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Perfect.
If I don’t recognize myself, no one will.
The new suit is cheap, but it fits. Even in the clinic, I stayed in shape, working out every day as much as my wounds allowed. The strict exercise regime has nothing to do with vanity and everything with being able to protect my family. With a last look to ensure my tie is straight, I grab my fake South African passport and a single suitcase before closing the door on the Zurich flat forever.
My first priority when I arrive on South African soil is to secure a place to live. I rent a small house in a security complex in Midrand and buy a secondhand car with cash. Furnishing the two-bedroom house takes no more than a couple of hours at a big chain store. The next day, a fridge, recliner, and bed are delivered. Getting my hands on a firearm is a lot less complicated than what it should be. I know where to go, where no questions are asked. I don’t care that the weapon isn’t licensed or probably stolen. I only need it for extreme measures, in case Valentina or Connor’s life is in danger, and I don’t plan on getting caught. At least not alive.
On day two I’m like an animal in a cage, pacing from the kitchen to the bedroom and back long before the sun rises. I shouldn’t go near her, not until I have my shit together, but I can’t wait a second longer. Fuck that. I won’t get too close. I’ll only watch her from a distance, make sure she’s all right. I shower and change into my only suit, brush my hair to perfection, and then mess it up again. I’m as nervous as a teenager going on his first date, and I’m not even going to speak to her.
My hands shake as I pull the car out of the garage and take off in the direction of Northriding. I park three houses from hers and wait. It’s Saturday. There’s no telling at what time she’ll leave the house, if at all.
At seven-thirty, the front door opens. I move to the edge of the seat, clutching the steering wheel so hard my hands hurt. I hold my breath, counting in my head. Counting calms and helps me focus. It’s a habit I perfected in the Zurich clinic.
One, two, three, four––
A man steps out.
My vision explodes in shards of black fury. I knew it was a probability. Every man will be on her like a bee on honey. I told myself I’d deal with it, but I didn’t take into consideration how the reality of actually witnessing a man in her house will play havoc with my emotions. I battle to hold it in. I count to ten and back to one. I want to tell him to stay the fuck away from my wife. Only, she isn’t my wife.
She’s your widow. Get a grip, Gabriel.
She has every right to date, but fuck it. I can’t face it. I’m about to put the car into gear and drive away when the man turns. Rhett. Relief bursts like a tide in me. A second later, Quincy exits, carrying a car seat with a baby strapped inside.
My heart stops beating. I strain forward for a better look. Connor. He looks just like the old me. He is so damn perfect, not because he resembles the face I was born with, but because he is part of me and her.
A dainty foot clad in a black boot steps over the threshold. A long, slim leg follows, and then a woman walks onto the porch. The pieces of my fallen-apart world snap back together. Nothing matters, not the old life I worked so hard to delete or the redefined one I so carefully constructed. As before, as every moment in her arms, there’s only her. She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans with a fitted red polo neck jersey and a black coat. Her body is toned, slimmer than I remember. Curls the color of ruby wine and dark chocolate tumble over her shoulders and frame her delicate face. I pivot to her like a planet in orbit. I want to jump out of the car and rush over the lawn, take her in my arms and kiss her dizzy, but the husband she had is nothing more than a bad memory. I slam my palm on the steering wheel, feeling the pain in my soul. This is the price I bargained for her life, and I’ll be damned if I don’t honor my vow.
The trio loads Connor and shitloads of baby stuff into a Honda. I don’t know how they fit everything, but eventually they’re all in. Valentina drives. Keeping a safe distance, I follow them south. It’s when we near Bryanston that I understand their destination. Parking in the lot of a weekend bio market, they take their load from the car. I stop two rows away where I have a good view and roll down the window. First Rhett assembles the stroller and lifts my son inside. There’s a great deal of bickering between him and Quincy about whether the cover should be up or down. Eventually, Valentina puts a diaper bag in Quincy’s hands and a basket in Rhett’s before taking the stroller from the disgruntled men and pushing it over the grass toward the stalls.
