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“How can you know that?”
Cara reappears with the coffee. “Here we are,” she says, handing me a mug. “Get that down you.” She looks at Angelo. “Sorry, I didn’t know how you wanted yours.”
“I’m leaving anyway,” he replies. “Soon as I get hold of the box. Where is it?”
“The box? Is that all you care about?”
He takes a step toward me, his face darkening. “You don’t seem to realize the danger you’re in. While the box is here, your life is at stake. Give it to me, leave it with me. The people I’m dealing with will come for me, not you. Trust me, I’m doing this to help you, not to steal from you.”
“You know what, if that’s all you care about, I’ll get it for you.”
I get to my feet, pushing past him and Cara, heading through to my room. I crawl under the bed and lift the loose floorboard, reaching inside to the three boxes of Milk Duds that I put under there. That’s not counting the other six I’ve dotted about the house.
I hear a creak and turn my head. Angelo’s feet are visible next to the bed. “Nice room,” he says.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Jasmine was grumbling. I checked in on her. She’s fast asleep. Gorgeous little thing.”
“I know she is.”
He lifts the bed like it’s made of cotton candy, looking down at me and then at the hole in the floor. “That’s what you consider a safe location, is it?” he asks, a frown forming on his face. “How am I supposed to know you’re giving me the right box?”
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
I hand it to him before getting to my feet as he puts the bed back in place. “Just for the record, don’t walk in on my daughter without my permission.”
“Two things,” he replies. “One, she’s our daughter. Two, don’t ever tell me what to do.”
“Get out.”
“Oh, I’m going. Your emotions are heightened so I will forgive you the way you’re speaking to me. Be careful though, I’m not always this forgiving.”
He takes the box and walks out of the bedroom. I feel on the edge of tears and I’m not even sure why. I sit on the bed, my head in my hands. I get the feeling I’m never going to see him again.
The front door opens and closes, and then I hear footsteps. I look up and Cara is standing there. “You all right?” she asks.
I nod and then shake my head. “Are all men assholes?”
“Not all of them. I hear the Dalai Lama does some good things occasionally.”
I lay back on the bed, groaning. “I may have just done the stupidest thing in my life.”
“Well, I’m not one to pry but if you want to talk about it, you can.”
I sit up again. “You said you came to talk to me about something. What was it?”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter now.”
“No, go on. It might distract me.”
“Well, I wanted to ask you about something that might be a little embarrassing.”
“What is it?”
“I saw you in the bookstore window last night.”
“Oh?” I try not to look concerned. “You did?”
