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“Oh, I don’t want to put you out,” she says, slipping into her coat.
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do for my head of security.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Dr. Mathews.”
We make our way into the elevator and ride it downstairs to the parking garage. Once we’re buckled up in my BMW and I zip into traffic, I notice she shuffles in her seat and sighs.
I look over and ask, “What’s the matter?”
My question seems to jolt her from whatever is plaguing her thoughts. “The matter?”
“Yes. I’ve known you long enough to know that something is wrong.” I steal a quick glance her way. “And besides, it’s my job to know these things.”
She clears her throat a few moments later. “Excuse me for being so blunt, but what did that woman want?”
I can’t believe she’s still thinking about Juliet. Looks like she made quite the impression—the wrong impression, but an impression nonetheless. “She’s an old patient,” I explain.
“Yes, I know that. But why is she still wishing to speak to you?”
I could tell her to mind her own business, but I decide to try honesty on for size. “Ms. Harte is an old patient of mine. She’s also my ex…lover.”
I peer out of the corner of my eye, waiting for shock, disgust, horror, but all I get is, “You still haven’t answered my question.”
My mouth drops open.
“Don’t look so surprised, Dr. Mathews. There were many times the radio was turned up high whenever that tramp was in your office.”
My mouth drops open even farther. “Ms. Vale!”
She suddenly appears guilty and nervously tugs at her pearls. “Forgive me, I’ve said too much.”
I shake my head, unable to pry the smile from my face. “On the contrary. I was going to say that comment was worth a pay raise.”
She laughs. “So what did she want?”
I sigh, gripping the steering wheel tight. “She wants to make my life hell, Ms. Vale. She has from the moment I met her.”
“Why don’t you tell her to hit the road?”
“Because I am a damn fool.”
“Well, it’s not too late,” she encourages.
“I hope not. This all ends tonight. I just hope Madison can find it in her heart to forgive me,” I reveal, wishing it didn’t have to come to this.
“What has Madison got to do with this?”
My confession is bound to give Susanna a heart attack. “Ms. Harte is Madison’s stepsister.”
She shakes her head, frowning. “Oh, dear. And the child? Is it yours?”
Nothing passes her by. “Quite possibly.”
She shuffles in her seat. “This is quite the predicament you find yourself in.”
I snort. “Tell me about it. Any advice before I sign my own death warrant?”
“If I’ve learned anything in my forty-one years of marriage, it’s to just be honest.”
