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He laughs, but he sounds equally exhausted as me.
Thirty minutes later, I’m showered and dressed and on the verge of really cutting my hair. My arms are too tired from holding the hairdryer, and it’s still partially wet when I give up.
“We’re going to need a lot of sage today,” I mutter, grabbing my keys while trying desperately to loosen the knot in my neck.
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.
Stepping outside, my eyes fall to a box at my feet.
I can’t remember ordering anything.
Another one of my wine-fuelled shopping sprees, no doubt.
I grab the box and get in the car. I’m about to rip the tape with my key, but it’s already open.
No name or address either.
Pulling back the cardboard, I glance inside.
A cuddly toy?
My heart stops. The blood in my veins turns to ice, and it takes all my strength to move my trembling hands.
A note inside reads:
Claire,
We haven’t met yet, but I understand you’re helping my wife through this terrible misunderstanding.
I’m sure you’ll agree, a child’s place is with both parents.
I only hope to be reunited with my family, and I’m sure you’re working hard to achieve this.
Please pass this on to my little girl. She must miss it.
I’ll be in touch.
One more thing.She’s always loved music. While she’s in your care, you might find time to teach her.
Under the letter is a white bunny with the name Hannah stitched to the ear.
***
“Fuck,” Sam curses, staring at the box like it holds an atomic bomb.
I swear it weighs the same.
“It was on your doorstep?”
I only nod.
“I’ve been threatened at my job before. He’s not the first egomaniac I’ve had to deal with.”
“It’s your home. He’s sending a message.”
A chill runs down my spine.
“It’s bully tactics,” I fight back, refusing to acknowledge the churning in my stomach.
