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“Gerard Dumouchel.”
I frown. “Adele’s husband who’s divorcing her?”
He nods. “Except he’s not just divorcing Adele and trying to take all her money.”
My brows knit. “Then what else, pray tell, is he doing?”
“That’s just it,” Dante shrugs. “No one knows.”
“Jesus, Dante,, if this is a riddle, you should know that I fuckingloatherid—”
“No one knows because no one has so much asseenGerard Dumouchel in almost two months.” Dante eyes me. “He’s missing.”
27
DAHLIA
Elsa checksher phone yet again, her brow furrowed deeply.
“Everything okay?”
She looks up at me and blushes. “God, I’m so sorry.”
“No, not at all! If you need to take off or deal with a work thing or—”
“No, it’s…” She rolls her eyes. “Nora’s on a date.”
I wince. “Oof.”
“Right?” Elsa groans.
Nora is Elsa’s sixteen-year-old sister, who Elsa basically raised as if Nora was her daughter, given the age difference between them.
I frown. “Are you worried about the person she’s with?”
Elsa chuckles. “Not at all. One, because he’s a puppy dog and a really sweet guy. And two, because Hades scared the ever-loving fuck out of him when he came to pick her up.”
“Let me guess, he’s going to be waiting by the front door to further scare the shit out of this poor kid when he brings Nora home?”
Elsa grins. “Nah, that’s my shift. Hades is off on some mission with Deimos.”
I stiffen. Deimos had indeed mentioned he had work tonight and would be home late—home, as inhishome, that we apparently share now, albeit in separate bedrooms.
But he never mentioned going on a “mission” with Hades.
“Oh?” I shrug as casually as I can manage. “What sort of mission is it?”
Elsa grimaces. “Eh, it’s…no, forget it.” She shakes her head and then plucks up her glass of wine and takes a dainty sip. Then she drops her eyes to the substantial pile of legal documents in front of her. “Okay, let’s wade into these, because there’s alotto go over.”
My mouth twists. “Thank you again for doing this. Seriously, I don’t know how to repay you for taking the time to—”
“Dahlia,” she smiles, reaching across the hightop table at Bar Great Harry in Brooklyn, where we’ve met up, to squeeze my hand comfortingly. “I’m honestly more than happy to help. Okay?”
Again, my mom puts on a very brave face when she wants to. Her “stiff upper lip, turn the other cheek” game is solid.
But she’s crumbling. I can see it whenever we FaceTime, and hear it in her voice whenever we talk. She’s been through so fucking much, and even though I know she’s trying to rise above what’s happening with Gerard, it’s slowly taking its toll on her.
I mean, she really loved him. So did I, honestly. Which just makes the betrayal so much worse.
