“Those aren’t foolproof. There’s a failure rate. It’s small, but it exists. And I need to know for sure. For the baby’s sake.”
“And if by some insane stroke of luck that baby is mine—what then?”
“Then we figure it out together.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “If that baby is mine, I want full custody.”
She stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor. Her hand went to her belly protectively and her eyes went wide withan anger that transformed her whole face. “You can’t be serious. You can’t just take my baby?—”
“I don’t want a liar raising my kids.”
The words landed and the room went silent. Camille stared at me with her chest heaving and tears running down her face and something in her expression that was equal parts fury and devastation. And then she said it.
“And I don’t want a murderer raising mine.”
I looked at her for a long second. She looked back. Neither of us blinked. She knew things about my family—about me—that most people didn’t because she’d been our lawyer before she’d been my woman. And she’d just reminded me of that in four words.
I chuckled. Picked up my garment bag. Tucked the watch case tighter under my arm.
“Take care of yourself, Camille.”
I walked out of the penthouse, took the elevator down, got in the Maybach and sat there in the parking garage for a minute. Peanut at the cemetery. Kacey getting closer to the truth. Camille dropping bombs in my dining room. Lyric slamming cabinets like a child.
Four women. Four different kinds of damage. And the only one I actually wanted to talk to was probably at home right now with her back against her apartment door, wondering why I didn’t kiss her.
I should’ve kissed her.
I started the car and drove to the hotel.
17
GUESS WHO
The nails were my idea.
Four of them, pushed into the rubber at an angle so they’d hold air just long enough for her to drive a few blocks before the tire gave out. I wanted her stranded. I wanted her standing on the side of the road with no spare and no plan, feeling helpless and small and desperate—the way she makes other people feel every single day of her miserable life.
What I didn’t plan on was him.
He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to pull over in that car and crouch down next to her tire and make phone calls on her behalf and open his passenger door for her like she was something worth rescuing. She’s not worth rescuing. She’s not worth any of it—the dinner, the attention, the way he leaned against his car waiting for her to stop being stubborn. I saw all of it. I saw his patience with her and it made me sick because I have never been on the receiving end of that tenderness. Not once.
And then they drove off together.
I sat in my car for a long time after that, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ached. I had wanted her stranded and alone and scared. Instead she ended up in his passenger seat,riding away from me into whatever the night was about to become for the two of them.
I went home and poured a glass of wine and sat in the dark and thought about what it felt like to watch someone take what belonged to you and not even know they were doing it. He didn’t know. She didn’t know. Neither of them had any idea that I was the reason they were together tonight, and the irony of that was so sharp it could cut glass.
I created this. My four little nails put her in his car. My plan backfired and gave them a night they wouldn’t have had without me.
That won’t happen again.
Next time I take something from her, I’m going to make sure he’s nowhere near it.
18
MEHAR
Quest ran through my mind like a song I hated but couldn’t stop playing. There was something about him that pulled me in and made me want more. But I shouldn’t want more. I was too much of a mess to be involved with anyone. Besides, he didn’t want me. He was just being nice. He saw I was in need and dragged me to a roller skating rink out of the kindness of his heart.
