The dress is dreamy with an asymmetrical hemline to give it a touch of timelessness. I pull it on and pair it with the delicate Mary Janes that accompanied it because I don’t ever do sandals right after a dance.
There’s a note, too.
The handwriting’s strong and messy, and it makes my heart flutter.
Molly,
They’re flats in your size. Don’t worry, asked your mam. The dress is from me. Wear everything in the box. I’d tell you to look pretty, but that’s you.
Dec.
Carefully I fold it and tuck it in my dance bag, bracing myself for the action.
And even as I do, I’m fluttering and spinning inside.
Dec.
I like that.
Dec.
It’s intimate and like I know him. But I need to keep him as Declan, which is a name I fell for when he told me who he was in that Irish accent.
If he calls himself Dec, I’ll call him Declan.
Or lying cheater who’s somehow shoehorned himself into my life to spy on me for my mother.
“If he finds Daddy, then…” I murmur to myself. “It’s worth it to put up with him.”
Someone knocks on my door, and before I can answer, it opens.
For a moment I don’t move.
Dark curly hair buzzed on the back and left side with three earrings glittering in his ear.
But that’s not why I don’t move.
I stare at Leon.
He’s in a black suit, complete with a black shirt, no tie, and black boots on his feet. And there’s a big smile on his face as moves forward to hug me.
My limbs decide to move again and I hug him back, a nagging feeling plaguing me. He hasn’t tried to call me back since the night I ignored his call. Something didn’t sit right then and I’m not sure it does now. “Leon, where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, Marlowe, my uncle needed me and I got delayed getting to the truckyard that night. Family shit.” His voice drops. “The contact we were going to meet? He was a cop, and now he’s missing.”
Dead. Not missing. Dead, the cop’s dead.
“But don’t worry. I’ll find a way to help find your dad, okay?”
I suck in air, the hairs on the back of my neck springing to attention. “But I saw you outside the truckyard with the others who were shooting?—”
“Yeah. At the Murphy mafia. They’ve been trying to get in on our turf. I saw you with one of them. Just don’t get involved with those Irish assholes, okay? They’re bad news.”
I stare at Leon, my brain latching onto his words. “I don’t think that’s going to work out.” My heart thumps like a wild beast and I need to get my thoughts in order. “The Murphy family, at least one of them, will be around a lot more, so we need to be careful talking about my dad.”
“Why?” he asks, suspicion in his narrowed gaze.
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just focus on my dad.”
