It’s protective. He surrounded the baby and me with pillows and cushions so we wouldn’t get hurt. His voice dropped and changed into something almost animalistic when he said nothing would get into the house to hurt us tonight.
I don’t know why, but I believe him. Everything about him screams protectiveness and safety, warmth and generosity.
I’m still scared I’m getting duped. Trapped. But I sleep, because I just can’t keep my eyes open for another second.
WHEN I WAKE UP, I STAYstill for a long time. Trying to figure out where Matt is. Why the baby isn’t crying. Why the ceiling is a different shade of white, and I’m not in my usual shorty pajamas or sweats.
Everything comes blaring back.
Bruises. The tantrum, my fear for Ari’s life, and the realization that I let it happen. I let myself stay.
I’m angry and miserable at once.
No modern woman would stay and get hit, right? No self-respecting woman in 2025 would ever...
Lies. It doesn’t mean I’m weak. It means I was kind. Hopeful. Exhausted. In love.
It means I tried.
I hear Ari babbling softly, and she paws at my chest, hungry again. My breasts are tender, and I’m more than happy to feed her and relieve the pressure. And after that, I’ll sit and make a list of what I need. I’ll—
I’ll need to do a lot of things, scary things that I’m out of practice handling or never had to handle in the first place.
Jasper will help. He’ll watch the baby for you. He’ll...
I don’t finish the sentence in words, but there are thoughts, warm, slightly relieved thoughts.
I don’t know what I need exactly, but somehow (maybe foolishly), I believe Mr. Wainwright will help.
AFTER I FEED ARI, Ipace in my oversized shirt that’s got milk stains on the front. I need clothes. Breakfast. A shower.
You can’t just fall out of one man’s clutches into another, I scold myself, like I’m a bad superheroine who keeps getting captured.
“Can I come in?”
I swallow a yelp and pull Ari’s baby blanket up over my chest. Ari, helpful little thing, yanks it back and wraps it around a chubby fist. “Come in,” I say, positioning her and the blanket in a strategic location.
Jasper comes in, and my jaw drops. “Now, before you say anything, I had all these points to spend on my credit card. I didn’t pay a dime. So, here, I got some things for you and Ari.”
My mind can’t even comprehend what I’m seeing. The guy is dropping plastic-wrapped clothes on the bed like a human vending machine. Sweats. Comfy robe. Slippers. Jeans. Sweaters. Baby outfits in fall colors, footie-suits with little turkeys on them.
Then, he pulls out a phone. A boxy little black phone and the glossy white-and-blue box it came in. “What’s that?”
“If I may be totally age-ist, it’s an ‘old people phone.’ No internet. No provider. No camera. Just buy it outright and use it until it croaks. It’s not a bad price, honestly, and the number isn’t exactly traceable. I talked to my policeman buddy this morning, and he says it’ll show up as “Cell Trekker Caller,” and that’s it, unless you upgrade.”
I stare, open-mouthed. “There’s a-a moving van’s worth of stuff here!”
“No, just a few boxes,” Jasper shrugs, but maybe he looks a little shifty when he says it. “This way, you can call who you want, when you want, and Matt can’t find you. My police officer friend, Ardy Walsh, says you should come down today to file for an order of protection, and since your husband might be planning to file a missing person report, you might want to call him to let him know you’re okay and that you want to separate. That’s what Officer Walsh said. I don’t know as much about this as he does, so—”
“No. No, it’s right. I don’t want people to think I ran off with our daughter. I want to get this ball rolling. I want to get all the balls rolling. I... I slept on it, and I think I’d like to talk to Matt and feel him out. If he can finally see how bad things have gotten between us, then maybe I can go stay with my parents. If he’s ranting and raving, threatening me,” I shudder, “then I need to stay where he can’t find me for a little while.”
Jasper’s eyes stare into mine, unblinking for what I think is a freakishly long time. “Good. Stay here if you want. I know this is a safe place,” he finally says, and his big, toothy smile snaps back into place.
He looks a little different today. Stubbled. Hair mussed. Still handsome, but less like he’s camera-ready. It makes me feel a tiny bit better about the way I look. Despite my protests lastnight, I look at the clothes with appraising eyes. “I’ll pay you back,” I whisper.
“Okay, if you want. But I didn’t pay for it. The good people at the credit card points department did. I mean, it was either this or a new blender and a toaster oven, and my blender is awesome, and I never use a toaster oven.”
Well, he makes me smile, even though I feel rotten, and— “Wait! Why are you here? Don’t you have to work?”
