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I watch old movies while wait for Ella. Halfway throughMarley and Me, I drift to sleep, Liam creeping into my dreams, then wake to my phone ringing again.
“Craig?”
“No, Liam.” He sounds put out. “Why did you think I was Craig?”
“He’s not brought Ella home yet.”
“Oh. Okay. I’ve waited for you to call me, but if she isn’t home I’ll call back later.”
I squint at the clock. “Shit, it’s ten o’clock. Where is he?”
“Being an awkward bastard probably,” replies Liam tersely.
A shiver trips across my neck and down my spine. He’s never late—not this late. “I’ll call him. Speak to you soon.”
There’s no reply from Craig.
After leaving the tenth voicemail in an hour, the uncomfortable prickling morphs into a stabbing anxiety. I call Marcella. “Is Craig with you?”
“Craig? No, why would he be here?” she retorts.
“I thought he might’ve dropped by with Ella to see you. He took her out today.”
“I haven’t seen him this week, sorry.”
Once me and Craig split, conversations with Marcella were never more than polite exchanges. Since the custody issue arose, my cool attitude to Marcella descended into full-blown frozen so it’s impossible to tell if she’s hiding anything from me.
“He’s not answering his phone. Can you try? Craig might answer if you call,” I ask as calmly as I can manage.
“I’ll call you back.”
An hour later, she hasn’t.
