. She knows what this is taking, for me to approach my father at all, to make peace. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones and try to have a better go of it with you.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, eyeing me with interest. I know he’s trying to decide whether to take me seriously or not.
“And what does your mother have to say about all this?” he asks, waving his hand in the general direction of the two of us.
Emily sits up straight, apparently shocked at being addressed so suddenly.
“She’s warming up to it,” I say, and watch her let out a relieved breath that I stepped in.
“Look, we know it’s a lot to process,” she says. “But Peter and I really love each other.”
“A lot.”
“And with the baby on the way, we feel it’s long overdue that we let this water pass under the bridge.”
My dad puts down his coffee and stands up. Emily and I watch him rise over us like a giant. I suddenly feel like a little boy again.
“This is insane,” he says, “and you two are insane for thinking it’ll work out.”
And that’s that. He starts to leave.
I’m not at all surprised by his reaction, so it’s nothing to me that he’s on his way out.
But Emily jumps up and follows him.
“This is happening,” she calls out, and he stops to turn and look at her. “We’re happy and in love, and can’t wait to start our lives together. And whatever you might think or feel about it doesn’t matter.”
“It shouldn’t,” my dad says simply, with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s your life, and you should do what makes you happy.”
I come up behind her just as my dad says that, and both of us are standing there in mild shock. Was that something nice he just said?
He chuckles softly to himself as he continues to the front door, and right before he leaves, he calls over his shoulder to Emily and I, who are rooted to the spot, “Be sure and send me a pic of the sonogram when you go.”
And then he leaves.
“Did that just happen?” Emily looks at me with wide eyes.
“Must be a brain tumor.”
She starts laughing, and I follow suit.
Later that night, we are in bed. There’s a spark of hope in me after the meeting with my dad; it looks like things might just work out on that front.
; I turn to Emily, and she’s on her phone. Snaking my arm across her bare stomach, I nuzzle up to her. “Penny for your thoughts?”
It’s become this sweet exchange between us since she first said it to me. Now we use it when we want to let the other know that they’re not alone. Usually, Emily melts against me and the words spill out of her mouth.
But not tonight.
Instead, she tenses up under my touch. That’s never happened before.
“Hey.” I touch my finger to her chin and make her look at me. “Are you okay?”
Emily sets her phone down on the bedside table and twists onto her side so she’s facing me.
It doesn’t escape me that the way she moved also made sure she’s no longer so close to me.
“I can’t lose you, Peter.” Her eyes are glistening with tears that haven’t fallen yet.
It strikes me how heavy her heart is, when I’m right next to her feeling light and hopeful.
“You won’t,” I say, and cup her cheek with my hand. “You’re not going to lose me.”
She leans into my touch and closes her eyes. A single tear falls then, and she sniffles as she lifts her head again.
“That’s just it. I almost did,” she says.
“The accident?” I scoff. “That was nothing, Emily. The guy is more bark than bite, I swear to you. His driving skills confirm that.”
But my attempt to lighten the mood isn’t working.
She sighs heavily.
“Look, I’ve dealt with a lot worse in my career,” I say. “So trust me when I say that there’s no way this guy will ever get the upper hand over me.”
I close the gap between us, and with no more space on the bed for her to go, Emily lies back and lets me. I press up against her. The feel of her soft, supple skin against mine works its magic and I immediately get hard.
“I’m really tired tonight, Peter.”
Her words stop me in my tracks. This is the first time she’s made an excuse to get out of sex; her appetite has been unfailingly voracious. I understand she’s going through a lot, but I also know the release will help ease her nerves.
“Are you sure?” My fingers create a ghostly trail down her slender neck and across her chest.
Her breathing deepens as I take her nipple, tugging it lightly.
She turns on her pillow and her mouth is right by my jaw. “I’m scared,” she says.
It’s a whisper that’s barely there, and it damn near breaks my heart.
“Don’t be. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” I bend down to kiss her, teasing her nipple some more.
My cock is pulsing against her thigh, and I begin rubbing myself there to ease the tension.
Her soft moan trembles into my mouth and she pulls me on top of her, spreading herself wide for me. I go to kiss her again, but this time she turns her head and buries her face in the curve of my neck. So I close my eyes and slide into her. The feel of her tight sheath around me sends sparks of lightning up my spine.
A loud groan escapes me as I speed up my thrusts with urgency.
“Oh God, I love you so much.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” she says.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
I bring up the text messages on my phone again. No matter how many times I look at them, the same dread creeps up on me each time.
You’re mine.
A shiver steals through me.
Another one reads:
You better keep your lover boy away from that lunch.
Or he’ll be sorry.
That was the one I was reading in bed last night. Peter doesn’t know I still have them. If he did, he would probably be upset. But I can’t bring myself to delete the texts. I can’t explain it, but having them on my phone helps.
For so long it’s felt like we’ve been trying to catch a ghost in the wind with a shredded net. The texts are solid evidence that, unlike ghosts, this threat exists. It reminds me that my stalker is real. And if he’s real, it means he can be caught.
I exit the message screen and toss my phone onto the table. It lays there, blank and silent, and for some weird and inexplicable reason, I find myself willing it to ring. To whistle off a notification. Anything.
It doesn’t.
Exasperated with myself, I go into the kitchen to get some water. I’m really craving a good, strong cup of coffee right now, but I’m trying to limit my caffeine. For the baby. I allow myself two cups, one for breakfast with Peter and the other for at night before bed.
And Peter. He’s been so great to me, especially since the news of the baby. If he was affectionate and caring before, it’s doubled now. He sulks every morning when he has to leave for work, kissing my belly before going out the door. And then I can expect several calls throughout the day while he’s gone, checking in to make sure I’m okay. I don’t know how I got so lucky.
The shrill ringing of my phone floats through from the living room. Speak of the devil, I think to myself as I go to answer it. When I pick up my phone, though, it’s Heather’s name on the screen.
“Hey, you.”
“Hey, me?” she says. “You don’t get to hey me until after you’ve made this right, McAfee.”
I roll my eyes. She’s upset that we still haven’t celebrated yet. But between things with our parents and my new text buddy, I haven’t been in a particularly celebratory mood.
“I’m so sorry, my dear, dear, bestest friend in the whole world,” I say, laying it on especially thick.
She sniggers into the phone. “I miss you. When can I come around? And don’t say you don’t know. I may cry.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“You okay?” Her voice goes back to normal as we move from the joking around part of the conversation to the real reason for her call—to check in on me.
“Meh. You know how it is,” I say, careful not to commit to any one feeling. I wouldn’t know where to begin.
“Yeah, totally. I mean, just last year I dropped out of school because a crazy stalker wanted me dead, and then I fell pregnant.”
I snort with laughter. “Okay, okay, geez. The baby is giving me weird nightmares. No morning sickness, though, which is great. And Peter’s working a good lead on the case, which is also great, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“No, I know. And also, I never dropped out. I’m on leave due to extraneous circumstances. How’s school by the way? You still surviving campus without me?”
I take a big gulp of water and swallow my disappointment that it isn’t anything stronger.
“Honestly, Em, I don’t know how I make it through my days without you here. But yeah, classes are going well. You missed a shitload of drama last week.”
College drama. It does nothing for me anymore. How could it? All that stuff seems so rudimentary and childish after everything I’ve been through lately.
“Like what?” I ask her anyway, because I know she’s dying to tell me.
“A bunch of cops showed up on campus to question that TA that Trevor’s dating.”
My heart speeds up and my mouth goes dry.
“Wh—what for? What did they want?”
“Well, the rumor mill has been working overtime on that one. Apparently she’s the one who called them, and from there the details get sketchy.”
My legs are jelly. I need to sit down. Peter didn’t mention anything about this to me. I flop onto the couch.
“Some people are saying she called the cops on Trevor after he lost his shit and got violent with her, but there’s another story saying she called to report him missing.”
How could Peter’s team not have picked up on this? Whatever the reason, any activity related to Trevor is supposed to raise flags at the station. Or at least that’s what he told me.
“Has, um, has Trevor been around?” I try to sound as nonchalant as I can.
“That’s how the whole missing person thing started,” Heather says. “He’s been MIA on campus for we
eks.”
My phone beeps in my ear, signaling another incoming call. I pull it away to look and my heart jumps into my throat.
It’s not a call, but a text.
“Sorry, Heather, I have to go,” I say, without even bringing the phone back up to my ear.
I kill the call instantly, and with shaky fingers, I open the new text message.
You can end this. Do you want to?
My fingers start typing before my brain can catch up to what’s happening.
Yes. PLEASE! I just want this to be over. What do you want from me?
I hit send.
My ears are thudding and my breathing is coming shallow and fast. I should probably have held off on answering. I should have told Peter first.
He’d explained to me how they could triangulate the stalker’s location using cell towers. He said that even with the old SIM card destroyed, I should notify them if the creep makes contact using a different number.
But bringing Peter into this doesn’t feel like a good idea. Not after the accident, and what else might happen to him. I don’t want to make things worse. I don’t want to be the reason anything bad happens to Peter.
My phone beeps again. I open the message.
I just want to talk.
I type, I’m listening, and hit send.
Almost instantly, my phone beeps again.
In person. NO COPS.
Shit.
I know I’m treading in dangerous territory here, but one thing I know for sure is that I can’t risk endangering Peter. If going to see Trevor is what’s needed to finally put this whole thing to rest, then I don’t see any other option. So I reply:
Okay. Send me the details.
Chapter Twenty
Peter
I left the office early because I just wasn’t feeling up to it.
My guys out in Stonybrook are due back after camping out there for days. Trevor never showed. The mechanic eventually moved the Mazda to his yard, where he apparently has a collection of abandoned vehicles.
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