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I step further into the room and sit down in the center of the carpet to finish my coffee. I can’t explain it, but being here in this room makes me feel that much closer to my son. Which is ridiculous, right? It’s just an empty room. One he didn’t even get to use.
I place my mug down beside me and lean back onto my hands as I begin picturing where all the furniture was and how I would have decorated it, when I notice the closet door is slightly ajar.
My curiosity gets the best of me and I get up and make my way toward the closet. I open it up to find a basket filled with all the important things, like the first ultrasound picture, and one of the four positive pregnancy tests I’d taken all those months ago. I smile to myself as I take them in and make a mental note to thank Tank for not getting rid of these.
Searching through the basket, I pull out the very first outfit I bought for my little guy. It was right after the doctor’s appointment when we found out we were having a boy. I immediately dragged Tank into the first baby store we came across. He went on and on about how he didn’t want to be out baby shopping, but the second I pulled the tiny little outfit from the rack and held it up to him, a massive smile took over his handsome face. That moment will forever be ingrained in my mind, and I’m thankful for it because it was another precious moment I was given by my son.
An idea strikes, and I rush around the house to find a bag before striding straight back into the nursery. I put the ultrasound, the piss stick, and the outfit into the bag, and I place it in the hallway next to my handbag, which is when I realize the time.
I’m going to be late.
Feeling great about my idea, I rush down to my bathroom and get started on drying my hair and putting on a little makeup. A few minutes later, I decide this will have to do, and I slide my heels on.
Grabbing my handbag and the bag of baby things, I go to leave when I remember the photo Dani took of Tank and me when I was about four months pregnant. He had his arms wrapped around me and those big hands resting on my stomach while I looked up at him. Without even a second of hesitation, I dump my bags and run around the house like an idiot searching for the photo.
Finally, I head into the garage, checking and double-checking the house is properly locked up. After all, I just had my house scrubbed clean, I wouldn’t want any crazy stalkers coming in and rubbing their nasty pussy juices all over my furniture again. Hell, knowing my luck, the bitch will break in and take a shit in one of my handbags.
After arriving at my office, I push my way through the door for the first time in three months, and I have to say, it kind of feels weird to be back here again. I dump my bag on the floor and take a look around. It’s instantly clear that my office is not the way I left it. While everything is neat and tidy, it’s also a big mess.
The first thing I notice is the new door and computer. My corkboard has a big crack through it, and my couch is in the wrong spot. On closer inspection, the papers on my desk have all been tossed together into a neat pile, and my desk drawers look as though they’ve been emptied and someone has thrown the stuff back in. The picture frames of my most daring articles have all been reframed and are back up on the wall . . . in the wrong order.
I consider leaving it the way it is and getting started on a new investigation, but I know better than that. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to concentrate until this shit is sorted out.
With a sigh, I get started fixing up my office.
An hour later, I finish perfecting my workspace and boot up my new computer. I’m pleased to find the computer guy must have been in here and worked his magic. Everything is exactly how I had it on my last computer.
I click on my emails and wait as everything from the past three months attempts to load. While the emails slowly trickle in, I head out to the kitchen and start working on another coffee while I catch up with the other girls in the office. We get carried away with our mindless chatter, and I soon have to excuse myself to get back to work.
