I shifted Emma to the other hip, too tired to teach him a valuable lesson on stereotyping pissed-off moms. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’m going to need some snacks for my kids. And some milk.”
“Of course.”
I wasn’t sure I could trust these two, so I clarified. “And the snacks can’t be like caviar. I’m talking fruit. Crackers. Normal people stuff.”
Doug failed to suppress his judgment. No doubt he hadn’t expected to run into Bill Carver’s scruffy Cinderella on this fine night. “Certainly, madam. If we can’t scrounge something up, I’ll have the valet make a run to 7-Eleven.”
His manager shot him a look that promised he wouldn’t come out of this unscathed, and rightly so. He’d been rude for no other reason than the fact that I didn’t fit the polished, upscale image he was used to. This was the part of privilege I didn’t miss.
The manager snapped his fingers, and a bellhop appeared instantly. He loaded our meager belongings onto a cart and ushered us toward the elevator. As the doors closed, I caught my reflection in the mirrored panel. My hair had fallen loose from the ponytail, my mascara was streaked, and I looked… done. It was embarrassing, humbling. After I’d left with the kids, I’d driven aimlessly, trying to figure out where to go. I had no friends outside of Scott’s, no family I could call, no money, no place to stay. But I still had my maiden name, something I hadn’t leveraged for six years. Then again, I’d never needed to… until tonight.
The elevator hummed as it climbed. I let my head rest against the wall.
“Big day, huh?” the bellhop said, trying for small talk.
“Big and bad,” I agreed, not offering anything further. The elevator door opened, and we followed him out.
“Sorry to hear that,” he replied. “But maybe this will make you feel better.”
He unlocked the door, and it opened to a glorious two-bedroom suite with floor-to-ceiling windows, completely inappropriate white carpet, and an original art piece hanging under its own gallery light.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
I almost said,A husband who isn’t breaking the law, but went with, “We’re good, thanks.” I checked his name on the tag. “I’m sorry, Warren, but I don’t have any cash on me.”
“Not to worry, madam,” he said. “Get some rest, and hold your babies close.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and I could finally breathe. The kids were safe, the door was locked, and there was a roof over our heads. I ushered Keith and Emma into the bathroom, determined to wash the germs away before allowing them to touch a thing in this place.
Thirty minutes later, they were clean and warm and snacking on the food room service had brought up. I held it together for the kids, needing to get them asleep so I could focus on what came next.
Emma was out the moment she was tucked in, but Keith needed assurances.
“Mommy, when are we going home?”
Yes, that was the question. “I’m not sure yet,” I said softly, kissing his temple. “But until then, let’s have an adventure.”
He smiled, small and hopeful. “Is this a castle?”
“No,” I said, glancing around the ornate room, “but it looks like one, doesn’t it?”
His little brow furrowed with worry.
“What’s wrong, Bug?”
“I want my daddy.”
His request tore me up inside. Keith and Scott were inseparable; best friends in every way. How could I deny him that? How could I explain that the man he adored had made choices that put us all at risk?
I smoothed his hair, concealing the fear. “You’ll see him soon,” I whispered, even though it felt like a lie.
He blinked up at me. “What if there’s a dragon? Who will protect us?”
“I will, baby,” I said, forcing a smile as my voice broke. “I will.”
I waited until Keith’s breathing evened out before slipping into the bathroom. The moment the door shut, the dam broke. The tears came silent and slow at first, then harder, until I was shaking, gripping the counter just to stay upright.
Anger rose through the grief, sharp and burning. How could Scott do this to us? To lie and steal and pay off lowlifes like Marty? I’d trusted him with everything—my love, my life, our children. I’d known something was wrong for a while and had questioned him not only on the missing money but also on his sketchy, secretive behavior. I should have pushed harder. Demanded answers. And now that the truth was out, how could I ever trust him again?
