Page 24 of After the Chase

I close my eyes, listening to Noah breathe beside me. Tomorrow, the world will keep turning as though nothing happened.

Two men are dead and my husband killed them. But the most terrifying discovery I made today wasn't the truth of what Noah is, it was what I'm becoming.

CHAPTER SIX

NOAH

One Week Later - London

The call comes while Chase and I are having breakfast at a small coffee shop in London. My phone vibrates on the table. Unknown number, Boston area code.

I answer. "Hello?"

"Mr. Bryson? This is Patricia Whitmore from Whitmore and Associates. I'm calling regarding your mother, Eleanor Bryson."

"What about her?"

"I'm very sorry to inform you that she passed away three days ago from a heart attack. It was sudden."

"Okay, what do you want from me?"

There's a pause and I’m guessing the lawyer clearly expected a different reaction. "Well, there are estate matters to handle. Your mother left a substantial inheritance. We'll need you to come to Boston to sign paperwork, make arrangements for the funeral."

"Fine, I'll handle the paperwork, but the funeral is nothing to do with me. You can deal with that."

"Mr. Bryson, I understand this is difficult, but..."

"It's not difficult, I was clear with what I said. E-mail the paperwork and I will let you know when I can be in Boston."

Another pause, what exactly is she waiting for? For me to collapse in tears? So dumb. I cared as much about the woman who birthed me as she did me, which was nothing.

"Of course. I'll send everything over today."

I end the call and return to my coffee, noticing that Chase is watching me, his expression carefully neutral. "Funeral?"

"My mother died. Gotta go to Boston to sort out the finances."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Err, because your mother died."

“Everyone dies. She was a stranger who happened to give birth to me. To be honest, I’m not sure why she even named me. We barely knew each other.”

Chase sets down his fork on his plate of half eaten eggs on sourdough.

"You feel nothing."

"No."

"Not even curiosity about the funeral? About seeing family?"

"Family? I killed my dad and I have no family, just you. And there is no funeral. I’ve no intention of dealing with that kind of circus."

“Noah, lower your voice, there are people around,” he whisper shouts and I shrug, not caring.

“So? They should mind their business.”