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I escort Alexis Martin—an abuse survivor—to the door of my office and usher her out while my cell phone vibrates in my pants pocket like it’s auditioning for a spot in the latest sex toy catalog.
It’s been going off for the past five minutes. A few inches toward the center, and the thing would have knocked this audition out of the park, especially with the heat radiating off it. Lately, my cellphone just heats up like a miniature furnace for no good reason.
I close the office door before George can sneak out, then pull out my phone. The moment I answer the phone, I hear a click, then silence.
Oh great. Creepy guy again. Maybe I should let Nico secure my lines instead of stubbornly digging my feet in.
Before I can hang up, though, Maria’s frantic voice comes across the line.
“—won’t listen, Sophie. I’ve told him so many times; I just know he won’t believe me,” she goes on without taking a breath. “He’ll think I’m seeing things again. But now I have to do something.”
“Okay, Maria, I’m listening,” I say as I take a seat in my chair which is still parked next to the sofa where I’d been holding Alexis’s hand for the past half hour. Alexis is a survivor, but sometimes, survival is hard.
“Tell me what’s happening,” I gently prod, assuming she’s referring to Nico’s dismissive attitude.
“I tried leaving you a voicemail yesterday, but your line was all clicks and weird sounds.”
She has my full attention now, although I’m puzzled. I hadn’t received any voicemail.
“Oh? I’m sorry Maria, I didn’t get it. But I’m listening now.”
“I know I’ve been… I’ve been panicky since we got here. And he keeps telling me to calm down. But you know me; I can be impulsive. I have been in the past.”
“I know that, but you’ve also been working really hard on your grounding techniques, so if you’re telling me something’s wrong, I’m going to listen.”
Maria’s journey with anxiety and borderline personality disorder hasn’t been smooth. What she really needs is a solid circle of support and empathy, but for that to happen, she needs to let people in on her diagnosis, starting with Nico. Trouble is, she’s still struggling to accept it herself.
“Talk to me, Maria,” I prompt her again.
Maria exhales, the sound carrying the weight of her fears. “Okay, look, there was this man at the park today. The same man who always seems to pop up wherever Victoria and I are. He didn’t do anything outright, but his gaze, Sophie... it just made my skin crawl.”
“He was watching you? Are you sure he’s not one of Nico’s guards?” Even I have noticed how heavily patrolled my street has become in the past month, so I’m sure Nico would have people looking out for Maria over there.
“No, he’s not one of the guards. I know all of them.”
“Do you think he might have recognized you then?” I roll my chair closer to the desk as another click comes through the line. Is it weird that I never noticed my phone making this odd noise before Nico told me he bugged it, or is Nico’s mild paranoia just rubbing off on me?
“Oh, I’m sure he knows who we are,” Maria whispers. “Besides, he wasn’t looking at me today; he was looking at Victoria.”
Shit.
“I know it sounds crazy, but the look reminded me of Leo—how he’d inspect batches of guns and other weapons. I know that look, Sophie. And today, this man had that same intensity, all while talking on his phone.”
Alright, this doesn’t sound like Maria flying off the deep end.
“Where are you and Victoria now?” I’m already sliding my desk phone closer.
“We’re in a motel—I didn’t feel comfortable staying in the house anymore. After we left the park, I drove us around until I was sure he wasn’t following us. Then I came here and checked us in under different names.”
“Perfect. You’re doing everything right so far,” I reassure her. “Just stay on the line. I’m going to put you on hold and make a few calls, and then I’ll come back to you, okay?”
Her response is a quiet “Okay,” punctuated by a shaky breath that speaks volumes. Despite everything, I can’t help but feel a swell of pride for how far she’s come.
I pick up my office phone and dial Nico’s number. As his phone rings, I attempt to stamp the frisson of excitement that streaks through me. It’s disgusting how keyed up I’ve been since he told me he loves me last night. The man hadn’t even given me a chance to say it back.
Like it didn’t matter because he already knew I’d fallen for him too? Cocky jerk.
Although maybe if I wasn’t bawling my eyes out I might have had the presence of mind to say it back. I still can’t believe I did that, though. I think it was the shock. Must be. I’m way tougher than that.
