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“Thank you. I’m going to do that, but if I need you—”
“If you need me, I’m there. In a heartbeat.”
“Thank you,” I repeated, voice thick. “I love you, Gran.”
“Just as I love you, my Snug.”
I didn’t want to end the call, but I did. I backed out of the driveway and drove in circles around town, passing by all our usual haunts and Hannah’s typical stops. The grocery store I’d just left, the tailor, the pizza shop we frequented on the few nights Hannah didn’t feel like cooking, the post office—long since closed—and the playground where we took Lily to swing. Then I just cruised up and down the streets, aimlessly searching for her car. It was an older model. Not big enough, not safe enough. Why hadn’t I replaced it? Even if she argued. Even if she fought me. I didn’t care. Her safety was the most important thing.
Her and the girls.
Twisting my hands around the wheel, I hit the gas when the stoplight on Main Street in town finally changed. I didn’t know the baby’s sex. We were waiting just as she wanted. But just like that, I knew she was having a girl. It was clearly meant to be so I’d be thoroughly outnumbered.
I couldn’t wait.
My shoulders were so tense that pain radiated through my back the longer I sat behind the wheel. But I kept driving, hope against hope I’d see her familiar vehicle at one of our usual spots. I even checked home once more, just in case. Maybe I’d missed a note—
No, I had not. She’d left nothing for me on the refrigerator, or in the notebook we used to scribble notes about Lily, or anywhere else.
So, I dropped off the sodden container of ice cream along with the other groceries, keeping just the probably wilting tulips. But I needed to find her to give them to her as soon as possible.
This time, the flowers were meant for her and her alone.
On my next circuit through town, a suspiciously similar car to Hannah’s rolled out of the bay of the custom car shop next to Macy’s café. I brought my car to a stop at the curb with a squeal, blocking the exit. Grabbing the tulips, I climbed out of the car, only to see the person driving Hannah’s car—or a damn near double for it, right down to her recent addition of fuzzy pink dice that doubled in a pinch as a toy for Lily—was not Hannah.
As the tall, scruffy dude unfolded himself from the front seat, I fisted my hands, probably crushing the damn flowers. “Where is my woman?”
The guy cocked an eyebrow. “This ain’t the Desperate Singles app.”
I stared at the guy, not amused. “You’re driving Hannah Jacobs’ vehicle. I demand to know her location.”
“Depends.” He scratched his cheek, looking me up and down. “Are you some kind of criminal element? You look pretty sketchy.”
I looked down at myself. My suit was a little wrinkled, but it was a custom Hugo Boss, like many of my suits. Meanwhile, this individual had on a worn chambray shirt with a hole near the hem and jeans that looked like they’d been purchased in 1982. “I’m Asher Wainwright.” I hated the cold note in my tone, but it couldn’t be helped right now. “And you are?”
“Oh, fa-la-de-da. Should I genuflect now or later?”
I would’ve responded in kind except I’d happened to turn my head and glimpsed a honey-colored updo on a woman in the window of the café next door. I forgot all about pissing matches with grumpy mechanics—at least that was a reasonable guess, although serial killer was my second thought—and crossed the parking lot to the front door of the café at record speed.
“Hey, wait, Wainwright—”
The guy’s voice disappeared with the thunk of the coffee shop’s door behind me. Instantly, I heard the theme music of some horror movie, playing on a small screen in the reading nook. A bunch of people were clustered close, eating popcorn and squealing at the bloodthirsty maniac on screen.
Speaking of serial killers…
My gaze swung to Hannah and my fingers flexed around the already tortured stems of my flowers. I stalked toward Hannah’s table just as the door opened behind me and mechanic-serial killer dude lurched forward to seize my arm.
“Hey, wait a second—”
At his voice, Hannah spun around in her chair, her blue eyes widening comically. “Asher? Dare?” Then she frowned. “Why are you accosting him?”
“Good question.” I shook him off and straightened my tie. “He stole your car.” I knew good and well he probably had not done any such thing, but consider me pissed off.
She let out a giggle. An actual honest-to-goodness giggle. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her do that before. She still didn’t even smile all that often, never mind have to wipe the mirth out of her eyes. “Dare didn’t steal anything. He’s the part owner of the shop next door. My car started acting up and—” She stopped and zeroed in on the mangled tulips. “What are those?”
“For you.” I shoved them at her and took a quick glance at Lily in her high chair. She was sucking on a juice box and watching me owlishly, her mouth smeared with what looked like chocolate. “Asher,” she said distinctly.
That was a fight for another day.
