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Jake hardly talkedto me on the flight, but that’s okay because I didn’t need him to. Jerome was excited to be on the plane, and so far, he hasn’t asked about his father once. Which I am thankful for.
“Where will I go?” I ask as the plane taxis to a stop.
Jake stands and puts on his jacket.
He glances at Jerome, then back to me. “Joey paid me back, so you are his issue now.” My jaw drops as he nods to the tarmac outside. I look through the window and see Joey leaning against his car. With anxious energy, I get Jerome ready, and we step off the plane. Joey’s sunglasses cover his eyes, but I can feel his piercing stare. He doesn’t move as I walk over and stop in front of him.
“You paid for me?” I ask, confused with a little hope trickling in.
At first, I don’t think he will respond, but eventually he does. “No, you owe me half a million. Which I expect back.” He glances down at Jerome. “With interest.”
“I can pay you back,” I reply.
“I know you can.” He opens the car door, and when I look inside, there’s a child’s booster seat already set up. “Courtesy of Sailor,” he tells me.
“Does she hate me?” I ask. I took a liking to her and had hoped to be friends.
“No. Sailor hardly hates anyone, so you’re in luck.” I put Jerome in the seat, then shut the door and glance back at Joey.
“Do you hate me?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
My breath hitches at his response, but I don’t say a thing as he opens my car door, and I slide onto the seat. When I look up, he doesn’t meet my eyes, just shuts the door and walks around to his side. We drive in silence, and Jerome falls asleep in the back seat.
When we arrive at Joey’s place, he doesn’t speak as he gets out. He comes around and opens my door for me before he returns and opens Jerome’s door.
“I can get him.”
“I’ve already got him.” He picks him up, and Jerome rests his head on Joey’s shoulder as if it is the comfiest place on earth.
I think it just may be.
The door opens, and Abigail is standing there, dressed in skimpy clothing, her hand on her hip as she looks at us. “So this is my nephew.” She looks at Jerome, but Joey doesn’t stop for her. He goes up the stairs and straight into his room. I follow him, unsure what is happening, to find him laying Jerome down on his bed.
“I’ll take the couch,” he states, then walks past me, not even glancing my way. I manage to take a deep breath and walk over to the bed, noting that everything of mine is still here. He hasn’t changed or moved a single thing. My perfume still sits on the bedside table along with my calendar. My clothes are still in his closet, and his wedding ring is on top of one of the chest of drawers.
I pick it up and slide it into my pocket.
I had to drop mine on the side of the street so Scott wouldn’t know, and I regret that with every fiber of my being.
The door opens, and Abigail steps in. She doesn’t bother announcing herself as she walks farther into the room and stands near the bed, watching Jerome.
“I don’t like you. You’re aware of this, right?” she asks. Her hand reaches out, and she touches Jerome’s face. “He looks so much like Papa.”
“He doesn’t,” I bite back. “He looks like me.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. “You also look like Papa.” She shrugs. “It’s why I could never understand how you could have killed him.”
“I had to,” I tell her.Why can’t she take my side on this without the ugly explanation?“And I would do it again.”
“Yeah. So I heard it’s because he would sell you off. That’s not really true now, is it? I was thinking, you used to sneak out all the time.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Papa would complain that you did.”
