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I dial my mother who answers instantly.
“Hello, darling. Make it quick, please. I’m about to leave the house.”
“Shit, okay, well, I was hoping you would be able to watch Daisy for a little bit tonight. I have a di—”
“Weston, you know that I have my bimonthly board meeting tonight for the women’s league. I simply can’t.”
“There’s no chance she can go with you?”
“Heavens no, that would be absolutely torturous for her. What about the nanny?”
I drag my hand over my face, squeezing my temples. I can feel a tension headache building rapidly.
“I’ll figure it out, Mom. Enjoy your night.”
I hang up the phone and let out an exasperated sigh.
“Can Miss Flowers come over?”
I turn around and look at Daisy, ready to tell her no when suddenly I realize that it’s not a bad idea. Well, it is a bad idea because I barely know the woman and she’s made it clear she can’t stand me. Also, it seems a touch inappropriate to just text your child’s teacher and ask her to babysit. I think about it for another second, realizing in my desperation I really don’t have any other options.
“Would you like that—if she watched you?” She nods her head with a big grin. “I’m sure she’ll be pissy about it,” I half mutter. “Okay, let me see what I can do. Why don’t you go get ready for a quick bath.”
I head to my office and pull out the paper with Daphne’s cell phone. After a simple search of her phone number, I find her address, recognizing the building instantly.
“What are the odds?” I mutter as I program her number into my phone.
I run upstairs, filling up the tub with bubbles, toys, and warm water. I give her a quick bath, pack her some snacks and a change of clothes just in case, and type out a message to Miss Flowers.
Me:Are you home?
5
DAPHNE
Istare the unknown number on my phone, reading the ominous message again. I contemplate ignoring it but something makes me curious so I respond.
Me:Who is this?
“Yeah, I’d die first in a horror movie,” I say to myself realizing how stupid it is to reply to a text asking me if I’m home. What’s next,I’m watching you?
The reply from the number is instant.
Weston:Weston Vaughn.
I jump off the couch in surprise. I’m not so sure I wouldn’t rather it be a stalker or serial killer than him. I wouldn’t be so surprised that a parent is texting me but asking me if I’m home is more than out of the ordinary.
Me:Yes, can I help you with something?
I stare at the phone, chewing the edge of my thumb but the three little bubbles that usually show up when someone is typing a response never appear. A sharp knock at my door less than a minute later startles me, the phone tumbling out of my hand and onto the floor. It’s probably just Steve, inviting me over for another movie.
“Shit.” I pick it up and race to the door, looking through the peephole, expecting to see the top of Steve’s head since he usually stands staring down at his feet after knocking but it’s not him… Instead, I see Weston Vaughn on the other side.
“How the hell?”
I glance around frantically, checking to make sure my always spotless apartment is clean or if I’ve left out something embarrassing. Then I look down at my outfit. An oversized t-shirt, shorts, and no bra. I’m seconds away from running down the hall to throw one on when he knocks again, only harder.
Even his knock is rude.
