“What’s his name?” My heart was beating so fast, the hard snaps of sound traveled to my ears.
“I’m not giving you details. Let’s take it one step at a time.”
A dark laugh fell from my lips, one that let her know not to test me. “You think I’m letting you walk out the door without knowing you’re safe first?”
“He’s safe. You wouldn’t have let me cater his office party if he wasn’t, right?” she chided, taking Chiara from me while letting out a heavy sigh. “Forget it, I’ll find someone else to watch her tonight.”
What do I do? I gave her my back, cupping my mouth as I played out the possibilities. If I told her to choose me instead of this corporate dickhead, I’d be lying. Because I wasn’t an option. I’m not a choice.
I looked down at the ink on my right arm. Good versus evil battled on my skin, and it was a reminder of how I’d spent years taking on the role of judge, juror, and executioner on more than one occasion.
My fingers curled into my palm as I tried to reclaim my sense of control that waned every second we were alone. “Fine,” I relented, facing her. “I’ll watch Chiara. Go on your date.”
She peered at me with curious eyes, as if worried she was walking into a trap. Maybe she was? I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. “Okay, well, I’m meeting him downstairs in ten minutes, and you’re sweaty. Maybe shower first?”
“He’s not coming to the door?”
“So you can give him the third degree?” She faked a laugh. “No, like hell am I letting him come up here.” She waved her hand like a directive. “Go. Shower. And then come back to me.” Her tongue flicked between her lips for a quick second, and I wanted to catch it with mine. “Come back here, I mean. Please.”
I studied the two of them for a few agonizing seconds, then stalked away from her, hating myself for allowing this moment to happen. But once in the living room, I stopped in my tracks at the sight of the bookshelf, and memories peeled open in my mind.
One of Bianca on her favorite swing at our family home in Long Island with a book on her lap and a bright smile.
Another memory of one of her handwritten letters she’d sent while I’d been deployed. She’d hated emails, preferring the personal touch of ink to paper.
My stomach tightened as I thought back to a few weeks before she’d been viciously killed, when she sent me a selfie holding up a magazine, which housed her first published piece of fiction.
“Technically, it’s mostly nonfiction,” she’d told me. “In part, a real-life love story. But no one needs to know that.” I never did have a chance to ask her whose love story it’d been, because she was murdered.
I closed my eyes at the last memory. Her gravestone. REST IN PEACE. My brothers and I knew she’d never have peace if her killer walked the earth. Since the justice system failed to do its part, we’d had no choice but to handle it ourselves.
“You okay?” Maria asked from behind, catching me by surprise.
I opened my eyes, glanced over my shoulder to quietly nod my lie, then left.
Once at my place, I quickly showered and changed. I put on gray sweats, slipped into a pair of kicks, then snatched a white tee from the dryer, since I’d yet to put away my laundry. Hiding my wet hair with a backward ball cap, I returned to Maria’s so she could go on her date. Kill me now.
Maria was waiting in the living room with Chiara on her lap. Her eyes went to my crotch, and her lips flatlined.
“What?” I looked down, checking to ensure I wasn’t hard, and the fact she was going on a date had me about as limp as possible, so no, that wasn’t it.
“Gray sweats. Backward hat.” She wedged her lip between her teeth and stood. “You do that on purpose?”
“Do what on purpose?” I had no clue what she was talking about, but if my pants and hat were the cause of her doing that sexy thing with her lip, sign me the fuck up, I’d do it every damn day.
“She’s been having trouble falling asleep lately,” Maria said instead while handing over Chiara.
“I know, you’ve barely slept in weeks.”
“No rocking her to sleep. Just put her in the crib with Stuffy, her favorite bear, and leave the door cracked. I know it’ll be hard, but she’ll fall asleep after crying a bit.”
Watch Chiara beg for me and not pick her up? Ha. No chance. “Sure.” Another lie. I was on a roll tonight. “Can I at least know where you’re going to dinner? Time you think you’ll be home?”