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“Who is they?” I ask him.

“How the fu—” He eyes the kid. “—heck should I know? Do you want to chance your kid getting sick and face your wife’s wrath?”

“Nope,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.” I chuckle and lean over to kiss Charlie’s head, breathing him in. “I need you to tell me what your favorite snacks are so we can have them in the house for you.”

“Oh.” He blinks at me. “Mildred’s cookies. That’s what I have after school. And sometimes she makes fresh applesauce.”

Mildred.

Rina looked devastated when the woman left the house this morning.

“Are there other cookies you like?” I ask. “That you can get at the store?”

My child wrinkles his nose. “I mean, I guess. But Mildred makes the best ones. Sometimes she puts sprinkles on them. She says those are the fancy ones. And we have to go home by Friday.”

Spider and I share a look.

“Why’s that?” I ask him.

“Because Mildred makes homemade tacos for dinner on Friday and that’s my favorite.”

“I enjoy tacos,” Spider says, and I narrow my eyes at him as he slides the sandwich over to my boy. “One turkey sandwich for you, fine lad.”

Charlie takes a bite. “It’s good. Maybe Mildred can show you how she does it so it’s even better.”

Why do I think that I need to get Mildred here?

Sixteen

RINA

The house is gorgeous.

The pool, the playroom, Charlie’s bedroom are all perfect for him, and he’s going to love it here.

The kitchen is a dream. I think I even saw a butler’s pantry. Our bedroom suite is something out of a magazine.

And I can’t stop crying.

I spent at least thirty minutes huddled in the corner of the shower, fully clothed as the hot water beat down on me, and I simply cried. I can’t stop, even now. I finally stood up and peeled the sopping clothes off, took a shower, and changed into brand new sweats and one of Carson’s white T-shirts because it smells like him, and then I huddled in our bed and kept crying.

I can’t stop.

My head aches, my eyes are practically swollen shut, and I’m probably headed for dehydration, but fucking hell.

Mother. Fucking. Hell.

I think the past couple of weeks just caught up to me big time.

Because not only is my husband back from the dead, which let’s be honest, is enough to knock any girl off her game. But I gave up my job, found out that my asshole of a sperm donor has known where I’m hiding with my son for God knows how long, and now I’ve had to uproot my boy and relocate back to Vegas.

Where it all began.

Where some of my worst memories and nightmares live.

Oh, and did I mention that I had to leave Mildred, the one constant in our lives, behind as well?