“All this waiting is killing me,” I groan.
My phone rings.Alan.“Oh my God.”
The ringtone I set for him cuts through the room.My fingers go cold.My stomach knots.I hold the phone up for Laird and Matthew like it’ll absolve me.“What do I do?Does he know everything?”
I bite my lip, forehead creasing.Both of them freeze.Matthew whistles low, and Laird’s gaze snaps to mine, then to the screen that lights up with Alan’s name.
“Don’t answer,” Laird says.
“He’ll keep calling.”I rub my face and set the phone on the table.
The call stops, but Alan won’t give up.It rings again.“I should answer.He’ll get suspicious if I just got a diamond ring and start ignoring him.”
“You know this all ends once Golden arrests him, right?”Laird says, raising an eyebrow.
I pause, then nod.“Yeah, you’re right.I’ll ignore him.”
Before I can breathe, the doorbell rings.We all freeze.“Is that Alan?”I whisper.
“Impossible,” Laird whispers, holding his breath.Matthew’s face drains of color.Laird straightens, every muscle sharp with tension.
We stand still, waiting.The bell rings again, insistently.
“Yes?”My mom walks out of the kitchen toward the door.
“Wait,” I hiss, rushing toward her.“Mom, don’t—” I raise my hand to stop her midstep.
“Come on, hide,” Laird says, dragging the drunk Matthew toward the bathroom.
24
Ghost from the Past
Fenella
Istand behind the front door.My mother stands behind me, forehead creased in confusion at my behavior, but she lets me be.I peek through the peephole.
Relieved, I exhale and open the door with a smile.“Jessy!”
“Merry Christmas!”he calls, arms wide.
We hug until our ribs protest.My mother groans at the sight of him.“You dare show your face now?”
“Sorry, ma’am.I have this quirky habit of arriving withoutl’invitation,” Jessy says with a little giggle and his unmistakable French lilt.
My mother isn’t a fan of Jessy.Not because she’s homophobic or anything personal against him, but because she’s convinced Jessy controls my schedule.Part of that is my fault; I’ve used him as an easy excuse for absences more than once, especially on Christmas Eve.
“This is for you, Mrs.Baxter.”Jessy lifts a large bag packed with premium food items.
“Oh, this is rare.Homemade spice honey and dried fruit, too.”My mother peers inside and gasps.
“Fresh from my mom’s farm,” Jessy says, smiling at her.
He’s brilliant.He remembers my mom’s request from their last video call.The fastest way into my mother’s heart is through the kitchen, so Jessy’s brought exactly the right thing.She hugs the bag and waves her hand.
“Oh, come in, dear.It’s cold out there,” my mother says, tugging his sleeve and ushering him inside.
Jessy winks at me and I smile—he knows he’s been forgiven.I close the front door and slip to the hallway bathroom.I knock.“Come out.It’s not Alan, it’s Jessy,” I call with a laugh.
