“I’ll set the meeting,” I promise, and when I might argue I can’t make a difference, I know in my heart, as my parents’ daughter, I can. By being there. By protecting them. By, as he said, speaking up.
“Good,” he approves. “Call your father now and call me back.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious, Mia. You should know that by now. Call me back.” He disconnects.
I swallow hard. I’m being ordered around—no, I’m a puppet and Adam holds the strings. But that doesn’t change the fact that I like the idea of going to see the attorney with my father. I punch in my father’s number. He answers on the first ring. “Honey. Miss me already?”
“When do you see the attorney again?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. Why?”
“Can I go? And just offer support and give you my feelings on the situation?”
“If you can tolerate your mother. She’s going as well.”
“You told her.”
“I told her. She’s relieved to know what is going on. And as you said, she claims to be proud of me no matter what.”
“I’m glad. I knew that. I wish you knew that, too. What time is the appointment?”
“Four. Can you make it?”
“Yes. I’ll be there. Text me the address.”
“You got it. Love you bunches.”
“Love you, too.” We disconnect.
Almost immediately my phone rings with Adam’s number. He’s monitoring my calls. He has to be. “Hello,” I answer.
“Wear the dress tomorrow.”
“I told you, if I see Jess, Jess will know the brand and—”
“Tell her about me and the gift, Mia. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not hiding. And neither are you anymore. Good night, Mia.”
With that, he disconnects.
Chapter Sixty-One
If you cannot be positive, then at least be quiet.
—Joel Osteen
While I’d normally linger in my loft, enjoy my coffee and a little me time, this morning I can’t escape my place, my once-happy little place, fast enough. I’m out of my door, down the stairs, and on the sidewalk in a blink, as if a public place allows me to somehow become invisible again. I’m not sure I’ll ever be invisible again. I witnessed a murder. I didn’t report it.
I’m not me anymore. Not a me I recognize.
Eagerly merging with the bustle of morning walkers, I check the news yet again. Still nothing to note, not that I expected there would be. Kevin hasn’t even no-showed to work yet. I’m almost to the coffee shop when my phone buzzes with a text message, and dread fills me with the certainty that it’s from Adam. And, of course, it is:You look beautiful, Mia. Get rid of the glasses next. And remember: don’t turn Jess into a liability. Tell the truth. We met on the dating app. We can’t get enough of each other. We are always on the phone. I’m a man who wants to spoil you.
I halt and stop dead in my tracks, swallowing against the bile in my throat. He’s watching me right now. He’s here, somewhere in the crowd. He isalwayshere.
Feeling as if I might hyperventilate, I slowly breathe in and out, and then I place one foot in front of the other, almost as if I’m a robot.I’m being trained to be his robot, his puppet, his submissive. All these terms and words play in my mind, taunt me, promise me my future is this, his. I’m his slave. I’m Adam’s Eve. Lord, help me, and I mean that literally. I need help.
I arrive at the coffee bar earlier than expected, but Jess is already present. She waves me down from a booth, motioning to the coffees already on the table in front of her. And here we go. Me, looking like another version of me, that Jess will have plenty to say about. Nerves do this little tap dance in my belly as I approach her.
