“If I ever, by some miracle, get married, I promise you’ll both be bridesmaids. Okay?” I tell her.
But that dream isn’t in my reach. As much as I’d love to. To have someone to go home to every day. To talk about everything with. To enjoy life with.
“Yay!” Bella claps.
“Shall we dance? I haven’t in ages!” Hallie asks.
“Hell yeah!”
They drag me onto the dance floor, music swallowing us whole. For the rest of the night, the ghosts stay quiet.
I’m laughing. Drinking. Moving.
And for the first time in a long while, I’m excited about what comes next.
Maybe… I really am getting through this.
I nearly trip through the door by the time the twins drop me off at home. I wave them off, slam it shut, and lock it behind me.
Maybe I need a pet. A dog. I love it when Hallie’s golden retriever, Bertie, stays over. The house feels less hollow then.
But I work too much. It wouldn’t be fair.
Perhaps I should have taken the bartender up on his offer.
I kick off my heels and pad into the kitchen, filling a glass with water. I stand there longer than necessary, staring out the front window at the street.
It’s quiet. A nice area. Expensive without being flashy. Not where the truly rich live. I like it that way.
I swallow a painkiller and rest my hip against the counter.
Movement across the street catches my eye.
I squint, pulse jumping, scanning the shadows more carefully.
Nothing.
Probably nothing.
I grab my phone and open my notes, addingcall Declanto tomorrow’s list. I only have one crappy camera currently. And half the time, the feed doesn’t even connect to my phone properly. It’s one that came with the house when I bought it.
The Quinns have been on my case about this for months, but I always refuse. Telling them I technically do have cameras. The same way I did for my dad when he called me after I first moved into this place.
I don’t trust them not to keep tabs on me. I don’t want my privacy invaded. I want a normal life. Declan and Conan have assured me that I’m part of their family and they will be there whenever I need them. Like at my galleries.
But since the Russian guy at my showing, I hate to admit it, it rattled me more than I wanted it to. It threw me back into thinking about my dad and the way he lives his life. I didn’t like how that man looked at me, like he knew who I really was.
I refuse to feel unsafe in my own home.
Cameras will help. A proper setup.
I’d rather be safe than sorry.
I tell myself that as I drain the glass and turn off the lights.
Still, I double-check the locks before heading upstairs.
Just in case.
