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* * *
My heart skips a beat when the message arrives on my phone. He’s been texting me since last night but I still treat every time like it’s the first.
It’s hard to wrap my head around. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders since he took me to dinner. I believe him. I may be too trusting but he seemed genuine, his eyes spoke the truth, backed up his words.
The father of my child didn’t kill my mother. Every time I have that thought, I relax a little more. The man who killed them is the sheriff. Luigi Sandwell. Working with my stepmother.
Angelo’s first message, minutes after he left, was to tell me not to do anything with that information. Told me he’d deal with it when he came back. Made it clear the sheriff is not long for this world. That should scare me because it means Angelo’s a killer. Instead, it makes me feel closer to him. He protected me that night. He’ll get me justice.
He’s not stolen the box from me, not beat me up to find out its whereabouts. He simply told me to keep it safe, even told me he’s going to try to work out how to use it.
I can trust him. I think. I have to at least try, if not for my sake then for Jasmine’s.
I’m not sure how she’ll feel about him coming back into her life. With the type of kid she is, I could bring an alien home with three heads and say this is your father and she’d shrug, say cool, and then offer to watch Paw Patrol with him.
The thought of Angelo on the couch watching TV with Jasmine and me warms my heart.
Maybe we could make this work.
Life does seem to be improving for me. Winnie has vanished like she never existed. The boards have been removed from my bookstore and I’m up and running again. I sit at the counter and read Angelo’s message. “Got a meeting about the box. Will be over this evening to discuss further.”
Cara appears in the doorway, carrying a box of her own with a bow on it. “Try this one,” she says. “Call it a celebration cupcake.”
I undo the bow and bite into the fluffy delight inside. “What is this?” I ask. “It’s amazing.”
“Strawberry and sherbet. Got the recipe from a British cookbook from the seventies. You like?”
“I very much like. Can I have fifty more where that one came from?”
“You can have one more and then I want you to eat a proper meal.”
“Yes, Cara.” I grin at her and she chuckles. “Angelo’s coming by tonight. I’m thinking of letting him meet Jasmine.”
“You’re sure you can trust him?”
“How sure can you be of anything? I’ve got to try, for her sake. I don’t want her to spend her whole life never knowing her father.”
“But you said yesterday you were worried he’d up and disappear.”
“I know but I’ve got to try, haven’t I? What would you do?”
“Be careful. You don’t want Jasmine getting hurt. Or you. You don’t know a lot about him other than his favorite book is the same as yours.”
“That’s a good start. Someone just went in your place.”
She glances out the window. “To be continued.”
She heads out, and I turn back to my phone, typing a reply. “See you tonight,” is the best I can manage after typing and deleting for ten minutes. I want to tell him not to hurt Jasmine. I want to ask him if he’s going to walk out on us. There’s no point. Time will give me the answer I need. What kind of person is he? What kind am I?
Why do I want to rip my clothes off and jump on him every time I see him? Even before he told me what happened on the night of the party? Is there something wrong with me? I ache when he’s away, miss him like he’s a part of me. Am I just obsessed because I can dream about the person I want him to be?
We’ll both know the answers to all these questions soon enough.
* * *
I’m switching the lights off when he appears outside. I watch him climb out of his car and walk up to the door. I unlock it to let him in. “You’re early,” I tell him as he ducks to fit in through the door.
“You’re not safe to walk home until we get this situation resolved.”
