I took a step toward him. He started the engine and drove off with a backward glance. Was he a henchman who was bad at covert surveillance, or did The Chameleon want us to know we were being watched?
Chapter Forty-Four
Haze
I woke up to atext from Frederica gushing about how wonderful last night’s dinner had been and how we must get another date in the diary. Despite further debating it when we got home, we were still no clearer to understanding if their interest in us was down to lust or bloodlust. But it had to be one of them, as there was no way anyone could sit through an evening of inane small talk and want to do it all over again soon.
Tonight we were going to my gallery for a drinks reception. Hamish had messaged repeatedly saying I needed to come, as he’d forgotten what I looked like, and we had things to discuss.
I’d slipped into a green minidress and made an effort with my makeup. It had taken longer than expected, and I’d had to rush to pickup. At the last minute, I’d taken Danny’s gun from its hiding place in Fox’s office and put it in my tote bag. People often kept mementos from an ex. A gun was more useful than sentimental. People were watching us, and they might need some encouragement to stop.
“I really respect how you wear whatever you want.” This was offered up by the blonde, thin-faced mother standing next to me at the school gates.
I shrugged. “Well, obviously.”
“Some women your age would freak out, thinking it was too young for them. But you just do what you want and that’s so brave.”
This crazy woman was congratulating me for wearing a minidress? Then I saw it. The triumph in her eyes. Oh, she was trying to shame me? Really? She was dissing me, and I had a gun in my bag?
The gates opened and children streamed out before I could retaliate.
And then I felt it.
The first tickle of self-doubt.
Fuck her.
This was new. I did what I wanted, I wore what I wanted, and I didn’t care what people thought. How was she piercing my confident armor of not giving a flying fuck? I wasn’t proud of much, but I was proud of being unapologetically me. Maybe I was tired. Feeling run-down. More vulnerable. Goddammit. To do everything I needed to do, I needed to believe in myself. That had always got me through everything.
My age was not going to be something to get insecure about.
I remembered an Instagram reel I’d watched the other day where a woman in her forties had compared trying to put eye shadow on her eyelids to coloring in a ball sack.
Is that what I had to look forward to? Ball-sack eyes?
No.
Absolutely not.
If I ever stopped liking what I saw in the mirror, I’d stop looking. Focus on my art. My children. Looks fade. Big fucking deal. I had plenty more awesome to enjoy. Unlike that miserable cow at the school gates trying to do others down.
I was still cursing that blonde bitch by the time I got back home. Jessica was arriving just as I pulled in. She never really smiled and didn’t even seem to like kids, but Bibi didn’t complainat seeing her, which was a positive sign. We couldn’t rely on Jenny and her parents for everything, and at least Jessica was a professional—she was being officially taught how to look after kids, while I was just winging it. I opened the door for us all and waved goodbye to Bibi and Reggie.
Fox was waiting for me outside the gallery. He didn’t see me approaching from the opposite side of the street, so I got to watch him looking for me. Handsome in his suit. He never felt the need to stare at his phone, to fidget. He smiled when he finally saw me. I kissed him long and hard.
“Good to see you too.” Fox tapped my nose.
Last night, I’d only had to wake up for Reggie once, and good sleep was really helping me like my husband more. Without meaning to, The Chameleon and Mike Martin had helped us. Killer Fox was coming back to me. I could see it in his eyes. They were clearer, more focused; there was less staring off into the distance. His fuck-up had unfucked him. Hah. I should be the one trying to write poetry.
We held hands and walked into the bustling gallery.
I took a glass of champagne from the waiter by the door and looked for Hamish. He spotted us from the other side of the room and rushed over, air-kissing us both.
“I have an update on Kristoff.”
I clenched my glass a little harder. “I hate that fucking waste-of-space copycat fraud. He’s a fucking disgrace, he should—”
“He’s dead.”
