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"Exactly. Why don't you gather some belongings, and we'll head to my place for the night?"
Her grin broadened. "That sounds like a fantastic plan," she agreed as we pulled up to her building.
After a brief time, we reached my humble abode, where I switched on my sound system, opting for soothing melodies to aid in our relaxation. Amy was still unsettled by the night's events as she fidgeted with her hair and constantly looked out at the street.
"You don't think that person can get to us here, do you? Maybe, you need to put up a fence or something, especially with you getting custody of your daughter," Amy said, closing the blinds.
"I concur," I exhaled. "Regrettably, merely having someone monitor the premises and relying on my security arrangement won't be adequate." I dragged my hand through my hair, eyeing Amy as she caught a glimpse of a passing vehicle through the blinds. "We need to unwind. Let's take a hot shower and..."
“…grab some snacks,” she finished cheerfully.
As the hot water cascaded down our bodies, washing away the sand and salt, our cares seemed to evaporate with the steam. We took turns washing each other's hair, our fingers massaging our scalps and sending shivers down our spines. While sharing a few passionate kisses, our bodies pressed tightly together. It was a moment of pure bliss, as I kissed each and every red spot I had left behind as a reminder of our first time making love.
Finally, we dried off and snuggled in bed, enjoying some food. I had grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry while Amy had found some Oreos in a cupboard. She dipped them in milk and licked her fingers, slowly unwinding.
It wasn't long before Amy opened up about her kidnapping, the memories still fresh in her mind. I could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke, her voice trembling.
"I'll never forget the sound of his voice in a thousand years," she said, her words punctuated by a heavy sigh.
I held her close, comforting her as she spoke. It was clear that the trauma of her ordeal still weighed heavily on her, and I vowed to do everything in my power to help Amy heal. "I wish I had gotten to listen to the stalker’s voice this evening."
"Don't beat yourself up. You were terrified."
"Do you think there's a connection between the words on the sign the kidnapper forced me to hold — ‘Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched?’” she asked, snuggling up beside me.
I had been pondering the same thing ever since I got the summons. "I have a sneaking suspicion there is," I replied. "Especially now that I just discovered I'm little Ava's father. Maybe I'll get a better idea after my Zoom call with Angelo Ferrara."
"Do you think telling him about the kidnapping is a good idea? It might... you know..."
"I have to tell him the truth. But honestly, if he is a friend of your father's and lives in Vail, I'm sure he is already aware."
"First things first. Let's just get through the interview tomorrow..."
I nodded. We will," I echoed, turning off the lamp and pulling Amy closer.
As we drifted off to sleep, the music from my audio system lulling us into a peaceful slumber, I knew we had a lot of work to do. But for now, I was content just holding Amy close, grabbing a few stolen hours together — before her parents returned to San Diego!
ChapterSeven
Amy
Dressedto the nines in his tailored suit, Mitch oozed that irresistible executive charisma as he glanced at his watch. He shot me a teasing grin and offered, "One last cup of coffee before Ms. Morris arrives? What do you say?"
“I think I’ll pass,” I said, my stiletto tapping rhythmically on the floor as I gazed at the tranquil beach scene outside. “I’m already nervous as hell.”
Mitch chuckled, "Why not try my famous green tea instead?" He twirled me around playfully, and I couldn't help but question, "How come you're so cool about all this? We've never raised a kid before."
"Hey, at least you've babysat! The only sitting I've done involves dogs," Mitch quipped, pulling me into the kitchen with an irresistible grin.
As we sipped our drinks, we brainstormed questions to ask Ella. "Maybe we should ask about her take on discipline?" I offered.
"Good one," Mitch concurred. "And her educational philosophy is a must."
Our brainstorming spiraled into the ridiculous as our nerves took hold. "Should we ask her favorite ice cream flavor?" I laughed, feeling a bit foolish.
Mitch beamed, "Absolutely! It's a nanny's most vital qualification, after all!"
We shared a laugh as the ticking clock on the wall taunted, reminding us that time was running short to find someone to care for Mitch's soon-to-arrive little girl.
