Page 127 of Broken Trust

Page List
Font Size:

“You’re on alert even if he isn’t doing anything?”

“Always.”

The thought makes my stomach twist.

Because I’ve never once gotten on an elevator and wondered whether I’d make it off. Never once walked through a parking garage and checked behind me or worried about whether someone slipped something into my drink at a bar.

The realization sits heavy in my chest.

“That sucks.”

“Welcome to being a woman.”

I shake my head. “No wonder y’all always travel in packs.”

A few moments pass.

Neither of us is really watching the program anymore.

I study her profile.

The way her eyes stay fixed on the screen. The way her fingers wrap around her glass.

Then a thought occurs to me.

“Would you ever want to live somewhere like that?”

She looks over. “Like where?”

“New York.”

Her answer comes instantly. “Me? Manhattan? Never.”

The certainty surprises me.

“Why not?”

She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t care to live in the sky, above an island so small that if everyone who lived there came outside at the exact same time, it would cause the entire infrastructure to collapse.”

I bark out a laugh.

She points her glass at me. “I’m serious. Living in an apartment that I can’t afford with nothing but my expensive shoe collection to keep me company? No thank you.”

She takes a sip from her glass.

“I do think it would be amazing for a weekend though. The museums. Restaurants. Central Park.” Her voice grows softer. “I bet it’s beautiful at Christmas. Ice-skating in Rockefeller Center, like in the movies. But living there?” She shakes her head. “No. It could never be home.”

“I don’t know, Doc. I could see you somewhere fancy. A penthouse. Luxury car. Some high-end sports medicine clinic, treating wealthy athletes.”

I can picture her in designer clothes and high-rise offices.

She shakes her head. “I don’t need any of that.”

“What do you imagine home to be?” I ask.

Her face lights up with a smile that reaches her eyes. “I want a family. A big one. A handsome, hardworking husband. A mess of feral kids.”

I raise a brow. “Feral?”