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“Trouble?”she exclaims, laughing. “Oh dear, anything to keep the mind busy these days! Am I supposed to just sit around and feel sorry for myself all day? That sounds quite horrible, if you ask me.”
She winks at me. “It was a pleasure, really. Thank you for stopping by. We had so much fun, didn’t we, Johnny?”
The black catsnuggles against her leg, still casting me looks full of disdain. I bet he can’t wait for me to leave.
“Bye Johnny,” I pipe, waving at the grumpy cat, before I send Mrs. Warden a smile. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Anything, really.”
“I will, I will,” she nods, placing a hand on my upper arm. “You just worry about yourself for now, Katherine. Don’t lose your path. You’re doing so well.”
Her words strike a chord with me. She’s pretty much the only person who knows me well enough to know that stability doesn’t come easy to me.
“I will,” I assure her. “I promise to keep my head straight this time.”
The smile on her face widens. “Good! Don’t let anyone get in your way or sidetrack you, like that boy did—”
“I won’t,” I throw in. I’m not sure which boy she’s referring to, the one who dragged me into his not-so-glamorous world of drug dealing or the one who cheated on me and kicked me out of my home. I’m sure they’re both in Mrs. Warden’s bad books.
“Bye now, dear,” she says, ushering me to the door. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hang out with your old teacher.”
I don’t, really, but I’m sure she’s mostly trying to get rid of me, because she’s tired and wants to lay down. She’d never admit it openly, because she doesn’t want me to worry.
“Bye, Mrs. Warden.”
She closes the door as soon as I’m out in the hallway, and I make way downstairs, my mind twirling with contemplations about what she told me. I can’t just give her the money to make sure she gets every treatment available. She would never accept it, and I would have to explain where the money comes from. How on Earth could I ever explain? She’ll just be reminded of my ex Clayton and my questionable career as his delivery girl. My contract with Logan and my actions back then are not comparable at all, but I wouldn’t blame her for thinking so.
After all, I’m helping him to deceive other people, and I still don’t know anything about his intentions—so maybe her assumptions wouldn’t even be that far off.
I’m staying ignorant for a reason. I don’t really want to know myself.
I reach the ground floor of the apartment building and am blinded by the late afternoon sun when I open the door to the street. Shielding my eyes, I step outside, scanning the street for the black limousine. Logan insisted on having Christopher bring me here and wait outside to drive me back home. I protested at first, because I hated the idea of him having to wait in the car while I’m having tea with Mrs. Warden, but he insisted until I had no choice but to give in. We’ve both signed our contract this morning, and I felt a surge of anxiety, overcome by the feeling of having sold my soul to the devil. He didn’t make it much better with his stubborn insistence to “keep me safe” by having me chauffeured around like a small child.
But now I’m actually grateful for not having to jump on the subway but sink into the soft embrace of his limousine’s leather seats.
I’m standing in front of the entrance, holding my hand up to shield myself fromthe sun as I search the street up and down. The car is nowhere to be seen, but there’s something else that pulls my attention when I turn to the right.
Or rather: Someone. Someone I haven’t seen in more than three months, and whose appearance hits me like a fucking truck, a vicious punch to the chest that makes me feel sick in an instant.
Patrick is walking along thesidewalk, coming straight toward me, with his hands in his pockets, wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. I’ve never seen him with a baseball cap, nor do I recognize the bomber jacket he’s wearing. Did his new girlfriend give him a makeover? And what is he doing here? If he’s still living in our apartment—which I think he is—then he has absolutely no reason to be in this neighborhood.
He’s about ten yards away when our eyes meet, putting all hopes for me to hide or run to rest. He looks just as surprised to see me as I am to see him.
He freezes mid-walk, staring at me with his mouth partly open before his lips curl into an all too friendly smile.
“Kat!”he calls out. “It’s so good to see you!”
He closes in on me, opening his arms to greet me with a hug, but I recoil, taking a step back when he makes a move to actually wrap his arms around me.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out, lifting my new Marc Jacobs handbag up to my chest like a shield.
He takes off his sunglasses and raises an eyebrow at me, before he looks at the bag, arching his brows further.
“I was just in the area and—”
“In the area?” I cut him off. “You don’t live or work here, not even close. Don’t try to fool me, Patrick.”
He rolls his eyes at me and huffs. “Geez, Kat, relax.”
“Why are you here?” I ask again, even though I’m not sure if my question is directed at him or the universe as a whole.
