“Aimee, he literally pushed you down the stairs when you were pregnant with the last baby. Nobody changes that much. He will hurt you again.”
Aimee shook her head but didn’t speak.
“You have to protect yourself and you have to protectthisbaby.”
Thisbaby. Venetia didn’t mean to put the emphasis so baldly. Aimee flinched at her words.
“I know that sounds harsh, and I know it’s not your fault what happened the last time—it’s his fault—but you have to do this now for the new baby. You have to leave. Come stay with me. I’ll mind you. And I’ll mind the baby. We can do it together.”
Aimee eyed her. Venetia knew what the look meant.
“I’ve been clean for over a year, you know that.” This is almost but not quite true.
Aimee’s glance goes to Venetia’s arms, looking for evidence that her sister is telling the truth. But Venetia’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt.
“Trust me. Even at my worst, I’m a safer bet than he is.”
“But what about when you’re at work?”
Good, Venetia thought, she’s wavering.
“Felipe is always there when I’m at work, and I’m there when he’s at work—I’m still doing mostly closing shifts at Bar Four. We’re like ships passing in the night.” A smile. “You’d have on-tap babysitters.”
Aimee was quiet for a time. Venetia picked the scan from the coffee table and held it up.
“Aimee, do it for this little one.”
More silence. Venetia didn’t push her. Time ticked by, but she didn’t say a word. Aimee had always been like this, even when they were tiny. She needed to process, to decide in her own head.
Eventually, she spoke, her voice small. “OK.”
“OK? Really? I mean, OK, let’s do it. Let’s get you packed.” Venetia was off the couch and heading for the living-room door before Aimee could change her mind. “Where can I find a bag to pack your stuff?”
“No, no, no.” Aimee stood, waving her hands. “He’s due in”—she looked at her watch—“three minutes. If I start packing now, he’ll see the bag. Even if I hide it, he’ll know. He’ll find it.” Her voice quivers. “He can find anything.”
“Please, Aimee. I’ll stay here, I’ll look after you while you pack.”
“Tomorrow. As soon as he leaves for work in the morning. You come over, we’ll pack up everything I own. Bring your big suitcase.” A watery smile. “I’m not leaving without every single pair of heels. And you’re due in work soon, anyway, aren’t you?”
Her phone beeped and she glanced down.
“He’s sent another text.” Her brow furrowed and her mouth moved in silent words as she kept reading. She looked up. “He’s asking me something about a screenshot, some message that’s doing the rounds.” She shook her head. “God only knows what he’s on about, but you’d better go.”
“Aimee, please.”
The sound of a car door outside stopped her. Shit. Rory.
Venetia looked at Aimee. Panic slipped over her sister’s face.
“Vee, please, you have to go. He’s…he’ll…just go out the back. Go!”
Venetia stood in the living room. Not moving. She should grab Aimee now. Stand up to Rory, tell him what’s happening, march Aimee out the door.
She looked at her sister’s imploring face.
“Please, just let me do it my way. This is better, I promise.”
The sound of the key in the door.
