There’s still a sad, tiny smolder from that initial spark in my stomach.
He’ll turn around. I know he will.
The truck whirs to life and a tiny gasp that only I can hear croaks from the back of my throat while I wait for him to realize he’s making a mistake. I inhale the bitter smoke trailing out of the truck’s muffler and stare at the back of the SUV as Officer Patton turns the wheel, inching back onto the crowded street.
“He’s…he’s leaving,” I mutter to myself, looking around at all the faceless people brushing past us on the sidewalk. “He’s leaving?”
“Yeah,” AJ replies. “Did you want him to stay or something?”
I swallow the cold air and shuffle toward the back of the SUV. “Wait…he didn’t even…”
“He didn’t even what?” AJ asks, pulling my arm.
I try to yank it from his grasp, but he holds it tighter. “He didn’t…wait…wait. That’s it?”
A sad wheeze crawls from my chest as I run out of breath. “Come back.”
“Come back? Come back for what? The man gave us a slap on the wrist. Come here and put my jacket on before you get sick. I’m calling Blake to come get us.”
“But he didn’t even… he didn’t?—”
“Didn’t what? Damn. Spit it out,” he grits out.
I pause and try to relax my mouth. “He…he…”
“Hegot you back to me after you fuckin ran off, and he didn’t take you to jail for wandering around looking like a prostitute in this too little dress with your ass hanging out. Now we can sweep all of this shit under the rug before Coach hears anything about me standing on a public sidewalk talking to a city cop.”
“But he didn’t even ask me what happened,” I utter under my breath.
“What are you talking about? You got drunk and fell down the stairs. That’s what happened. Don’t turn this into something else.”
Somewhere in the distance, fireworks explode and light up the dark sky.
I turn back toward the honking cars lining the street just as a sleek Rolls-Royce pulls behind Officer Patton’s truck and his back bumper disappears into the chaotic New Year’s Eve traffic.
PART ONE
CHAPTER
ONE
Nine Months Later
Manhattan Safe Harbor
Manhattan, New York
LOVIE
Yesenia’s cubiclesmells like lemon Pledge and mangú. Her wet curls dangle over her brows as she dusts a smattering of crumbs from her fingers onto a napkin.
Her cubicle is just a speck in a sea of other grey cubicles on the seventy-eighth floor of the Liberty Tower where Manhattan Safe Harbor shares a space with a tech startup and a temp agency. A loud medley of accents and languages blend together even though Yesenia says only on-call staff work on Sundays.
I’ve passed the building occasionally while walking with AJ, but it never stood out because every building in Manhattan is just a dark slab of concrete towering over me. But sometimes the people here are like bursts of light in a dark room when I catch a hint of a southern twang in one of their voices or a smell emanating from one of their bodies that reminds me of home.
Yesenia tilts to the side in her chair and looks over my shoulder before bending down to grab her Coach tote by its frayed leather handles. “You know I can lose my job if Sarah finds out I did this, right? We’re supposed to keep a paper trail of every client case we work on.”
“If it happens, it’ll be because you or Jodie said something. I think we covered our tracks,” I reply, wrapping an arm around my throbbing middle. “And didn’t we talk about paying that micromanaging heffa no mind when she’s being nosy?”
