

Lost Inside

A Shimmer Lake Novel

### by

Christina Smith

### This book was previously published as the first part of Finding Abigail. It has now been split into two books.

Published by Christina Smith

Smashwords edition

Copyright ©2015 Christina Smith

Edited by Christine LePorte

Cover Art and design by Ronnell D Porter

For my sister Debbie,

Who is more than a sister to me, she is my friend.

And to all the women out there who feel trapped in a relationship. I hope you find the courage to somehow be free.

In order to keep this book as real as possible, I worked with a woman who had been in an abusive relationship. Thankfully she is now happily married to a great man. The abuse happened years ago but the scars are still there. She let me take a peek into her memories so I could create a character as realistic as possible. I couldn't have done it without her. And to this woman-this is also for you.

Look for these other exciting titles by Christina Smith

Finding Abigail, book two in the Shimmer Lake series

My Young Adult Fantasy Series:

Fated Dreams (Book one in the Affinity Series)

Delusions (Book two in the Affinity Series)

Riley's Curse, A Moon's Glow Prequel (Free as an eBook)

Riley's Secret, A Moon's Glow Novel #1

Riley's Torment, A Moon's Glow Novel #2

Riley's Redemption, A Moon's Glow Novel #3

Skeleton Park

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

This book is for adults eighteen and over.
Preface

On the edge of consciousness, I gazed into the deep brown eyes that stared into mine. They were full of hate and disgust as the man attached to them drained the life from my body.

He said he loved me, but continually treated me with violence and ridicule.

He said he wanted to marry me, except to him, I was a possession.

He said he wanted to be together forever, but my life, my essence, my soul, was slipping away at the hands of the man who loves me.

Chapter One

Lunch

"Shit, I'm late," I muttered.

The silence of my empty apartment was the only answer. The clock hanging above my mahogany-framed mirrored dresser read ten forty-five. The second hand ticked by at what seemed to be an unnatural speed, mocking me. The meeting at my publisher's office was in fifteen minutes, and I was still applying my make-up. Why the hell did I always wait so long to start getting ready? Thank God, the career I chose let me work at home, because otherwise, I would have been fired long ago.

After tossing my eye shadow into my red satin make-up bag, I assessed my appearance in the mirror. Hair was... decent. Make-up looked... acceptable. And all my clothes were on, so that was a bonus. My worst nightmare was rushing out and forgetting my pants. With my head full of ideas for novels, I'm always forgetting things.

I ran to fetch my briefcase that held my notes for the new children's book I was writing and took off out the door of my apartment.

"Hold the elevator," I yelled when I saw it closing. I slid inside just before it shut. "Thanks," I said to my neighbor, Mrs. Newman. She stood alone near the controls with her navy-blue sequined purse tucked under her arm. She didn't go anywhere without it, not even the laundry room.

"Running late again, Abby?" she asked me as the elevator started to descend. The high pitched ping that sounded at each floor was annoyingly slow.

I smiled at her. She was in her seventies and still in good shape. Her silvery white hair was long and always pulled back in a braid or bun. The gray of her eyes sparkled, and the wrinkles on her face made her look wise instead of old.

I hoped to be half as healthy when I turned seventy. She moved here a year ago, after her husband of fifty years died. Her children lived on the other side of the city, so I looked out for her whenever I could to keep them at ease.

"You know me so well, Sylvia."

"What's the rush? Do you have a hot lunch date?" she asked me with a wink while jingling the silver and blue beads she wore around her neck.

An extremely, unappealing snort escaped my lips. "No, not today." Not likely ever. My romantic life was at a bit of a standstill, with zero prospects. I was fine with that. My life was full enough; my friends, family and career kept me busy. Although that didn't stop my mom from constantly nagging me to settle down, but wasn't that expected of her? She is my mom.

I'm only twenty-five years old, a long way from spinsterhood. I knew the reason I hadn't dated in a while—men didn't actually knock on your door to ask you out. And that was the problem, since I worked at home. I was always working.

When the elevator stopped at the lobby, we stepped out together. "You know, I have a grandson who would love you—" she began, the sparkle in her eyes becoming brighter.

I raised my hand to stop her. "Sorry, Sylvia, but I don't do setups. Last time that happened, I was covered in mud at the end of the date and temporarily deaf in my left ear. Thanks anyway. See you later," I called over my shoulder as I rushed out the front door into the bright sunshine.

"Good morning, Miss Watson. Lovely weather we're having," Spencer, the building's doorman, greeted me.

A grin spread across my face. "It sure is, Spencer."

"Would you like a cab?" He was exactly what you would think a doorman looked like. Short, a little on the round side, with a long black coat and top hat.

"You read my mind."

As I waited for the cab, I lifted my face to soak in the sun. Renwood, the city where I lived, was colder this time of year, like its neighbor, Watertown. Being close to the Canadian border, you'd think we could blame them for our frigid weather, but no. We accumulated more snow then they did, since our city ran parallel to Lake Ontario. It also didn't help that we were in a snow belt.

Fortunately, this year, it was only rain that made the air cool and damp. After the soggy week we had, this change of weather was definitely welcoming. I felt the sun's heat on my exposed skin as a warm breeze blew a strand of hair into my eyes. Since it was too early for the scent of grass or flowers, the day smelled only of crisp fresh air, but it beat the smell of wet dog and earthworms.

He waved as a cab approached. When it stopped, he opened the door for me.

"Thank you, Spencer," I called to him from the other side of the glass.

That was something I would never get used to. Once my books started selling, I moved from my tiny bachelorette apartment to this one, which came with a doorman. To say it was different from my old building was an understatement. The age of my former home and the smell of must and mothballs in the hallways were only a few of the differences. The worst was the lack of an elevator. Trekking up seven flights of stairs on grocery and laundry day was extremely inconvenient, although my arms were more defined back then.

Once I arrived at my publisher's office, the elevator took me up to the twelfth floor.

I stepped out into a large room filled with rows of desks. People were hard at work typing on their computers, the sound of tapping keys echoing throughout the room. The air smelled of ink, perfume, and air freshener. The large square fluorescent lights hanging from the ceilings were bright, and radiating heat.

Walking through the center aisle sometimes made me miss working with others. But thinking about how early they woke up for work every day, I got over it. A few heads lifted as I walked by, and I smiled in greeting.

Usually I emailed my outlines to my editor, and really, I preferred to do it that way since it gave me more time for actual writing. I enjoyed what I did for a living; it made me happy, so why would I want to stop?

I started my writing career with pre-K books. Introducing the world of words to young children was my calling. The only problem was that there wasn't a lot of money in those. When a few of my fantasy pre-teen books really took off, I was able to return to pre-K, where my heart was.

The first book I ever wrote was for my niece and nephew when they were only a couple years old. I read a few paragraphs to them, emphasizing my words on the different noises from the story. I was surprised to see their eyes light up, their faces eager for more. I knew then what I was meant to do.

"Hi. Abigail Watson to see Debbie Frankford." I leaned against the desk waiting for a reply from the woman that must be a temp. Gwen, the normal receptionist, was nowhere to be seen.

She gave me a warm smile that lit up her green eyes. "Yes, Miss Watson, Debbie's expecting you. Go on in," she answered politely.

I thanked her and strode down the long carpeted hall to Debbie's office.

"You're late!" my editor and best friend snapped at me before even stepping foot inside her door. She sat at her desk reading what looked like an unpublished manuscript. Her long, cinnamon-colored hair was pulled back away from her face, a pencil stuck behind her ear. Her words sounded angry, but the expression in her hazel eyes didn't match her tone. She set the pages down on the desk as I approached her.

"I know, I'm so sorry. I'll be on time at our next meeting, I promise."

She continued to glare at me, and then suddenly smiled. "You're not late. I told you to be here at eleven, but I don't have you scheduled until eleven thirty." She started to laugh at me and then covered her mouth to stop it. Probably because of the shocked look that was no doubt on my face.

"You bitch, do you know that I was in such a rush, I was worried I'd forget my pants?"

She laughed even harder, a cheerful sound that made me smile—on the inside, since I couldn't let her see it.

"I'm glad I amuse you." I glared at her, falling into the plush chair in front of her desk. "Why did I have to come down here anyway, I could have just emailed them to you."

"Yes, you could have. But then you would never leave your apartment, would you?"

"That's true," I admitted, no longer angry. "Okay." I reached into my brown suede briefcase; the earthy scent reminded me of my mother as she gave it to me for Christmas last year.

"Here you go." I handed Debbie a file that held an outline for my next book. She took it from my fingers and placed it on her desk. "I'm thinking of making it a series called The Little Miss books." She scanned the first page as I went on. "You know, Little Miss goes to the mall. Little Miss rides the school bus. Little Miss goes to the carnival, and so on. What do you think?"

She glanced up from the pages and smiled. "I'm so glad we work together."

"Does that mean you like it?"

"I love it. So much so, that I'm taking you to lunch." She stood up and pushed her chair back, hitting the textured wall behind her with a thump.

"Aren't you going to finish reading the outline? I thought that's why I was here."

"No, I'll read it later. This was just a ruse to get you out of that apartment so we could go eat."

"Are you kidding, I could be writing right now. You know my editor is a slave driver." I leaned over the desk, plucking the pencil from her ear and tossing it onto the discarded manuscript, creating lead marks on the pristine, white paper.

"I know, isn't she?" She winked and walked around the desk. "Now let's go, I'm starving." After pulling her jean jacket on, she threaded her arm though mine and we headed to the elevator.

Strolling past a couple of desks in the main workroom, we saw a man in a police uniform talking to a woman who had black hair and wore a gray business suit. She looked vaguely familiar, but I was terrible with names.

He sat on the edge of her desk, talking in a low voice. Whatever he said made her laugh. She covered her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Is someone getting arrested?" I asked Debbie.

A smile tugged at his lips when he saw us approach. His gaze followed as we passed.

"You probably, for wearing mismatched socks." She shook her head in disgust.

We reached the elevator and stood in front of it. "My socks match." I glanced down to see one white and one black. "How the hell did that happen?" I mumbled to myself.

"With you, who knows?" she grumbled, pushing the elevator button. "Besides, you shouldn't even be wearing socks. How many times have I told you to wear heels, not sneakers?"

The idea of squeezing my unusually wide feet into heels for a casual lunch with a friend was laughable. Of course, I was no stranger to dressy shoes, or fancy clothes, for that matter, but to me there had to be a damn good reason to do so, and this was not one of those times. I peered down at my black canvas shoes, wiggling my toes. "I like my sneakers. Besides, I'm wearing jeans and I'm not wearing heels with jeans." Once the elevator door creaked open, we stepped inside.

She gaped at me like I had two heads and was frothing at the mouth as the car started to move. Her thick lashes blinked at me. "What am I going to do with you? I have to trick you to get you out. Am I going to have to dress you as well?"

"You love me the way I am, and you know it." I bumped my hip against hers.

She held her exasperated expression a few beats longer before smiling. "You're right. I do, there's no one like you, Abby." She sighed as we exited the elevator and headed out the building's front door.

The trendy restaurant we chose was crowded with twenty-something up-and-comers on lunch break from the nearby offices. The large dining room was welcoming with splashes of creamy white and burgundy throughout the space. A single white lily peeked out of crystal vases in the center of each table. A buzz of conversation filled the aromatic air. Most of the customers were dressed like Debbie, in suits or work appropriate dresses. I felt a little underdressed in my jeans and purple cotton top.

We were seated along the front window in a comfortable burgundy banquette. I asked her where Gwen, the regular receptionist was.

"She left two months ago, I told you that. Honestly," she began, shaking her head. "How do you make it through the day? You're constantly in your own little world."

She meant it as an insult, but instead of taking offence, I grinned. "I like it in my world; it's bright, colorful, and shiny."

She laughed, a soft chortle that had the man in the booth behind us glance in her direction.

There was a certain aroma in the room that I couldn't quite name. A mix of yummy smells all rolled into one. Since identifying the specific one I liked the best was impossible, I asked the waiter, once he arrived, for a cheeseburger and fries. I was in the mood for something greasy.

Debbie ordered a spinach salad—how boring. While we waited for our lunch, she filled me in on her love life. She was dating a hot mystery writer. He had taken her out five times and she was getting ready for the big night. "So what about you, any dates lately?" she asked with a smirk on her face. She played with the cubes of ice in her water, creating a soft tinkling sound. The sweat from the glass made her fingers glisten.

I scowled at her. "Why would you ask that if you already know the answer? Are you trying to rub it in?" The waiter placed our meals in front of us. I took a big bite of my burger. It tasted so good, my stomach rumbled and I realized that I had completely forgotten to eat breakfast.

"I'm sorry. But I do have this guy in mind for you. He's a writer too, and I know you'll hit it off."

Once I swallowed, I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Do I have a sign on my head that says 'please fix me up'? God, between you, my mother and my neighbor, I'm going crazy."

Throwing her head back with a laugh, she picked up her fork, pointing it at me. "Well, we know you need a life other than writing, so maybe dating someone will get you out of your place and back out into the world." Her fork stabbed into lettuce and cucumber. Placing the half-filled utensil into her mouth, she ate like a bird, chewing daintily. I hadn't been out to eat with her in a while, but this was not the Debbie I knew. In college she could even out eat me and not gain an ounce. It was sickening.

I watched her with raised brows as she nibbled. She didn't even notice. "No thanks, no more blind dates from you. I'm still not over the last one. All he talked about was monster trucks. Then he took me to a rally and it was so loud I couldn't hear for two days."

She laughed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, but that was so funny. I remember what you looked like when you came over afterwards, covered head to toe in mud. Weren't you lucky he had front row seats?"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Yeah, great fun. Let's talk about something else please," I complained, remembering that horrifying evening.

We finished our meal as she discussed my pathetic love life. After a few minutes the waiter came with our bill.

I left her in front of her building. Once she disappeared through the glass doors, I turned to hail a cab.

The policeman from upstairs was leaning against his car, in front of me. The bright April sun glared off the white paint from his police cruiser.

He was staring in my direction. After a quick glance behind me and seeing no one there, I guessed he was watching me. I took a step toward him, and he smiled.

"You're the girl I saw earlier." He nodded his head to the building Debbie had disappeared into.

A car squealed its tires in the street in front of us; shortly after, a horn honked.

"Brilliant observation, Officer. I can see why you chose your particular line of work." I folded my arms, taking a quick step sideways to avoid a stroller coming toward me at race car speed. The woman pushing it was wearing three inch heels and moving so fast I was sure she would trip at any moment. I turned my head just before she turned the corner.

He chuckled and shook his head. "What's your name?"

"You're a cop, shouldn't you already know it?"

He laughed, showing perfect white teeth. "I could find out, but wouldn't it be easier for you to just tell me?"

"Who would you find out from? The girl you were hitting on only an hour ago?" The cold sarcasm in my voice was obvious.

He arched his brow in confusion, then when understanding hit, he smiled. "That was my cousin, Maria. My mother asked if I'd stop by and ask her over for dinner since the station is just down the road."

It was not surprising that the first time I spoke to a person of the male species in months, I embarrass myself. "Oh, well, I'm still not giving you my name."

He opened his mouth to speak just as a cab pulled up against the curb, the squeaking breaks echoing through the air. Ignoring the urge to stay and awkwardly flirt some more, I said, "Sorry, cab's here, gotta go."

"I'll give you a ride in my car." His voice was deep and sexy.

"Am I under arrest, Officer?" I asked, my head tilted, my voice playful.

"Have you broken any laws lately?"

I opened the door of the car and leaned in. "Not that I know of."

He folded his arms in front of him. "Then, no."

"In that case, I'll stick with the cab." I climbed in before the cabbie complained. He sighed a few times, obviously annoyed at having to wait.

As we rolled away from the curb, I saw the cop watching me from out of the corner of my eye.

Was it pathetic that even though I had only spoken to him for a few minutes, it was still the longest conversation I'd had with a guy in weeks?

He was definitely on the hot side—tall, with short dark hair. I couldn't see the color of his eyes because he was wearing sunglasses, which also added to the look. His height could be a problem though. I'd have to use a step ladder to get a goodnight kiss. I grinned at the thought. The idea that after one meeting with this guy and I was already daydreaming about him was ridiculous. I knew I'd never see him again. It must be the uniform; it was a definite plus for me. What was it about a man in uniform?

Chapter Two

Family

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on my floor, I heard my phone ringing from down the hall. I took off in a run, nearly tripping on the Berber carpet trying to catch the phone. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough, as soon as I stuck the key in the lock, the ringing stopped. My voice floated out of the machine, telling the caller to leave a message. It was my mother, reminding me of dinner tonight. Great, a family dinner. It was just what I was in the mood for after my lunch with Debbie.

With time to kill before I needed to leave, I sat down at my computer and started working. However, two hours later, wrapped up in Little Miss Susie Sunshine's first trip to the mall, I glanced at the clock. Crap, I was late again.

It took fifteen minutes to get to my mom's quiet suburb. I only used my car when I left the city. Traveling within the limits was killer on the wallet. The price of parking was almost as much as a monthly car payment—if I had one. I had purchased my Camaro with the money I received after selling my third pre-teen fantasy book. It was the only indulgence I had allowed myself.

The drive through my old neighborhood was peaceful. The streets were filled with kids playing in yards, jumping rope, and having fun in the park. The houses were neat and trim, with perfectly manicured lawns. The sound of dogs barking and children's laugher echoed through my open car windows. Even though I enjoyed my apartment in the city, I loved coming back home. I felt closer to my father here.

"Hey, Mom," I yelled, letting myself into the house I grew up in. I hung my coat on the hook behind the door and glanced around my old living room. The space was full of memories—the red brick fireplace that I hit my head on when I was wrestling with my older sister Brenda. I still had the scar on my scalp from the cut which, although tiny, had covered my whole head and body in blood. Apparently, I had hit a blood vessel, causing blood to spurt out of the wound. My mother nearly fainted at the sight of me.

A painting of our cottage my dad built hung on the wall above the mantel. The frame had to be repaired after my sister and I knocked it over while throwing a soccer ball in the house.

The furniture was new, thank God. My mother had kept our old orange, flower-patterned couch longer than she should have. It was hideous, and it took Brenda and me buying her a new set to get rid of it. And even then, she cried as the Salvation Army truck towed it away. It had been a gift from my father a few months before he died.

He passed away suddenly of a heart attack when I was twelve. It was the hardest thing we ever went through, and we still weren't over it. A hole was left in our lives the day he was taken away in the ambulance, and after fifteen years, it still wasn't filled. My dad was a special man. He paid attention to all of us, made anyone he talked to feel like they mattered. Since he often worked late, he made a point to spend time with each of us, creating different nightly rituals with his daughters. Every night he and I would share cookies and milk while he listened to me talk about my day. His presence still lingered here, even after we redecorated and gave most of his possessions to charity.

"Is that you, Abby?" I heard my mom yell from the kitchen, interrupting my trip down memory lane.

"Yes," I answered, strolling into the kitchen. The room was filled with the aroma of beef, spices, and the chatter of my family.

Brenda and her husband, Jeff, sat at the table munching on hors d'oeuvres. Their children Justin and Haley weren't quite munching as their parents were. Haley nibbled on the crackers like a baby bird learning to eat, while Justin shoveled cheese by the handful into his mouth as his mother looked away and turned to me.

Justin was six and Haley was four. They were the two cutest kids in the world. I didn't have this opinion because they just happened to be my family, it was the truth. They both inherited our family's honey blond hair and Jeff's blue-grey eyes, but they were lucky enough to be blessed with round cherub faces. Haley even had ringlets.

"It's about time you got here. Look at my poor children, they're starving," Brenda teased. I knew she didn't care if I was late. She was proud that I wrote books, even if I did lose track of time writing them. She always stood up for me when my mother gave me a hard time.

"Yeah, I can see they're suffering." I laughed, pointing to Justin who had his mouth stuffed with cheese. He looked like he was storing for winter.

"Justin, spit that out," Brenda scolded. Her son did what he was told and spit the cheese right onto the table. A pile of slimy orange goo lay on the shiny oak surface in front of him. He glanced up at his mother and smiled, a dimple popping out on his right cheek. "Justin Jeffery Markson, you clean that up right now."

"Ewww!" Haley whined, with her face scrunched up, nose wrinkled.

I picked the four-year-old up, giving her a kiss on her chubby little cheek, and glanced at the boy with the gooey face. "Hey, little man. I'd give you a kiss too, but you're covered in orange slime." He was smiling wide, obviously proud of his disgusting actions.

"Hey, Mom," I said, heading over to her where she was standing at the stove stirring here famous beef stew. I gave her a peck on the cheek and put Haley down.

"Aunt Abby, can you write a book about me?" She tugged on my shirt when I didn't answer right away.

"Haley, she's already written two about you. How many do you need?" her mother scolded while wiping cheese off of the table with a wad of paper towel.

Haley considered the question and answered seriously. "Fifteen."

The adults laughed as Haley gazed up at me, wondering what was so funny.

"You're late again," my mother remarked without looking in my direction. She scooped out stew and divided it into bowls. I took the one she had already filled, along with a basket of her homemade biscuits, placing the stew in front of Jeff, and the basket in the center of the table.

Justin leaned up on his knees to grab a fresh biscuit, but quickly withdrew when his mother slapped his hand.

"I know," I began defensively. "But I started a new series and it was difficult to stop. I'm sorry." The next bowl went to Haley, who was just taking her place next to her father.

"There's more to life than work, you know. I'd be more understanding if you were late because of a man," my ever-meddling mother said, smirking at me.

"Don't start, Mother." I rolled my eyes, but held back a groan.

"Yes, please, let's have a peaceful dinner without arguing for once." Brenda's tone was firm, giving me and my mother a fierce look.

I ignored my sister and picked up two more bowls of stew, handing them to her and Justin. Now that the table was slime free, I grabbed mine off the counter and sat down between my niece and nephew. My mother took the seat opposite me, giving me a warm smile before scooping a spoonful of veggies and beef into her mouth. I gave her a wink and then focused on the kids.

"How is school going, guys?" I asked, glancing between them.

"We're learning about butterflies," Justin began, with his mouth full. "Did you know that they come from catabillars?"

I grinned. "Yes, I know that caterpillars change into butterflies." I emphasized the p.

"That's what I said, catabillars. They go into this weird-looking white round fuzzy thing called an acorn and fall asleep. And when they wake up, they come out a butterfly. Isn't that cool?"

Interesting description of metamorphosis; he should be a writer. "Very cool, but it's called a cocoon." I ruffled his soft hair with my hand.

His big eyes glanced up at me in confusion. "Huh?"

"Butterflies come out of cocoons, not acorns."

"That's what I said." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, as if dealing with adults was trying on his nerves.

I stared at him for a few moments, about to argue before deciding to let it go. I turned to his mother. "What's new with you, Brenda?"

She was in the process of wiping Haley's mouth with a napkin. She balled it up and glanced at me. "Not much. Debbie and I talked today and decided that we're taking you out tomorrow night. We're going to The Cave. Remember how much fun we had last time?"

For some reason panic bubbled up inside me. "Are you sure? Don't you think you should stay home with your family? Who knows what this kid will shove in his mouth while you're gone." I tapped Justin's head. If he noticed, he didn't show it. He simply shoveled a rather large spoonful of stew into his mouth. "Are you willing to risk it? Besides, you can't leave Jeff alone with these monsters."

She scoffed. "Nice try."

"No, that's okay, Abby. I don't mind. By the time you guys go out, the kids are already in bed." Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at his wife. "And she bribed me with something to make sure I'll get up with the kids in the morning."

"Please, not while I'm eating. I don't want to know what she bribed you with. But okay, I'm in," I said, giving up. I took a sip of wine, knowing when I was defeated.

"Are you serious? You're agreeing that quickly?" Brenda asked with her eyes wide.

I pushed down the panic, because I knew I needed some time to let loose. "Yes. I haven't been out in a long time, it'll be fun."

She grinned widely. "Awesome, I can't wait to have a night to myself. No offense, honey." She batted her eyelashes at her handsome husband.

"None taken. I get out with the guys to play poker. You should have some time away from home too."

Brenda leaned over and kissed Jeff on the lips, lingering for a few seconds. "You are the best husband, you know that?" Now that they were starting to get all mushy, I wasn't sure if I was touched and envious by their loving words, or about to throw up my beef stew.

"Get a room!" Justin yelled, staring at his parents. All the adults at the table gaped at him. I had to cover my mouth to stifle my laughter.

"Justin! Where did you hear that?" his mother asked, her eyes wide with shock.

"From the big kids on the bus. Why? What does it mean?" Since I was finished eating I decided it was time to clean up. My mother followed me.

As we stuck our dishes in the dishwasher we heard Brenda stumbling for an explanation to his question.

"Guess what I found in my sewing room?" my mom asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"In my old room? I have no idea. My retainer?" I closed the dishwasher, turning around to face her. She took something out of her pocket and held up a sterling silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket. Tears fell down my cheeks as I took the necklace into my hand and gazed at it. The memory of my father giving it to me flashed into my mind. "Now remember, Abby, every time you open this locket, you'll see me. That way I'll always be with you. No matter how many business trips I go on, as long as you have this, I'll always be close by," my father explained, opening the locket that was resting against my chest. I stared at the tiny pictures of my mother in a pastel floral dress with her sandy hair up in a bun. Tiny curls fell along the side of her pinkened cheeks. My father looked striking in a black suit and red tie, his thick wavy brown hair brushed smoothly. His blue eyes held humor, as if the photographer had just told a joke.

Wrapping my eight-year-old arms around him and rubbing his scruffy cheek against my smooth one just to feel the tingle, I whispered, "Thank you, Daddy."

"What is it, can I see?" Haley screamed, bringing me back to the present.

I bent down to show her the dainty little heart with the lace design embossed on the front. "Isn't it pretty? My daddy gave this to me when I was eight. He was away on business trips a lot, so he bought your mommy and me matching necklaces to remind us of him when he was away. I lost mine years ago, but Grandma just found it." I opened the locket to show her the pictures inside. "See, just like Mommy's. There's Grandma, and that's Grandpa. Look how young Grandma is." Both kids gazed at the photo intently, then looked up at their grandmother and smiled.

I stood up and faced my mom. "Where was it?"

"It was in the corner where your bed used to be, lodged between the wall and the carpet. I saw something shiny this morning and bent down to investigate. I couldn't wait to give it to you. You were so devastated when you lost it."

I remembered the hollow feeling of loss mixed with guilt when I woke up one morning and it was gone. It was as if I had lost him all over again.

Overwhelmed with joy, I hugged her, holding on tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of jasmine. When I let go, I gave her a kiss on the cheek; her skin was silky soft. "Thanks, Mom. I'm putting it on now and never taking it off. That way I won't lose it again."

I put the necklace around my neck and then gave my mother another quick hug, thankful for coming tonight. I had lost my necklace about a year after he died. I was afraid I would lose my memories of him if I didn't have it on to remind me. I knew better now, but I was still relieved to have it back.

At home that night, I nestled into bed with a glass of wine and a movie. I fell asleep watching a film about a single father raising a daughter on his own. After receiving my necklace, I wanted to watch something that would remind me of my father.

Chapter Three

The Cave

In preparation for my night out, I only worked for a few hours. After a quick look in my closet I decided a shopping trip was in order. I found a really cute black top and a pair of dark blue, low-riding skinny jeans at a boutique not far from my home. The top was a little more risqué than I usually wore. It was a halter style with a low neckline, showing cleavage I didn't realize I had.

Debbie and Brenda met me at my place. We had a few drinks as we got ready to go to the club. Brenda looked amazing in a short sparkly silver dress, which was cut a little high above her knee; her silky blond hair flowed down her back like liquid honey.

Debbie went for bold in a hot red halter like mine, and a black leather miniskirt; with her cinnamon-colored hair curled, she looked beautiful. "Holy shit, Debbie, is your skirt short enough?"

"I don't know." She pouted, staring into my full-length mirror. "Do you think it would be too slutty if I pulled it up?"

Since it was almost showing her ass now, my answer was, "Definitely."

She laughed, and continued to brush the dark gray shadow onto her eyelids. When we looked as good as we possibly could, it was time to go.

We traveled the two blocks to the club on foot, through the busy, energized streets. As darkness settled over the city, people made their way out of their residences looking for some excitement from their everyday lives. The sidewalks were full of couples holding hands making their way to the variety of restaurants located down town. Teenagers loitered in the streets in groups, laughing and flirting with each other as they looked for an adventure. A homeless man was sprawled against a bench holding a paper cup. His eyes were closed, and a loud snarl came out of his lips as we passed. I leaned down and dropped a twenty into his cup, careful not to cringe at the sour stench that rose off of his filthy over coat. Brenda took my hand and pulled me away from the man just as his eyes flitted open.

As we approached the club, a buzz of excitement swept over me. I hadn't been out in a while, and it was time for some fun.

Even though it was called The Cave, it was anything but. The building was enormous and industrial looking. Like a warehouse right in the middle of the restaurant and bar district. Bass echoed from the building with a constant thump, thump, thump, making the steel siding hum with vibration. There was always a line that led down the block to enter, but fortunately it went fast and we didn't have to wait long.

The bouncer, who looked like he ingested his share of steroids, stood at the door with his thick muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. Between the bald shiny head and dark sunglasses, not to mention the deep scowl on his face, anyone in their right mind would think twice before causing any kind of trouble.

Debbie sauntered up to him, touching his muscled arm with the tip of her finger, tracing it down to his elbow. "Hey, Felix, busy tonight?"

The bouncer turned to her, scowl still in place, and slowly removed his glasses, revealing bright emerald-colored eyes. The smile that spread brightened his face. "Hey sugar." His deep, low voice only added to the look; he was the scariest person I'd ever been this close to. "What brings you out tonight? I haven't seen you here in a while."

Debbie turned to me. "I wanted to get my friend out in the land of the living. Felix, this is Abby." She wrapped her arms around us, her warm fingers resting on my bare shoulders. "And this is her sister, Brenda."

"It's nice to meet you, Felix," we said at the same time, our voices wavering just a little.

He smiled again, showing dimples I hadn't seen earlier. "Lovely to meet you both. You're in good hands with this one." He pointed to Debbie, giving us a wink, which led me to believe that he wasn't scary after all, but merely a big old teddy bear. He opened the door and gestured for us to enter. "Have a good night, ladies," he called as we slipped by. I peeked over my shoulder at him once we were in and saw that the scowl was once again in place, glaring at a couple of men in suits.

As we stepped inside the dimly lit club, a mixture of smells hovered in the air—beer, wine, sweet perfume and even the musky scent of cologne. But one particular odor stood out from all the others—sweat. Which was understandable considering the dance floor was overflowing with tons of gyrating bodies. The bass was pounding, vibrating my insides. Even though the night was young, the large room was crowded. Debbie found a table by the dance floor while Brenda went off to get us some drinks.

"Holy crap, it's busy tonight. Look at all the hot guys. We shouldn't have a problem finding men tonight," Debbie yelled over the music.

I arched a brow at her. "What happen to the mystery writer?"

Her face fell. "Turns out he was seeing a romance novelist, the bastard."

"I'm sorry, Debbie. Men are pigs." I rubbed her back gently.

"Why are men pigs?" Brenda yelled, sitting beside me, her hands empty.

"That's a stupid question. But speaking about questions, where are our drinks?" I leaned toward her so I didn't have to yell.

"The waitress is bringing them. I couldn't carry them all." Just as she finished speaking, a brown-haired waitress wearing a leopard crop top came over carrying a tray loaded with drinks. She placed my vodka cooler and their wine on the table, and then walked off. "I paid her at the bar," Brenda explained as I was reaching for my money. "So why are men pigs?" she asked again.

"The guy Debbie was dating cheated on her with a romance novelist."

She gazed at Debbie sympathetically. "Men suck. You're too good for him." She raised her wine glass. "May the romance novelist give the mystery writer crabs, and may his wee-wee shrivel up and fall off." We laughed as we lifted our glasses, clinked, and chugged back our drinks.

"Wee-wee?" Debbie asked her after swallowing her sip.

Brenda shrugged. "I spend most of my time with people under five. It's habit."

We laughed again and then I pulled the subject away from men's private parts. "How do you know the bouncer?" I placed my bottle on the stained wood table in front of me.

"We went to high school together. I haven't seen him in years, but when I started coming here, I ran into him." She paused as a couple of guys walked by. She did a hair flip and went on. "We went to lunch once and I met his wife. She's a sweetheart."

"He looks scary," I said, voicing my original opinion of him.

She was in the process of taking a sip of her wine. She nodded as she swallowed. "Yeah, I know, but it's all an act. You should see him with his kids."

Teddy bear, I knew it—well, not at first of course; anyone that saw him wouldn't think so.

We sat for a while drinking, commenting and laughing at the other patrons' dancing abilities, until Debbie's favorite song came on and declared it was our turn. She dragged us up to dance—if you could call it that. The mob on the dance floor was so tight, we just moved with the crowd.

After a few songs, we tried to reclaim our table, but in our seats were four burly men guzzling beer. As we made our way past them in search of another place to sit, I felt a strong hand grasp my arm. His fingers were warm, but his grip was a little tight. "It's you!" a deep voice shouted beside me.

My gaze followed the arm up to his face and studied his features; trying to place him—short brown hair, tanned skin, dark coffee-colored eyes, strong jaw. Nope, didn't recognize him. "Yeah, it's me. But who are you?" I pulled my arm free of his hold.

"I'm the cop from outside that publishing building yesterday. Remember? I asked you if you wanted a ride."

Oh, the hottie cop from my daydream. "I didn't recognize you without your uniform."

He grinned, lighting up his dark eyes. Standing this to him, I noticed a jagged scar over his left brow. "Here, why don't you girls sit down? I'll grab some extra chairs."

Debbie and Brenda eyed me curiously as they plopped down onto the chairs that the cop brought over from a few tables over. He pulled me onto the one beside him, while the girls sat across from me. They were sandwiched between a tall blond who looked like a weightlifter, and a guy with shaggy black hair and piercing blue eyes. "So, what's your name?" the hottie cop asked me, leaning close so I would hear him. He smelled of musk cologne.

I considered the idea of withholding my name a little longer, but when he smiled, showing his white perfect teeth, I couldn't resist. "Abby Watson, what's yours?"

"Nick Costa." He took my hand and instead of shaking it, he held on; he had a warm tight grip. "These are guys I work with. John, Marty, and Brian." He pointed as he spoke.

Once I introduced Debbie and Brenda, everyone seemed to talk at once. They were all uniform cops who went to school together, but were out celebrating Nick and Brian making detective. It turned out Brian was the only other single guy, and somehow Debbie was seated next to him. I overheard Brenda and Marty, the blond muscle man, comparing notes on their children.

They were fun to talk to, and the conversation, although loud because of the music, was great. We had a blast. John taught us a drinking game, using a quarter and a shot glass. Since I wasn't very good at it, an hour later I was a little buzzed.

The bass-pumping music changed to a slow song. "Dance with me," Nick whispered, leaning in close to my ear. Brian was in the middle of a story about a case he was working on. His piercing blue eyes were animated as he spoke, running his hand through his unruly black hair. I liked Brian instantly; he had a calming voice and a friendly face. I noticed Debbie leaning into him and judging by the look in her eye, I wasn't the only one with a positive reaction to him.

As Nick took my hand to help me off my chair, I felt sudden nerves in the pit of my stomach. "Sure," I said quietly, not sure why I answered him, since he was already leading me to the dance floor.

His arms wrapped around my waist and I leaned my head against his chest, breathing in his scent. Warmth emanated from him, his muscles were hard under my hands as I laid them on his broad shoulders. I felt safe in his embrace.

We moved slowly, bumping into other couples occasionally, but I didn't notice, feeling content in his arms. While we danced he asked me a few questions. I pulled back, only to be nudged back against his warm chest.

The next song was a little faster, but Nick wasn't concerned. As that one ended, I glanced up into his intense brown eyes and was surprised by what I saw. His face was soft and thoughtful as he gazed down at me.

When he started to lean down, I took a step back, knowing what he was about to do. He gave me a small smile. "Thank you for the dance," he whispered into my ear. His breath was hot against my skin, giving me goose bumps.

He led me back to the table where John was chugging back a massive mug of beer, while the rest of the group cheered him on.

"I have to powder my nose," Brenda announced before I sat down. "Debbie, Abby, are you coming?" She glared at me pointedly. It wasn't a question but a demand. I was going to the washroom whether I want to or not. I smiled at the men before following her through the thick crowd.

"Okay, tell us. What do you think of officer hottie, and how do you know him?" Brenda asked after shoving me through the dirt-crusted washroom door.

I laughed at the thought of prolonging my explanation, just to make them suffer. "I saw him at Debbie's office, and then later outside, leaning against his car as I was hailing a cab, just like he said. He asked me if I wanted a ride, I said no thanks. Besides a bit of flirting, that was it."

Brenda leaned into the mirror to fluff up her hair. "So what do you think of him? You guys danced a long time."

"He's cute. And he seems nice."

"Do you think he'll ask you out?" Debbie asked, taking out her lipstick and applying a fresh coat, expertly avoiding a drunk blond who almost bumped into her as she headed to the stalls behind us.

"I think so. While we were dancing, he asked what I like to do for fun and if I saw a lot of movies." The door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang as four loud girls stumbled in with a fit of laughter. I moved closer to Brenda, who leaned against the graffiti-covered wall.

"What did he say when you told him you were a complete hermit?" Debbie asked with a smirk.

After I swatted her in the head with my clutch purse, I replied, "Anyway, after the last dance I think he wanted to kiss me, but I pulled away."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Why? It's just a kiss."

"I know, but I'd rather not swap spit with a guy I barely know at some bar when I'm drunk. It's sleazy." I glanced at my friend. "No offense, Debbie."

She grinned. "None taken." Checking her appearance in the mirror one last time, she spun on her spiked heel. "On that note, let's go. I think I'm going to get drunk and make out with Brian." I laughed as she marched passed me, a woman on a mission. "In a bar," she added, pushing the door open before storming out.

Brenda and I followed her as she stalked up to Brian and planted one right on the mouth. When she pulled away, Brian's eyes were as wide as saucers. A slow grin spread on his face. She glanced at me and smiled.

Laughing, I took her hand and dragged her to the dance floor where we danced the rest of the night, together and with the guys. Nick danced with me during all the slow songs.

At the end of the night they walked us out. Nick had pulled me aside, next to the building. "Are you sure you don't want us to walk you home? You'd be safe with four cops around."

"Thank you, but no. We'll be fine, I don't live far." He opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when Debbie grabbed my hand to pull me away. "It was nice meeting you," I yelled over my shoulder watching him as I was dragged down the sidewalk.

He stood where he was, his eyes locked on me until we turned the corner. I couldn't help but feel flattered by his intense gaze.

The streets weren't as busy at this time of night. Only a few people hovered on the sidewalks or in doorways. The clicking of our heels echoed on the pavement as we found our way home. Arm in arm, the three of us reminisced about the evening, laughing loudly over the memories.

Even though Brenda promised Jeff that she would be home, she stayed at my place. Having too much to drink, neither of them could drive, and the price of a cab all the way out to her suburb would be enough to send one of her children to college.
Chapter Four

Movie Day

The next afternoon, after dropping my sister off, I took her children to a movie, a cartoon called Wendy's Wish. The film had been adapted from the first pre-teen novel I ever wrote. We went for ice cream afterwards at Rainbow Crème, my favorite ice cream shop that was inconveniently located one block from my apartment building. Even though I worked a lot, I always seemed to have time for a trip up the street for two scoops of rocky road. If I was really feeling dangerous, I'd choose caramel chocolate crunch.

Since the place was also close to the theatre, the bright orange Formica booths were filled with ice cream–stained kids that had followed us from the movie.

A little girl at the table across from us was concentrating hard on her scoop of vanilla, peering at it through pink heart-shaped lenses. Melted cream dripped from her chin onto her yellow rubber-duck jacket.

High-pitched squeals and laughter filled the room as the children discussed my movie. Yes, I didn't technically write the screenplay, nor have much say after it was approved, but since I wrote the original story, in my mind, I considered it mine. The producers did involve me in choosing the actors, and watching them record the voices was interesting. Although I really didn't understand the production of it, trying to figure out how the animation came to life was confusing. I usually just sat back and listened, acting like I understood what they were saying.

"Isn't that the same story from one of your books, Aunt Abby?" Justin asked, pulling me from my thoughts as he licked the tiger-tail ice cream that trickled down his arm in a thin orange and black streak.

I sat across from him, a banana split waiting in front of me, Haley beside me on the cushioned bench. He glanced up, blue-gray eyes wide with curiosity waiting for an answer. "Yes. Do you remember when I told you that a big producer asked me if they could make a movie based on my book, and I said yes?"

He nodded, licked, and swallowed. "But how did they make it, and how did they make those people into cartoons? Can they make me into one?"

Keeping a straight face was usually difficult when speaking to this kid and the idea of him thinking he could become a cartoon was so comical, a laugh snuck out. "You would be interesting as an animated character. But they didn't make anyone into a cartoon. They draw pictures on a computer and then they make them come alive on the screen. Then people recorded their voices so they can match it with the character drawings."

His eyes widened. "Cool. Can I put my voice on one?"

I shook my head. "Probably not."

I turned to Haley, who had been quiet longer than usual. She was holding her tongue out and spinning the cone to catch the melted bubble gum ice cream. Some of it was smeared over almost every inch of her adorable face. I took out a tissue from my purse and wiped her off. "Okay, you two, let's get you home before your clothes are covered, and your mother won't let me take you out again." When they finished eating, I removed the remaining ice cream that covered their arms and faces, then headed for their place.

Brenda lived outside of the city, about a twenty-minute drive, not far from where we grew up. "Hey, sis. Ready or not, your kids are here," I yelled, after letting myself into her two-story colonial. I envied her; I couldn't wait to buy a house someday, instead of my apartment in the city. Right now it was fine, but like Brenda, I wouldn't want to raise kids in the city. It was crowded, noisy, and not exactly as clean as the suburbs. It wasn't often you'd find a Dumpster overflowing with garbage around here, or a homeless person sprawled out against the trees.

"Hey, you made it back in one piece, I see," Brenda said, coming out of the kitchen.

"You were worried about them?" I fell into the comfy leather couch that faced the large picture window, a perfect place to sit and watch the view of the park across the street. Swing sets, slides, climbers, rocking horses, and even a pond in the center waited for kids to come and play. It was a peaceful view; the grass that surrounded it all was brown with the occasional green blade sticking up, craving the sunlight still shining bright. Shrubs, marigolds, and petunias were planted throughout the park. Mothers could sit on the iron benches that were conveniently located in the shade, while their kids played. I watched a girl hang upside down on a climber; her long tresses flowing down in liquid, bluish-black ink to the dirt below.

I turned from the scene to my sister, who sat in the overstuffed armchair beside me. A book lay open on the end table. She must have taken the free time away from her kids to catch up on some reading.

"No, I was worried about you. I thought you might have a hangover, and my kids talk a lot," she explained absently, playing with the pages of the novel I couldn't see the title of.

"I told you this morning before I took you home that I was fine. What about you? Hungover? You're older; I can handle it better than you."

A snort escaped her lips. "Bite your tongue. And two years doesn't count as older." She rolled her eyes, rubbing the soft arm of the chair with her hand. "Do you want to stay for dinner? Jeff's cooking chicken on the grill."

"How can I say no to barbequed chicken? Do you have any wine?"

"Of course. What am I, a barbarian?" She stood up and walked into the kitchen.

I followed her into the large, airy room and sat down on one of the stainless steel stools in front of the island. "Why don't we take it out on the deck? We can watch Jeff cook."

"Sounds good to me."

Outside, I lay on a lounge chair sipping my wine, enjoying the beautiful weather, listening to two finches fight over a worm in the big oak tree that Jeff had carved the kids' names on. The smell of barbeque teased the air, mingling with the slight scent of lilacs.

"So, Abby," Jeff began, turning to look at me. He closed the lid of the grill and took a sip of beer. "My wife tells me you were falling all over some cop last night." He grinned. "Did he cuff you?"

"Uh...no. And I wasn't falling all over him. We danced a couple of times." I pointed at him with my free hand. "And if there was any falling, it was him." Why did I sound so defensive? So what if he asked me to dance all night and tried to kiss me without asking for my number? I was an independent woman; I certainly did not need some hottie cop falling all over me.

"Did you give him your phone number?" Brenda asked me. She was perched in a lounge chair beside me leaning back against the head rest; her long silky hair hung over the edge.

"No. He didn't ask for it." I noticed her eyebrows knit together, and I quickly asked, "What?" My tone was more defensive than I would have liked.

She sat up, taking her wine glass off the white plastic table between us. She took a sip and swallowed. "Nothing, but I'm surprised. He seemed really into you."

"Not enough, I guess. Debbie and Brian exchanged numbers though."

"Does that bother you?"

Maybe, but I definitely wasn't going to admit it. "No, I'm happy for her. I know everyone else thinks I should have a man. But I'm happy with my life."

The sympathetic expression that crossed her face annoyed me. I didn't need her pity. It was just a guy, no big deal. Thankfully, Jeff saved me from having to hear what she was about to say. "Dinner's ready. Brenda, do you want to bring the salads and plates out?"

"I'll help." I jumped up before she could say anything more.

Thankfully, the subject was forgotten as we made our way into the kitchen to get the rest of the meal.

"Kids, come on, dinner's ready," Brenda yelled, taking down plates, while I carried the macaroni and potato salads outside. We almost dropped our load as the kids ran by us, racing to see who could get to the table first.

"I won," Justin proclaimed, slapping the patio table top with a loud smack. The glass and metal shook in protest.

"You cheated. Mommy, he cheated," Haley shrieked, yanking on her mother's coral top.

"Could you give me a break, just until we're finished eating?" Brenda's voice was almost as whiny as Haley's.

Once Jeff set the platter of juicy meat on the table, we dug in, listening to the kids bicker. They fought about their elbows touching, Haley's extra scoop of salad, and Justin's foot on her side, under the table. And why couldn't they have chocolate cake for supper, instead of icky meat and cold potatoes.

I have to be honest; it was a relief when the last dish was put away, and I could escape to my peacefully quiet home, where the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock.

With the kids' shrill voices still echoing in my mind, I fell into the Jacuzzi tub with candlelight and soft music, hoping to clear my head. The bubbles and jets worked their magic, and by the time I climbed out I was relaxed and ready for bed.

Water dripped on the tile floor as I reached for my robe, when the phone rang. Clutching the towel I had wrapped around me, I rushed into my bedroom, tripping on a shoe and falling face first on the bed. With the towel falling off, I answered, annoyed. "Hello!"

"Uh...hi, is Abby there?"

Oh God. I thought it was my mother, but the voice on the other end was too deep. "Yes. This is Abby," I replied in a much more pleasant tone.

After a soft chuckle, I heard, "It's Nick, how are you?"

Excitement ran though my body at the sound of his voice. "Nick? How did you get my phone number?" My voice was casual, but in my head I was shouting, Wahoo!

"I'm a detective, remember? I have my ways."

"Did Debbie give it to Brian?"

"Yep."

"That is good detective work." I couldn't help but smile, enjoying the banter we had going.

Another deep chuckle. "Thanks. How were you feeling this morning?"

"Fine. I didn't drink that much."

"That's good." From the other end of the phone I heard a noise that sounded like a nervous sigh. "Listen, I decided to take you out to dinner tomorrow night."

In my head I was shouting, Yeah! But of course I had to play it cool. "Did you now? Do I have a say in this?"

"No."

I laughed at his demanding words that sounded opposite to the humor in his voice. "Sure, I'd love that."

"Great. I'll pick you up at six. Where do you live?"

I gave him my address and after a few more minutes of light chatter, he let me go, since he was still on a shift.

My mood lightened considerably after I hung up, even with the sore toe. I treated myself to another glass of wine and a bowl of pretzels before falling asleep reading a book. I might not have been hung over from last night, but I was up pretty late, which didn't happen often.
Chapter Five

First Date

The next evening, shortly before Nick was set to arrive, I stood in the mirror gazing at my reflection. I had to admit I looked good. Since I'm not one to put much effort into my appearance, it was nice to dress up for a change. I had stopped work early to prepare, choosing a short-sleeve red dress that fell to my knees. Feeling sassy, I pulled my golden hair up in a twist, with loose strands framing my face. To finish off the look, I was even wearing heels. Bright red spiked ones that hurt my feet, but hey, you only live once, right? They looked good and that was all that mattered.

The last time I wore this dress was at my second cousin Alfred's snore-fest of a wedding, a year ago. To say the night was dull was putting it lightly. The minister's voice was monotone, reminding me of the teacher from the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The words "anyone, anyone" popped in my head as I listened to him and waited for him to say it at the part of the objections. I was surprised when he didn't. It was hard to keep my head upright throughout the ceremony.

The doorbell rang at exactly six o'clock, and after a final peek in the mirror, I opened the door.

Nick was oh-so-handsome in a blue button-down shirt and charcoal sport coat. Instead of dress pants, he wore jeans. The look made him appear sexy—respectable with a touch of recklessness.

He smiled, making the corners of his dark eyes crinkle as he handed me the bouquet of white and pink lilies he held in his hand.

My fingers grazed his as I took the flowers. "Thank you so much, they're beautiful." I loved flowers; for some reason, they always made me smile, no matter how depressed or upset I was. The sight of them in my apartment brightened my day. I can't really say why I felt so strongly over something so simple, but the only reason I could think of was my mother's prized sunflowers.

My father always joked about my mother having a blue thumb, not purple, not quite green either. Every year she planted a large garden and every year most of them died; either she watered them too much, or not enough. The only ones that flourished were the sunflowers, lined along our red-brick house; behind the wilted peonies and the dead petunias. The yellow and brown flowers almost reached the top of our living room picture window; the heads were always the size of dinner plates. After my father died, though, she gave up on gardening altogether. But they still made me smile.

"Come in while I put these in some water," I said to Nick as I closed the door behind him, breathing in the delicious scent of the lilies.

"You know, I never asked what it was you did for a living." He pointed to my computer, sitting in the corner of the living room; stacks of paper littered the desk and shelves above.

"I'm a writer. I write children's books."

"Oh really, would I know any?"

"That depends. Do you buy many books for kids?"

A flash of something that resembled guilt crossed his face. "Ah...no. I do have a niece and a nephew, but on their birthdays I usually go for toys." He followed me into the kitchen, watching as I took out a vase and poured water into it, the cool liquid rising to just below the small crack in the blue crystal.

"You can't go wrong with toys. Most kids prefer them to books." I dropped the flowers into the water and placed the vase onto the table. "Are you ready?" I stood back and admired the bouquet, the scent already drifting in the air, mixing with the smell of onions from the burger I had for lunch.

Leaning against the kitchen doorway, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, a lazy smile on his lips. "I am. We're going to McDonald's."

"Umm... I like McDonald's." My gaze slid down to my dress and heels. "But I might be overdressed."

He laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm taking you to Marco's."

We both wandered back into the living room. "Oh, I love that restaurant. They have the best pasta in town." I pulled my black wrap off the coat rack and swung it around my shoulders, the soft silk smooth against my skin.

"I'm friends with the owner." He opened the door and waited as I locked it, then together, we headed for the elevator.

"Really? That's cool." I pushed the button bedside the elevator for the first floor.

"Yeah, I grew up with Marc; he's always been into cooking. When we were kids, my other friends and I thought it was kind of girly, but he's doing great. I'm happy for him."

When the elevator arrived, we headed down to the lobby, making small talk about our jobs.

A red Chevy Tahoe sat in front of my building and right away, I knew it was his. It was either that, or the black Ford Focus in front of it and for some reason, I knew he wouldn't drive a car. Maybe it was the comment about cooking being girly, but my impression of him was a little on the macho side, which wasn't necessarily a bad sign.

Once we were inside the vehicle, he pulled onto the street and drove to the restaurant listening to classic rock.

"Nick. Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you in ages." A man about our age, with slicked black hair, bushy eyebrows, and a warm friendly smile gave Nick one of those, quick-slap-on-the-back guy hugs. We were standing at the hostess stand waiting to be seated, when he approached.

"I've been too busy making detective to go out to dinner." They pulled apart, both sets of deep brown eyes focusing on me. "Marc, I want you to meet Abby. Abby, this is one of my oldest friends, Marc."

"It's nice to meet you. I love your restaurant."

"Abby, you're beautiful." He grinned. "How long have you known our Nick?"

"Just a few days."

His eyebrows went up. "Oh, your first date? Well, come on then, I'll see that you get a great table." He took my hand and led me to the back of the restaurant where there was a beautiful view of a fountain, the centerpiece of the restaurant. It stood about ten feet tall, clear glass tiers, with water spouting out the top, trickling down into an enormous clear basin. Lights glimmered in the water, creating an almost magical feel. It was like a floating water sculpture. The sound of the running water was soothing, a complement to the calming music that drifted around us, mixed with the smell of tomato and spices. The lights were dim, with flickers of candlelight glowing throughout the room. The ambience was one of romance; this was the place to take a date. Jason, my ex, used to bring me here.

He gestured to an empty, cozy two-seater, with a black vase and red rose placed in the center. We sat down on the buttery-smooth leather chairs and I noted the slight scent of cinnamon floating out of a candle. "Let me know if you need anything. Enjoy your meal." As Marco walked away, I thought I saw him give a thumbs-up to Nick.

We were just looking at our menus when a waiter came to our table with a bottle of Chardonnay. "Compliments of Marco," he said, pouring us each a glass and then placing it on the center of the table. "Are you ready to order, or would you like more time?" His grin was wide, almost forced, hoping for a large tip, I guessed.

"I think we need more time, thank you," Nick replied, still browsing his menu.

The waiter nodded and rushed away.

"Do you know what you want?" He glanced at me over his menu, the reflection of the candle's flame dancing in his eyes.

"Yes. I think I'll have the lasagna. I don't have it often and it's the best here. What about you?"

"I like their sausage penne." His eyes darted back down at the choices. "But maybe I'll have something less spicy. Just in case I get lucky and you give me a goodnight kiss." He didn't turn away from the pages as he made the remark, but the corners of his lips turned up into an almost smile.

He was flirting with me, and I did love a good flirt. "We'll see." I lifted my glass up, holding it in front of me. "And I don't mind a little spice."

He grinned, giving me a slight nod. "What do you do in your free time?" he asked, setting his menu down, apparently having made his decision. He took a sip of his wine.

What free time? "Well, I work a lot, so I don't have much of it. But when I do, I like to read and spend time with my niece and nephew." Leaning back in my chair, I closed my menu, placing it on top of his. "Actually, I took them to a movie yesterday."

"Oh yeah. Which one?"

"Wendy's Wish."

"Oh, I bet they liked it. I was over at my brother's last week and that's all his kids could talk about. Did you guys enjoy it?"

His words were flattering, even if he didn't realize it. I blushed, not always comfortable with praise. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. "Yes, they did. My nephew asked how they made those people into cartoons."

He laughed. "Was it hard to sit through? I've never had to take them, but I imagine it would be a long hour and a half, watching a cartoon geared for kids."

I chuckled slightly to myself, since he didn't know what was funny. "Um...no. The characters were so much like the book and the colors were wonderfully vivid. It was surreal to see my story come to life."

He squinted at me. "What do you mean?"

Embarrassed to say any more, I looked down at my hands. "The movie was taken from the first pre-teen book I had published."

"Seriously? Your book was made into a movie?" he asked, shock spread all over his face.

I took another sip of my wine, avoiding eye contact, hoping to calm my sudden jitters. I wasn't one to brag and just bringing it up felt like boasting. But not to mention that part of my work felt like I was hiding something. "I'm serious. I even helped pick the actors voices for the characters."

Looking somewhat dumbfounded, he asked, "What's it about?"

"An orphan girl named Wendy. She finds a coin on the street and tosses it into a fountain, making a wish. When she leans over trying to find her coin, the fountain sucks her into a different world where everything is animated."

He leaned forward, obviously interested. "What was her wish?"

"Well, you don't find out what it was until the end of the book, but I'll tell you." I paused, raising a brow. "Can you guess?"

The dim light made his deep eyes appear black as they narrowed in concentration. "A family?" he guessed.

I smiled with a slight nod. "Close. A home, and she finds one and creatures to love, inside the fountain."

"Wow. How many books have you written?"

Suddenly anxious, I fidgeted with my cutlery, the knife and spoon making a light tinkling sound as I knocked them together. "Fifteen. I just started a new series for kindergarten and younger."

"That's so awesome, Abby," he said sincerely. "Nicky and Bobby would love to meet you. They're my brother Rob's kids. I also have a niece from my sister Tina, but she's only a month old."

The eager waiter rushed over after Nick raised his hand to let him know we were ready. Nick recited our orders without looking up from the menu or a confirming glance in my direction. I chose to take his ordering for me as a sign of him being a cop, always in charge. Once we were alone again, I took a piece of bread from the basket and buttered it. In need of a subject change, I asked, "So you have a brother and a sister?"

He nodded, chewing his own piece of rye and then swallowed. "Mm-hmm, Rob's the oldest, I'm the middle child, and Tina's the baby. I was a little annoyed that she got married and started a family before me. Maybe it was the middle child syndrome, needing attention from my parents, who knows?" He paused as he washed the bread down with a sip of wine. "But I just didn't have the time to meet anyone. When you're a rookie on the force, you want to prove yourself to everyone and eventually I wanted to make detective to prove to myself that I could."

"Do you have a specialty? Homicide or Narcotics? I have no idea what I'm talking about, only what I see on TV." I felt awkward, hoping that I didn't sound stupid.

"No, you said it right. Actually I'm on Robbery. We usually focus on stolen vehicles. There's a guy we suspect that runs a chop shop. We're just gathering evidence right now."

"You don't want Homicide, do you?" I glanced away at the sound of laughter bursting from a table across the way. A group of couples looked to be celebrating a birthday. A giant of a man with bright orange hair was sporting a pointed blue cardboard birthday hat, a sight that the rest of his party apparently found funny.

I turned back to Nick as he sat back in his chair, looking comfortable. "I did at one time. It's considered the highest detective position, but the hours suck. When you're on a murder investigation, it doesn't matter the last time you slept. If there's a lead, it can't wait."

His description wasn't that appealing. I could just imagine endless nights waiting for your man, not knowing if he'd come home or not. Wondering if he was lying in a gutter somewhere shot from a perp high on crack. What was wrong with me? Was it the writer in me that let my imagination run away like this? I needed to stop and just enjoy the rest of the date.
Chapter Six

Suzie

While we waited for our food to arrive, he told me an amusing story about a bust he helped out with last week. An older man living in the garage of his daughter's house was stealing bikes, all black ones. He was in the early stages of Alzheimer's and thought he was picking up the same bike over and over. His grandson had left his two-wheeler on the side of the street a few weeks ago, and he had picked it up for him. Now, whenever he saw one that looked the same as he went for his daily walk along the neighborhood, he'd do it again, thinking it was his grandson's. I laughed softly, feeling sad for the poor man and his family. I had lost my father suddenly, but at least I didn't have to see him suffer, and the thought of him not recognizing me was painful.

Nick had just finished his story when the waiter brought our dinner. My meal was, as I knew it would be, delicious. "Do you want to try my lasagna?" I asked, holding out my fork.

He glanced up from his plate, his expression turning from confusion to something that resembled disgust. It vanished quickly, but I had seen it. I retracted my arm and took the bite, feeling embarrassed. After I swallowed, I said, "Sorry, I'm just use to eating with Debbie and Brenda. We always trade."

"No, it's fine. I just had my mouth full." His smile was sincere. Maybe I had imagined the look of revulsion. It didn't matter though; my food was too good to share.

Nick finished his meal while I stared longingly down at my plate, wishing I could stuff just one more scrumptious morsel into my mouth. It wasn't possible though; my stomach was full to capacity. I pushed my plate away just as Marco strolled over carrying a chocolate mousse. "I hear you called this in this morning, Nick," he said, nodding to his friend. "You're lucky you ordered ahead of time, or you'd be out of luck."

"I remember from the last time I asked, and was denied." His voice held a hint of annoyance.

Marco's brow furrowed before a smirk appeared. "That was your date with what's her name?" Shaking his head he added, "She wouldn't have eaten it anyway. All she had was a small salad. You can't trust a girl that eats like a bird." I laughed, thinking of my lunch with Debbie. I'd have to tell her Marco's theory. He turned to me, his hand leaning on the back of my chair. "Did you enjoy your meal, Abby?"

"I did, and I'm stuffed. Like I told Nick earlier, you have the best pasta in town."

Marco smiled, turning to Nick. "She said that?"

"She did."

"Don't let this one go. Now enjoy the mousse, it's also the best in town." He gave me a wink, and then walked away, heading for the kitchen. I cringed at the thought of eating dessert. I was so full, if I was wearing pants, I'd pop a button. But what could I do? He went to so much trouble by pre-ordering it; I had to have at least a small piece.

Nick placed the knife on the mousse, tracing two lines on the creamy chocolate, raising his eyebrows at me in question.

"Smaller please." I watched as he cut a thin slice and placed it on a plate for me, taking a larger one for himself.

Taking a bite of the velvety, smooth chocolate, I was pleasantly surprised by the flavor. "Mmm, that is fabulous. I've never had chocolate mousse before. God, I've been missing out."

"Well, I have, and Marc's right, this is the best."

I took another bite and savored it, wishing I could have more, but knowing if I did I might vomit on my date, which probably would ensure that there would not be a second one. "So who was the girl you brought here last time?" Setting my spoon onto the table, I leaned back in my chair, hoping a breather would help my bursting stomach.

He winced, lifting up his wine glass, holding it midair. "I was hoping you'd forget you heard that. He's not very smart talking about another woman while I'm out with someone as beautiful as you."

My cheeks heated as I stared down at my half gone dessert, feeling uncomfortable with his words to describe my appearance. "Oh, come on, I know you've dated before."

"Well, my brother set me up, and it didn't go very well. She was a bit of an airhead, had the personality of a tree." I laughed. "Anyway, he doesn't do that anymore."

"I've had a few setups myself. And after the last one, I'd rather eat glass."

His lips turned upwards as he lifted his wine glass. "To horrible blind dates and never having them again."

I touched my glass to his with a clink, the white liquid sloshing inside, before taking a tiny sip.

I absently lifted my locket, rubbing the lace on the front; the metal was cool against my skin.

"Your locket is pretty. Is there a picture in it?" he asked, pointing with his fork.

"Yes, of my mother and father. My dad gave it to me when I was eight. I lost it a year after he died. I was heartbroken. My mother found it last week. Now I'm never taking it off. That way I'll never lose it again." Just the feel of it around my neck gave me comfort.

"When did your father die?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat that usually accompanied that question. My father's death was still a vivid memory in my thoughts after all this time. "When I was twelve."

Placing his hand over mine, he said softly, "I'm sorry." The gesture was sweet, and I appreciated it.

The waiter came and cleared our plates, interrupting before the tears started.

Outside my apartment, while we sat in his pine-scented SUV, with Aerosmith playing through the speakers, he laid his large hand on my thigh. Heat seeped through the material of my dress. "I had a great time with you tonight, Abby. I hope we can do this again sometime."

Meeting his gaze, I replied, "Me too, and thanks again for dinner." My hand clasped onto the handle, preparing to open the door slowly. I wasn't really sure what to do, when he reached out to stop me. I turned to see him leaning toward me. His fingers gently brushed my cheek, and then his lips touched mine softly. Moving closer, I returned the kiss. It didn't last long, but it sent sparks flying. "Goodnight," I whispered, opening the door and stepping out.

I watched his vehicle pull away through the glass front doors of the building and then with a sigh I headed upstairs.

A little later, as I lay in bed under my warm duvet with a book leaning open on my chest, too preoccupied to read, I thought of the evening. As dates went, I had to admit it was pretty good. He was sexy, sweet, charming, and a good listener, and he seemed to care about what I said, unlike some other dates I'd had in the past. Their eyes would glaze over as I spoke, waiting for the moment when they could bring the conversation back to themselves.

He kept up his long-time friendship with Marco and it sounded like he was close to his family, all signs that he cared about his relationships. Picking up my book, I tried to read again, hoping to take my mind off the man who had suddenly moved into my thoughts, suitcases and all.

Just as I was getting into a hot sexy love scene, the shrill sound of the phone interrupted me. Reaching for my cell on the nightstand, I managed a soft, "Hello?"

"Just wanted to make sure you made it up to your apartment safely and to tell you again how much I enjoyed your company." Nick's voice was low on the other end.

I smiled, falling back against my pillow. "I'm home safe. And I had a good time too."

"Good. I'll take you out on Wednesday. I'm usually off at three unless something comes up. We can go to a baseball game."

"Who's playing?"

He made a raspy deep sound that sounded like a chuckle. "The Monkeys. The best Little League team in the city."

"Your nephew?" I asked, laying my paperback down on the pillow next to me.

"Niece. She found out I had the night off and has been bugging me to come and watch her. I hear they'll have no problem beating the Warriors."

I laughed. "Sure, sounds fun." I could hear music in the background and a car horn; I realized he was still driving. I couldn't decide how I felt about the fact that he called before he even made it home, but I felt a tingle of something similar to giddiness in the pit of my stomach.

"I'll pick you up at six. I'll even buy you a hot dog." His voice on the phone was deep and sultry.

Fingering the edge of the mattress, I replied, "Well, I definitely can't say no now."

Another raspy chuckle. "Sweet dreams, Abby."

"Goodnight, Nick."

I hung up, grabbed my book and read until my eyelids started to droop. When I finally closed them, all I could see was the image of us kissing in his car and realized I couldn't wait to see him so we could do it again.

I dreamed I was inside the story of one of my novels, but instead of Petunia the little witch, lost in the creaky bone forest, it was me, walking along the muddy path. And I was being pelted with monkey feces, which was strange considering in the actual tale Petunia was hit with Tootsie Rolls.

A booming voice echoed through the trees, soaring with the wind. "Abby, it's me." For a moment I thought it was God, but since the voice was female, that idea was highly unlikely. I tried to ignore the loud intrusive words as I teetered on a rickety old bridge made of what looked like femur bones tied together with dental floss. I had just about reached the safe, solid ground when the loud voice started up again. "Abby!" the person bellowed, making the bones and the forest disappear.

I awoke slowly, hearing Debbie's voice on the answering machine, yelling for me to pick up. I reached over to my nightstand searching for the phone. Once I felt the hard plastic handset, I pushed the talk button. "Hello," I groaned groggily.

"You sound perky. Why didn't you answer the phone? How did your date go? Why are you still asleep?" Debbie's voice was loud and full of questions.

My head throbbed just trying to process and answer each of her inane queries. Rubbing my fingers onto my temples I breathed in deeply. "Debbie, why are you calling so early?" My voice was muffled as I spoke into my fluffy silk pillow.

"It's nine. You're usually up by now. What time did you get home?"

"Ten, but I read until two."

"Figures. So, how did it go? I need details."

As I brushed the hair out of my eyes, I turned over, staring up at the white stippled ceiling, concentrating on a small crack near the low-hanging light fixture. "There's not much to tell," I said. "He took me to Marco's, who by the way is Nick's friend. We ate dinner and talked, then he gave me a goodnight kiss."

"How was it?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

I closed my eyes, remembering my time in his car, almost smelling the pine scent of the air freshener hanging from his rear-view mirror, hoping to prolong the kiss next time. "Firm lips," I finally answered.

She sighed dreamily. "Hmm, I like those."

"And he's taking me to his niece's Little League game on Wednesday."

"Meeting the family? He must be smitten." The sound of tapping came from her end of the phone, which meant she was drumming her pen on her desk. An irritating habit she'd had since we were roommates in college. "Hopefully he can get you out of your apartment more than once a month."

I grinned; her constant nagging was a strange comfort. Something I could always count on. Although she didn't have to know I felt that way. "I choose to ignore that comment because I'm in a good mood. Now if there's something you wanted besides your usual insults on my personal life, I should get up and get to work." I lay still on my bed, with no intention of getting out of it—yet.

"My daily insults are what keep me going." She laughed. "By the way, how is the book coming?" Her voice switched to professional mode.

"Great, I'll probably finish the first draft today and the rest by the end of the week."

"Good. Okay, I got to go. See you later."

I hung up, wrapped my blanket tightly around my neck, and fell back to sleep, where I stayed for another hour until my growling stomach woke me.

After my shower, I wolfed down a bowl of cereal while standing at the counter. Now that I was finally finished procrastinating, I sat down to write the final few pages. Suzie's return journey home on the bus. She saw many different types of people and watched closely as a mother shushed her baby. A blind man with his hand on a seeing-eye dog. A little boy crying, because he dropped his ice cream cone. Suzie's day was full of adventure and she couldn't wait for the next one.

I scrolled back to the first page and began my rewrite.

The rest of the morning flew by. I enjoyed editing; that was my opportunity to breathe life into the story, now that the basic plot was laid out. I often compared it to painting ceramics. My mother forced me to take a class with her when I was younger, where I painted a puppy. Once the base coat was applied, I learned to dry brush with a lighter color, making the fur appear almost lifelike. I still have the little pug, sitting on my dresser.

When I finished half, I took a break. The book itself wasn't long, so I'd be finished by tomorrow, and then I'd start on the illustrations. Drawing wasn't my strong suit, so I sometimes hired an illustrator. However, if the story didn't call for detailed pictures, I usually tried to do them myself and this was an easy book. All that was needed was a house, Suzie, of course, the bus, and the mall. I had taken a few art classes, but drawing was not my passion, not like writing anyway, especially for children. When I was in college I dreamed of writing the great American novel. I longed to be the next Jane Austen or Charlotte Brontë, but after my niece and nephew were born, I changed my mind. Watching their faces come alive as I read a story to them made me rethink my goals. I had a few beginnings of novels stashed away for the future, but right now this was where I wanted to be in my career.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the cereal this morning. I glanced at the clock and saw that I had missed lunch. Pushing away from my desk, I dashed into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

My mind was on Suzie, contemplating her next adventure, while I poured juice into a glass. As an idea formed in my crowded brain, Suzie in a pink bodysuit and tutu, twirling around a ballet studio, I felt something liquid splash my bare toes. I absently glanced down to see that red fruit juice had formed a puddle around my foot. Damn it! My cup had overflowed and I was too preoccupied to notice. I wiped the mess up and took out some bread, ham, and cheese.

I assembled the sandwich, popping some cheese in my mouth as I prepared it. Then I grabbed a Coke out of the fridge and retreated to the living room to watch some TV while I ate.

It took me the rest of the day, but I finished the written part. Tomorrow I would start on the illustrations. Debbie called later to tell me about her date with Brian. He took her to his favorite pizza place and then the batting cages. She had a ball—pun intended.
Chapter Seven

The Monkeys

I was distracted as I did the drawings the next day. With thoughts of my upcoming date with Nick, I couldn't fully concentrate. By two o'clock, I gave up and went for a jog down at the waterfront to clear my head. Since it was a weekday, it felt like I had the trail to myself, with only a few other people out for a run. This was my favorite spot to go; the scents and sounds from the lake were exactly what I needed to settle down. I stopped for a fruit smoothie at one of the vendors, sitting down at a bench to watch the boats come into the marina. The sounds of the squawking gulls, diving for fish in the water, and the purr of the boat motors soothed me.

I glanced at my watch as I slurped the last of my drink, cringing at coldness of the ice. It was five o'clock. I only had an hour before my date, and I still had to get home. Throwing my cup into the garbage, I started back to my apartment. With only a half hour left, I headed straight for the shower.

The blow dryer was blaring so loud, I barely heard the knock. I turned it off and rushed for the door, yanking it open in time to see Nick turn and walk away. "Sorry, I had the blow dryer going," I called out to him, my voice echoed in the long corridor. "I lost track of time when I went for a run. Come in, I won't be long."

He stopped when I opened the door, turned around and made his way toward me. I wasn't sure, but from this distance he looked irritated. But as he got closer, I saw him smile—I must have imagined it.

Once he stood in front of me, he pulled me close, covering my mouth with his. When he drew away he grinned. "I've been waiting two days to do that."

"Was it worth the wait?" I asked, closing the door after he walked in.

"Oh, yeah. But it just makes me want to do it again, so you better go get ready or we'll miss the game."

I rushed back to my room, yelling, "Help yourself to a drink in the fridge if you want."

In my bedroom, I threw off my robe, dressed in a coral-colored tank and faded blue jeans, and applied eyeliner and lip gloss. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I slipped back out to the living room where Nick was standing looking at the papers I had pinned to the wall. They were the illustrations for my book.

"Don't you have a second room for an office?" His gaze never left the papers on the wall as he spoke.

"Yeah, but the window is bigger out here and I can listen to or watch TV as I work. It's only me here so my work area doesn't bother anyone."

He pointed to the page where Suzie sat on the bus looking at the seeing-eye dog. "Are these going to be the pictures for the book you're working on?"

"Yeah, it's about a little girl and her big adventure to the mall."

"Cool." He turned around and looked at me, taking in my appearance. "Are you ready?"

I picked up my purse and pulled out my keys. "Let's go."

He took my hand and led me to the door, after I locking it, we headed to the elevator.

When the doors slid open, Sylvia stood inside, flipping through envelopes, and didn't look up right away. She almost walked into me, the scent of spearmint hovering in the air. I reached out to stop her. "Hey, Sylvia. Looking for something?"

She glanced up absently and then noticed that I had company. She grinned, lighting up the gray of her eyes. "Hi, Abby, where you off to?"

"To a Little League game, his niece is playing. Nick, this is my neighbor, Sylvia. Sylvia, this is Nick."

Her grinned widened. "It's so nice to meet you."

He smiled back at her, his brow furrowed slightly, looking a little confused by her expression. "You too, Sylvia."

When the elevator door started to close, we slipped inside, waving at her as it shut.

"What was that about?" Nick asked while he pushed the button for the lobby.

What was I supposed to tell him? "Oh, don't mind her. She's just shocked to see me with someone from the opposite sex. And in the year I've known her, this was the first time with someone other than a male friend and that was only once." No way was I going to tell him how pathetic I was. "Who knows? Sylvia's old and senile," I replied, feeling guilty instantly. The truth is she was the healthiest seventy-five-year-old woman I knew, albeit maybe the only seventy-five-year-old woman I knew.

We pulled up to Lincoln Park, which held about five baseball diamonds, a playground and a soccer field. The park was extremely busy; there were games in progress on both the baseball diamonds and the soccer field. Even the playground was filled with kids climbing all over the equipment. The sounds of parents yelling were almost as loud as the children's squeals of delight. The air smelled of grease, which must have been coming from a concession stand situated next to the bleachers.

I followed Nick to the back, where a sign announced the Monkeys and the Warriors game. They had already started when we sat down on the bleachers beside a tall man with thick brown hair and a mustache. Next to him was a pretty woman with her hair in a braid. "Are the Monkeys winning?" Nick asked him, taking some popcorn out of the bag that was sitting on the bench.

"Not yet, just started," the man said, staring down at the game. He quickly glanced over and noticed me, a wide grin spread across his tanned face. "Who's this? No, don't tell me, it's the hot blond from the bar, right?"

I blushed; I had never been described as hot.

"Uh... thanks, jackass. Are you trying to embarrass me?"

This must be his brother, Rob.

"I'm always trying to embarrass you. That's what brothers are for. Now stop being rude and introduce us."

"If you would shut up for a second, I would," Nick said as he punched him in the arm. "Abby, this is my big brother, Rob. Rob, this is Abby. And the girl beside him who is entirely too good for him is his wife, Heather."

I leaned over, clasping the large hand Rob offered. Despite the size, his grip was gentle. When I shook Heather's hand, she didn't look or smile at me. Her skin was cold.

"Go, Bobby!" she yelled, dropping my hand and standing up. For some reason I had the feeling she was trying to avoid me.

"And that little girl down there who just got a home run is my niece Bobby." I followed his finger and saw a girl about ten. She was wearing a brown jersey with the name Monkeys on the front and a matching ball cap turned backward on top of a very long dark brown messy braid. She was doing a little victory dance and giving her teammates high-fives.

"She's cute."

Nick smiled, his face taking on the expression of a proud uncle. "And the boy down there in front of the concession stand, the one with the mustard- and ketchup-covered T-shirt, is my nephew Nicky." I saw a little boy about seven eating a hot dog with the wiener hanging out, about to fall out of the bun. He had light brown hair like his mother and was wearing grass-stained jeans to go with his stained T-shirt.

"Go, Jimmy, run," Rob yelled at a little boy with red hair who had just bunted the ball. "He's getting much better, Bill," Rob called to the guy in front of us."

The man who must be Bill turned around, the glare from the falling sun glistening off his glasses. "Yeah, we've been practicing in the back yard when I get home from work."

"Well, it's definitely helping," Rob replied.

I tuned out the two men, as they discussed techniques to help their kids improve their batting average and focused on the game. The air was cooler with the falling sun and I wished I had thought to bring a sweater. I crossed my arms trying to take the chill away.

The rest of the eight innings were intense. The kids played and had fun. But the parents yelled, held their breaths and screamed at the umpire. You'd think it was an all-star game at Yankee Stadium the way they carried on. In the ninth inning Nick and Rob started talking about a robbery case Nick was working on. Rob was an officer as well, but he was Homicide, just like his father had been before he made captain. I felt a little out of place, so I leaned over to talk to his sister-in-law. "Heather," I called. She reluctantly turned to face me, leaning around her husband. "What do you do for a living?"

She had a polite but brisk expression on her face. "I'm a kindergarten teacher. You?" she asked, even though I knew she really didn't care.

"I write children's books."

Her face brightened slightly. "Really? Anything I'd know?" I hated this question. Sometimes I felt like I was bragging. But I was the one who started the conversation. I listed some titles that weren't that known.

Nick must have heard what I said, because he looked away from his brother and grinned at Heather. "She also wrote Wendy's Wish."

Shock and awe crossed her face briefly. She quickly recovered, but her smile was slightly more genuine. "Seriously, you're Abigail Watson? You wrote Wendy's Wish, the one that was just turned into a movie?"

A wave of embarrassment washed over me as it always did when I was the center of attention. "Yep."

"That's so cool. My kids loved that book and movie. And I just read it to my classroom." Her voice became more animated, matching the surprised expression on her face. It was the most emotion I had seen from her where I was concerned since I sat down over an hour ago.

Thankfully, when Bobby hit another homerun, everyone stood up and screamed, forgetting all about my line of work.

The Monkeys won six to two. Bobby got three home runs. She was sweaty, her cheeks flushed, but her lips were spread in a permanent grin. After the game, her family rushed down the bleachers to congratulate her. I lingered on the bench feeling a little out of place. "Hey, Abby, how about that hot dog?" Nick called up to me after he gave his niece a high five.

"Sure. Thanks," I replied, starting down the bleachers, carefully avoiding a discarded bun with no burger, popcorn bags and bits of chips scattered along the seats. Once I stepped onto solid ground, I made my way to where he stood at the concession stand.

While I ate my hot dog, the crowd that had gathered around Bobby, giving her hugs and high fives, started to dwindle. "Uncle Nick, did you see that last home run? I slid home just like you showed me."

"I sure did." He turned her hat around, folding the peak. "Here, let me see that ball and I'll show you how to throw a curve ball." As he stepped through the gate and onto the grass of the baseball diamond, I found my gaze wandering down, catching a glimpse of his backside in jeans. Even though no one caught my stare, my cheeks heated with embarrassment.

Bobby followed Nick onto the field. When they were standing about ten feet apart, Nick tossed the ball in a curve. Bobby jumped up with her arm stretched out, but instead of catching it, the ball just grazed the tip of her glove, falling onto the grass.

I leaned against the fence and watched, taking another bite of my hot dog. Nick took long strides until he stood in front of her, taking her hands in his and then throwing the ball. Just as it flew into the sky above us, Rob rushed through the gate and caught it bare-handed. He spun on them with a grin.

"You like him, don't you?" a soft voice asked from beside me. My head spun toward the person who spoke. It was Heather, resting on the fence next to me. The cuff of her red baseball jersey caught onto the wire. I had been so wrapped up in Nick, Rob, and Bobby, I hadn't noticed her approach.

I nodded as my lips spread into a grin. "Yeah, I do. He's so sweet with your kids. He seems like a great guy." Just as I answered, Nicky rushed past us, slipping onto the field where the two men were tossing the ball to each other. Nicky jumped up, trying to intercept it, but the ball was way too high for him.

"If I were you, I'd find someone else." Heather's voice was low, just above a whisper. I turned my head to look at her again, to ask if I had heard her correctly, but she was walking away. "Okay, guys, time to go. It's bath night." She grabbed Nicky and lifted him up. Bobby joined her brother and mother.

They said their goodbyes and waved as they headed for a blue minivan. I watched as she helped the boy in and just as she slammed his door, she glared at me before climbing into the vehicle. I couldn't turn my gaze away from the van as it pulled out of the lot, wondering what her problem was with me. Was I not good enough for her brother-in-law?

"How about an ice cream cone?" Nick's voice startled me. I was lost in thought and was again caught off guard.

Shaking the unwanted thoughts of Heather from my mind, I said, "Sure."

He took my hand and led me to his SUV and like a gentleman he opened the door for me.

We pulled up to the marina and strolled slowly over to the ice cream stand. He ordered a chocolate for himself and a rocky road for me. We walked along the docks, looking at the boats and eating our ice cream cones.

"Your niece and nephew are adorable. Bobby's really good at baseball. Does Nicky have any interest?"

He smiled. "Yeah, he plays too, but he's still young."

"You're really good with them. Isn't it fun to spoil nieces and nephews? You spend time with them for a couple of hours and when you get tired, you can take them home."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I love to get them all hyped up and then send them back to their parents." He laughed as he took my hand and led me to the bench to sit down. I finished my ice cream after he did. I could feel goose bumps form along my arms. The air was even cooler by the lake.

"It's pretty here at night, watching the lights from the boats." I felt his finger gently touch my cheek. I turned my head just as he leaned in and brushed his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He took the kiss deeper, opening his mouth, and I felt a flutter in my stomach as his tongue brushed mine. We jumped apart at the sound of footsteps coming towards us. An older man was walking by wearing a wide grin.

Nick's face colored so slightly I might have imagined it. "Maybe I should take you home now."

"Good idea," I replied with a giggle.

As we walked hand in hand to his car, I felt giddy thinking about that kiss, hoping we could finish it soon.

Ten minutes later we were sitting in front of my building, with the car turned off. "I really want to walk you up." His voice was husky, his eyes hooded. "So I guess I should stay here."

Heat surged inside me. Was this going too fast, if both of our thoughts were heading this way? I really wanted to invite him up, but I knew that after that kiss, things might head in a direction I wasn't ready for. Instead, I turned to him and leaned in for a goodnight kiss. It lasted longer than I intended and when I felt his tongue touch mine, I felt the familiar pull inside my belly. Ignoring the alarm bells that were starting in my mind, I let him wrap his arms around me, drawing me tight against him.

Taking a quick gasp of air, he took the kiss deeper. When I drew back to take a breath, he started to kiss my neck. As a small moan escaped my lips, I decided it was time to go upstairs for a cold shower. "I should go," I whispered while his lips moved to my collar bone. "Thank you for a great evening."

He lifted his head slowly, gazing at me with dark, smoldering eyes. His lips that had just been busy driving me crazy turned upwards. "Yeah, I guess you should go before we give your neighbors a show."

I laughed. "Thanks again." I opened my door and stuck a leg out.

"Friday night," he said suddenly. I turned at the sound of his voice and raised a brow in question. "I'll cook for you at my place." He touched my arm to stop me from leaving.

The tightness in my belly turned to a tornado. "Sure, that sounds nice." I stepped out and walked to the door, careful not to turn around for fear one of us would change our minds. I was breathless as I made my way to the elevator, replaying our kiss as I waited for the doors to open. I hardly noticed the Murray twins screaming in their stroller as their mother fumbled with her mailbox key.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Brenda asked, sipping her coffee. We had just finished dinner and Jeff was giving the kids a bath, leaving us a chance to talk. It was Thursday night and Brenda had asked me over for dinner so I could tell her all about Nick.

"What does it mean big sister?" I stole a raspberry turnover off of the dessert tray and took a bite as I waited for her to enlighten me.

"Men don't cook unless they want something. That's how they seduce you."

"Yeah, I figured that one out all by myself. I'm not an idiot."

"I know, but it's been awhile since you were in a relationship. I wasn't sure if you'd remember."

I licked the raspberry off of my fingers. "Oh please, it wasn't that long ago that Jason moved away."

"One year and three months to be exact."

I stuck my tongue out at her, not bothered at all by the reminder. I was fine with my lack of love life; it just bothered everyone around me. "But who's counting, right?"

She took a turnover and held it in her fingers, staring at it. "Are you sure you're ready? You've only known him a week."

"I know, but I feel like I've known him longer. Plus we've talked on the phone every day. I'm ready, believe me." I couldn't stop the grin that was spreading across my lips as I winked at her. "Like you said, it's been over a year."

Still holding the turnover, she sighed heavily before taking a bite. "Fine, but I will need details," she mumbled with her mouth full.

I laughed as Jeff came down the stairs. "What did I miss?" he asked, taking a beer out of the fridge.

I wasn't going to tell him. Even though we were pretty close, I had no desire to discuss my love life with him. Unfortunately, Brenda didn't feel the same way.

"After a year of Abby's dry spell, she's finally going to take a dip in the pool," Brenda explained, which had me gasping and laughing at the same time.

Jeff stared at her, beer in hand, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean?"

Brenda sighed. "She's finally going up to bat." He shrugged his shoulders, still not understanding. "Taking the plunge?"

"Could you speak in real language please?"

She groaned. "She's finally going to do the nasty with Nick. There, is that spelled out enough for you?"

I laughed as Jeff finally realized what she was talking about. "They're going to have sex? Why the hell didn't you just say so?"

I stood up and grabbed my bag off the floor next to me. "Well, this has been fun discussing my love life, but I'm going home to plan what to wear tomorrow night."

Jeff twisted the top off his beer and tossed it onto the table, where it bounced twice before landing in the bowl of fruit. "Believe me, if he's getting sex, he won't care if you walk in wearing a potato sack."

"Thanks," I said, smirking at him. "See you later. I'll call you Saturday morning with details."

As I shut the door behind me, I heard Brenda yell, "You'd better."
Chapter Eight

Afterglow

I was nervous the next day. I couldn't help but worry about what was going to happen. I knew what he expected; like Brenda pointed out, when a man made you dinner, it was a sure sign he was hoping for more than just dessert afterward. I definitely wanted the same thing, but it had been so long. Would I remember how? What was I thinking? Of course I knew what to do. It was just like riding a bike. It would come back to me...right?

At about three o'clock, I had to stop writing. For some reason I couldn't get sex off my mind and it was a tad inappropriate for a pre-K book. I needed to figure out what to wear anyway and despite what Jeff had said I wanted it to be more special than a potato sack.

My mind was drawing a blank. A dress was too fancy, jeans too casual and really that was all that was in my closet. Two dresses and jeans. Maybe Debbie was right, I needed to shop more often.

After the third search through my closet, I finally decided on the black dress pants I usually reserved for meetings with publishers, and a silk shimmering silver blouse that Debbie had given me for my last birthday.

I left my hair down, but straightened it since I gave myself plenty of time and then finished the look off with dark-gray, smoky eyes. The makeup lady at Brown's department store had shown me how to do it, but I hadn't had a reason to use the technique until now.

The girl looking back at me in the mirror was ready for whatever came her way. The black pants hugged her legs nicely and the smooth soft silk of the blouse was low cut, showing just enough to give off a sexy vibe.

Nick lived outside of town, which meant I had to drive. When I reached my car a nervous knot formed in my gut and stayed there the whole way.

I pulled up to an older apartment building. The gray stone was aged; however, the grounds were clean and decorated with flower boxes that dotted the walkway. The building itself wasn't overly huge, just four levels, and from the windows it looked like there were two units per floor. Inside the entryway, it smelled of pineapple and coconuts.

I followed Nick's directions up to the fourth floor, and reluctantly knocked on 4B. The sound of soft jazz floated out of the door, which was surprising, I had him pegged for a strict classic rock fan. I liked the fact that he listened to more than one type of music. It showed that he had layers and I looked forward to getting to know each one. The door swung open just as I was about to knock again. He stood in front of me wearing a white apron covering dark jeans and deep-blue collared shirt. The apron had splashes of butter and other undistinguishable liquids all over it. His face was wearing a half grin as he took me in and I noticed a smudge of flour under his left eye. "Hi, are you on time or am I running late?" he asked, sounding flustered.

With a quick glance at my watch, I took in the time. "Well, you said six, and it's six now...so." I trailed off as he stared at me intensely. "What?" I asked, wondering if my mascara was running.

"You look beautiful," he answered as he stepped back to let me enter.

His comment left me flustered. I stepped forward as I brushed by and wiped the flour from his cheek with my thumb. With him so close I couldn't stop myself from pressing my lips against his and breathing in the scent of him.

He leaned into me. His body was warm and I felt the urge to curl up against it. Who needed to eat, let's just jump to dessert.

He pulled away first. "As much as I hate to stop you, the door is open and I really don't want to burn dinner."

Just as he mentioned the food, I smelled a delicious aroma wafting in the air. I stepped away from him and glanced around, the door closing behind me.

The apartment was all open concept, with the living room at the back, the kitchen to my left, and I was standing in the dining room. The table was set with matching plates and candles. My heart swelled at the sight of a bouquet of roses that sat in the center. I loved flowers. My thoughts briefly went to my parents, but I quickly pushed them away. Tonight was not the time to think of them. Talk about a mood killer. The soft music floated out of the speakers—the atmosphere was very romantic. "I like your place."

He stepped around me to slip into the kitchen and opened the oven, pulling out three small roasting pans. "Have a seat, there's sparkling wine on the table. It won't take long to plate these."

Doing as he instructed, I sat down on the wooden chair, noticing that one of the rungs on the back was loose. "It smells so good, Nick. What are we having?"

As he lifted food from the pans onto plates, he replied, "Rack of lamb, roasted red potatoes, and mini glazed carrots."

Wow. "That's sounds amazing. Did you order in and then just put the food in casserole dishes before I got here?" I asked smiling, hoping he heard the teasing in my voice.

He narrowed his eyes as he finished the second plate and then sauntered toward the table, placing a dish in front of me. "I thought of that." His lip twitched. "But I wanted to impress you, so I begged my mother to show me how to make this."

A warm fuzzy feeling flowed through me at the thought of him going to so much trouble. "That's so sweet, but you really didn't have to do all this."

He stepped back, placing the remaining plate on the table. "I wanted to." He leaned over me, his face inches from mine. "You're worth the effort, Abby." His voice was a whisper as he leaned in to kiss me. His hands moved up and down my side, creating a warm glow. The kiss didn't last long before he stood up and grinned. "The food is getting cold and I worked way too hard to let it go to waste." He took his seat across from me and we began to eat.

The meal was really good. The meat was juicy, potatoes were flavorful, and carrots sweet. "That was amazing," I said, pushing my plate away after taking the last bite.

He grinned, taking a sip of his wine. Once he swallowed he replied, "I'm glad you enjoyed it because it will never happen again." He winked. "Of course, if you want a grilled cheese sandwich or mac-and-cheese from a box, I'm your guy."

I laughed, reaching for my wine glass and took a drink. The bubbles danced on my tongue, adding to the giddiness I already felt.

We cleaned up the table and then the dishes. When the kitchen was spotless, we moved to the living room, to relax on the couch with another glass of wine.

"By the way, those roses are for you." he said, gesturing to the bouquet on the table. "I was too preoccupied by how good you looked to tell you when you first got here."

Again, I was flustered by his words. Would I ever get used to his sweet compliments? "Thank you."

The music changed to a slow one, a soft guitar with horn. Nick stood up and held out his hand. I took it and let him pull me against him. We moved slowly, his warmth seeping into me, spreading heat through my body. I tightened my grip on him, resting my head on his shoulder. His musky scent hovered in the air, making me lightheaded. I could hear his breathing go from steady to ragged. His hands gripped the back of my top, forcing me closer, almost molding me to his body.

When I felt him kiss the top of my head, I looked up at him. His eyes were stormy seas. "I want you, Abby," he whispered.

And honestly, I felt the same way. I hadn't wanted anything as much as I did him at that moment. Something about him stoked the fires within me. I had never felt so alive. My body was like a live wire, ready to spark. All I could do was nod. But it didn't matter; speech was not necessary.

He took my hand, leading me into his room and with one quick move he removed my top. I didn't have time to feel vulnerable or nervous standing in front of him, with only my silk bra. His lips were on my neck, collar bone, my ear lobe, making my skin hum. His hands roamed my back as his lips worked their magic. It had been so long since I'd been touched this way, my insides came alive.

I moaned as the sensations overtook me. I couldn't just stand there, I needed to touch. I pulled back and lifted his shirt off, ran my hands along his skin, his chest hair making my palms tingle. His moan was deep, almost a growl as my hands moved down. He drew back, taking off his pants and then mine. His eyes were smoldering, his expression anxious. He rushed, tossing clothes onto the floor, and then guided me down onto the bed.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, feeling content and happy as he rubbed circles over my shoulder; his soft touch was so soothing that I felt myself drift off to sleep.

Something pulled me awake. I opened my eyes and glanced around. The room was dark and unfamiliar, until the memory of my night with Nick came back to me. I smiled and started to close my eyes again, when I felt movement behind me. I turned around to see that Nick was leaning up on his elbow staring at me. "What are you doing?" I asked. My voice was raspy.

"Watching you sleep."

I blinked a few times. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Because you're beautiful." Was that really a reason?

I was still so sleepy, and not exactly fully awake, I felt my heavy eyelids close. Just as I was drifting off again, I heard him say, "You're mine, Abby."

My sleepy brain couldn't decide if that was sweet or incredibly creepy.

The smell of bacon woke me and I sat up looking around Nick's room. It was relatively neat; the only thing out of place was our clothes that we had thrown on the floor last night. There were a few trophies on a shelf, two books, and one picture of an older couple that must be his parents. His room was a little on the bare side. There was nothing in particular that expressed who he was, unless this was it. I shook off that thought. I knew there was more to him. He had layers. I just had to find them all.

The navy blue curtains were open exposing a dull, gray day. I stared out the window at the dark clouds. It wasn't raining yet, but it would be before long. Our brief relief from the wet weather was obviously over.

I heard movement outside the door and turned to see him walk through it with a tray of food. He was bringing me breakfast in bed. Ahh...how sweet.

"I hope you like bacon and cheese omelets?"

"Doesn't bacon make everything better?" I asked with a grin, I slipping my shirt over my head. I had felt exposed without it.

His eyes narrowed. "A girl after my heart." He sat the tray over my lap and climbed in beside me, leaning over to give me a quick kiss. "Let's dig in, because I have plans for you after." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Laughing, I picked up my fork and did what he said—dug in.

After a few bites, I stretched out against the pillow I had turned up against the headboard. "I'm not sure I believe that you're not a good cook. Everything I've tasted so far is quite tasty."

He grinned. "Breakfast is easy."

I stabbed another bite of the omelet. The orange cheese strung from the plate to the fork. "If you say so." I took the bite and swallowed.

"What are your plans today?" he asked, taking a drink of orange juice.

Was he about to ask me to leave? Tell me he had to work? I was so comfortable I didn't want to go yet. All I wanted to do right now was finish my breakfast and curl up on his comfy bed and relax. "Not much. If I have time I might finish off the first Little Miss book."

"I don't work until three." He tilted his head and winked. "Do you want to stick around here for a while?"

I wanted nothing more, but I didn't want to show my excitement. "Sure, sounds good."

He finished off his omelet in maybe three bites and then placed the empty plate on his nightstand. "You were amazing last night."

I choked on the food in my mouth. "Are you fishing for a compliment?" I asked once I was able to swallow.

"No, I' m telling you how much I enjoyed myself." He bent down to nuzzle my neck. "And I'm ready for more." he whispered.

"I'm not finished with breakfast," I gasped.

His lips moved over my skin softly. "You are now." He grabbed my plate and tossed it onto his. The dishes made a clanging sound and the silverware thumped onto the wood floor.

We spent the morning and early afternoon in bed, exploring each other, sleeping, and talking. It was so amazing; I didn't want it to end.
Chapter Nine

Family

The next couple of months were wonderful. Nick and I spent every day we were free together. I wasn't working on my writing as much as I usually did, but that was okay. I had finished the Little Miss series, and Debbie was in the process of getting them published. The next book could wait awhile. I had never taken time off before, so it was time. Nick took me out at least once a week and on the nights he was off work, we'd spend the evenings curled up on the sofa at my apartment watching a movie or some sports game that was playing.

Two months after we first met, Nick invited me to his parents' for dinner. At first, I rejected the idea. I was nervous and it didn't help that Rob and Heather would be there. For some reason she still acted distant around me. But after a lot of persuasion, Nick finally talked me into it.

His parents lived in an older middle-class neighborhood. The houses were a little faded, but most were a good size. The neighborhood reminded me slightly of my mother's, where I had grown up; only this area seemed to be lacking the abundance of children. Where my old neighborhood held a park in the center that was usually crawling with kids, here I only spotted a few on the front lawns of houses.

Nick pulled into the driveway of a red brick two-story with a white porch in front. We both got out of the car and walked up the steps. Bobby was sprawled out on a swing playing a game on her iPod. "Hey, champ. How were the playoffs?" Nick asked, ruffling the top of her hair with his hand.

"We won," she mumbled, not looking up from her game. Nick glanced at me and laughed. Taking my hand, he pulled me into the house. The smell of garlic and tomatoes assaulted my senses.

To the right was the living room where the sound of a basketball game playing on the TV was mixed with the jumbled voices of men arguing. He pulled me past the door into the kitchen, where an older woman with thick, black curly hair was leaning over a pot, tasting what looked and smelled like tomato sauce. She was wearing a flowered silk blouse and navy-blue skirt. She was a smidge on the pudgy size, but if they ate food that smelled as good as the sauce she was stirring every day, I understood why. "Hey, Mom," Nick called, walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

The corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled and her cheeks were flushed from the steam floating out of the pot. I was suddenly wrapped into a very tight hug; she smelled of baby powder. After a kiss on my cheek she pulled back. "I am so happy to finally meet the girl who has made my boy so happy."

Nick chuckled. "Mom, this is Abby. Abby, this is my mother Sofia."

"It's nice to meet you," I said, taking a step back. "Thank you for inviting me to your home. Dinner smells wonderful. Nick said you were an amazing cook." I was prepared for another bear hug. But it didn't come; instead, she touched my cheek.

"Thank you. I'm so glad you could make it." She turned to Nick, letting me go. "I made manicotti, your favorite."

His face lit up. "With cheesy garlic bread?"

"Of course. Now get out of my kitchen so I can finish. Tina and Paul are late again, but Robert and Heather are in the living room with your father." Just as Nick started for the doorway, Sofia smacked his shoulder. "Get your girl a glass of wine first." She winked at me before turning back to the stove.

Nick sidestepped to the fridge and pulled out a beer for himself and a bottle of white wine for me. Once he poured some into a glass, he handed it to me and then led me into the living room.

"I told you the Lakers would take it tonight!" Rob yelled at a man that must be his father.

Their father's dark brown hair held a touch of gray around the sideburns. His face was wrinkled and his chocolate brown eyes narrowed at his son as he reached into his back pocket and then slapped a twenty into Rob's waiting hand. "This is the thanks I get for putting a roof over your head until you were twenty-two years old," he growled at his son.

Rob took the money with a smile and slid it into the front of his jeans. He glanced up and saw us as we stepped into the room. "Hey, Nick, it's about time you got here. Dad's about to disown me for taking all his money." He stood up, turning to me. "Abby, you look great. Thank God you're still taking pity on my brother. I was getting tired of seeing him so lonely."

Nick punched him in the gut and was about to pull his head into a headlock when their father yelled, "Will you two knock it off. This lovely young lady will think I raised a couple of animals." He stood up and took my hand, pulling it up to his lips to kiss my fingers. "You must be Abby. I'm this loudmouth's father, Carlo." He dropped my hand and gestured to Nick.

"Back off, Dad, she's mine and you're too old," Nick teased, taking a seat onto the plush burgundy sofa and patting the cushion next to him for me to sit down.

Carlo settled back into his Barcalounger facing the large TV. "So Rob how's the Brown case coming? Any leads?"

Rob started to go into detail about a murder case he was working on, leaving out names. Nick and his dad, who was captain at Rob's precinct, tossed around ideas.

I turned to Heather, who was extremely quiet, sitting across from me knitting. "That's pretty. Is it going to be a sweater?" I asked about the small pink knitted garment. Just the bottom was finished.

"Yes, my sister is pregnant. It's a girl." Even though she barely smiled when I saw her, the mention of her sister and future niece brought a light to her eyes.

I leaned over to touch the soft yarn. "It's so soft. My niece had a sweater this color with a matching bonnet. My mother made it."

She nodded and stopped knitting, laying the full needles in her lap. "The bonnet is finished, and I'll be done with this in a couple of days. She's due next week." I could see how much her sister meant to her.

"That's nice. Is this her first baby?"

She smiled. "Yes. She just got married a year ago. She's the baby in the family." Her face darkened as she shot a quick glance to her husband. "But I don't see her that much anymore." She returned to her knitting, looking away from me down at the needles.

I felt a change in her like the flip of a switch and wondered if I'd ever be able to figure her out. "She means a lot to you, I can tell. And I understand, my sister is one of my best friends."

The men's voices got louder as they stopped talking about work and focused on the game again. Heather winced as Rob yelled at the ref, who apparently didn't know a good play from his ass. I tried to start up a conversation with her again, but I could tell her good mood toward me was over. She was back to the quiet, distant girl I had gotten to know the few times we doubled over the last few months.

I stood up, taking a few steps toward the kitchen. Nick grabbed my hand, stopping me mid-step. "Where are you going?"

His question surprised me; where could I possibly go inside a house with his family? "I'm going to see if your mother would like some help in the kitchen." He smiled as I continued out the door.

She was humming to a classical song, playing quietly on the radio. "Would you like some help in here? Basketball doesn't really appeal to me."

She spun around, her round face lighting up as she smiled. "I feel the same way, but I think I have it all under control—unless you'd like to set the table. Everything's out there in the dining room." She layered the garlic bread onto a plate. "Tina should be along in a minute. She called after you arrived, Hannah just woke up from her nap. Have you met Tina yet?"

"No. We were supposed to go out to dinner with them last week, but Nick got a break in the case he was working on and had to cancel."

"Ah...yes, things don't always go as planned when you're with a policeman. But you accept it since its important work."

"Speaking from experience," I guessed, leaning against the doorjamb.

Sofia stopped grating cheese and smiled. "Yes, thirty-five years. If they don't come home for dinner, you worry they won't come back at all. But when they do and they put away the bad guy, or stopped someone from hurting someone else, it makes it all worthwhile." I could see the adoration in her eyes. She was definitely proud of her policemen.

"What does Tina do?"

"She's a nurse over at County. She's on maternity leave right now. Nick didn't tell you?"

My brow furrowed as I wondered why he wouldn't. "No, which is weird since I told him my mother's a nurse there."

Sofia opened the oven door and pulled out the large casserole dish filled with manicotti, mozzarella cheese bubbled on the top. "Is she? I wonder if Tina knows her." She set the dish on the counter and closed the oven door. "Here she is now, we'll ask her."

I turned around at the sound of the front door opening.

"I'm sorry we're late, but Hannah desperately needed to sleep." Tina walked down the hallway towards me. I moved back to let Sofia by to steal the baby in her arms. Tina's hair was lighter than Nick and Rob's; it fell to her shoulders in a playful bob. Her eyes were chocolate brown and she had a small angled nose and chin, with a dark complexion. She looked familiar; I was sure she was one of the nurses who worked with my mother on the maternity ward. She handed Hannah over to her mother as she stared at me. She looked like she was trying to place who I was. "Tina, stop staring at our guest. This is Abby. Nick's girl."

She smiled, revealing a dimple on her right cheek. "I never made the connection when he told me your name was Abby Watson."

Sofia was swaying back and forth with the cute bundle in her arms. "That she was the Abby Watson that writes children's books?" she asked Tina.

She frowned slightly. "Yes, I knew that, but not from my butthead of a brother, but from your mother." She faced me. "She's my boss."

I nodded, her words confirming my suspicion. "I knew you looked familiar when you walked in."

"Your mother is so proud of you. God, it's such a small world." She let out a soft chuckle. She was smiling now, but I thought I saw a worried expression cross her face. It disappeared as quickly as it came. "Wow, I'm so happy to meet you. I've seen you a few times at the hospital, but I was always busy. You have a wonderful mother."

"I think so, but thank you. If you're the Tina she talks about, she's very fond of you as well."

Sofia stepped toward us, the baby stretched out in her arms. "Tina, can you take your baby, supper's ready."

"Oh, I'd better set the table," I called out, rushing into the dining room and beginning to place the plates in front of the chairs. As I sat the third dish down, Tina walked past me, heading for the living room.

I leaned back so I could see what she intended to do. I saw her drop the baby into her husband's lap before grabbing Nick's arm. She led him outside onto the front porch. The door shut behind them and then opened again. Bobby came in, slamming the door behind her, mumbling something about grownups and privacy.
Chapter Ten

Dinner

I finished the table and went back into the kitchen to see if I could help more. "Anything else?" I asked Sofia. "I could bring the food out."

"Yes, honey, that stuff on the counter over there. I'll bring in the manicotti, it's ready."

I took the garlic bread and fresh parmesan cheese and placed it onto the oak table. Sofia came in with the huge dish and sat it down in the center. "Abby, could you tell everyone dinner is ready?" she asked, glancing around, making sure we had everything.

"Sure," I called over my shoulder as I strode down the hall. "Dinner," I said, poking my head into the living room where most of the men were lounging. Paul, Tina's husband, whom I had yet to be introduced to, was holding his sleeping daughter.

I heard a bunch of cheers as I headed to the front door, and the sound of I guessed Paul shushing them.

"It's none of your business who I date, Tina." Nick's voice was muffled, but I could still hear the agitation in it.

"She is my boss's daughter as I'm sure you figured out but neglected to tell me," Tina whispered loudly. It was hard to hear through the door and I wanted to listen longer to see what they were talking about, but I spotted Heather watching me with those haunted, quiet eyes. I smiled at her as I the opened the door, the hinges squawking in protest.

"How was I supposed to know who she was—" Nick stopped mid-sentence when I opened the door.

I gazed first at Tina, who was leaning against the porch railing looking down at the wooden planks. Her feet were bare. She must have been a rush and forgot to slip on her sandals. Then I turned to Nick. "Your mother told me to tell everyone that dinner was ready."

He avoided Tina's and my eyes as he took my hand. "Okay, thanks," Nick mumbled, leading me through the door, but not before he scowled at his sister.

Dinner was amazing. I ate so much I couldn't fit anything else in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn't have gone for seconds. When Sofia brought out her cheesecake she had made from scratch, there were oh's and ah's—I almost groaned. "Here, Abby, you take the first piece," Sofia insisted, handing me a plate.

"Oh, no, thank you. It looks really good, but I'm so full I couldn't eat another bite."

Her cheerful smile fell just a bit. "Come on, you're too thin. Have a piece."

I was about to agree to a sliver, when Nick leaned over and growled in my ear, "Eat the goddamn cake."

I glanced over at his annoyed expression and reached up to take the plate. When I tasted it, it was as delicious as I knew it would be; however, my stomach moaned in agony. I ate the whole thing, even though I knew I'd pay for it later.

We left shortly after I finished helping with the dishes. In his car Nick asked me why I was so quiet. The truth was I didn't know; it could have been that I was sick. My stomach was upset from all the heavy, rich foods his mother made. But mainly, I didn't like the look he gave me when he ordered me to eat the 'goddamn cake'. Instead of telling him how I felt, I just shrugged and gazed out the window.

"Can I stay the night?" he asked when we were a block away from my building.

I still refused to look at him, instead staring down at my dark, dressy jeans. "I'm really not in the mood. I'm not feeling well."

He reached over and placed his hand on my knee "I'll take care of you."

The urge to move my leg was strong, but I was trying to feign indifference, to avoid a fight. I just wanted to be alone and if I showed him my true feelings that wouldn't happen. "No thanks, not tonight. I'll be boring anyway. I think I'm just going to go straight to bed."

He pulled up along the curb in front. "Well, if you're sure." He leaned in for a kiss. His lips touched mine and he opened his mouth to take the kiss deeper.

I pushed him away. "Goodnight," I attempted a cheerful tone, but I wasn't sure I pulled it off. Before he could stop me, I jumped out of the car and headed inside the building.

Upstairs, I lay in bed thinking about the evening. His family was nice and very welcoming. Rob was funny and friendly, so was his father. I liked his mother a lot; she was caring and sweet and just a little strict. She liked things her way, but that was okay. Even though Heather was often guarded, I had caught glimpses of a kind-hearted woman who really loved her children. I liked her; I just wasn't sure how she felt about me. His sister was my favorite; she kept the conversation going during dinner, telling us stories about the hospital. About old men hitting on her, doctors hitting on her and my mother. About how much she admired and respected her. When she said this she glared at Nick. I looked at him to see his reaction, but he only smiled down at me. I was still really curious to know what had happened outside and why they were talking about me. When I asked him after dinner when we were alone in the kitchen, he said it was nothing. And the way he said it meant that the subject was closed.

Then there was the incident with the cake. During the past few months I had noticed that he could be impatient and short-tempered, but he was also sweet and funny and always complimented me. He had a way of making me feel special; the only one he wanted to be around. Actually, tonight was the first night we hadn't spent together in weeks. He must have known I was upset, yet he didn't apologize. I guess that meant he wasn't sorry that he was rude to me and made me feel like a child. Or maybe he really didn't clue in that he had been out of line.

I tossed and turned, churning everything about the evening around in my head. Finally giving up on sleep, I crawled out of bed and into the bathroom to shove an antacid into my mouth. The tablet was chalky, leaving an unpleasant tasted on my tongue. I really shouldn't have had that second helping of manicotti, or the cheesecake. I probably wouldn't sleep all night. I gave up and decided to start on a new book. I had finished the Little Miss series and was going to take a little break, but I couldn't get this new idea out of my head. It was an adventure book, about a boy named Sammy and his dog, Hector, exploring his backyard and finding a new world with talking mice, chipmunks, and raccoons.

I worked until night turned to day. When I couldn't keep my eyelids open any longer, I pressed the save button and fumbled to the bedroom, dropping onto the bed. I fell to sleep instantly.

The sound of the phone ringing woke me. I let it ring, grabbing the covers. I pulled them up to my neck and tried to go back to sleep. The shrill ringing started again. "Damn it," I muttered sleepily. I patted the soft carpet, feeling for the phone and trying to remember where I had left it last night. The ringing stopped. "Oh, thank God." I could go back to sleep.

The ringing began again. "For the love of God," I growled. This time I leaned up, over the bed, looking around for the freaking phone so I could make the horrible noise stop. I spotted it on the floor by my nightstand. I reached over and grabbed it. "What!" I yelled, extremely annoyed that it was nine thirty a.m. and that meant I had only a few hours sleep.

"Well, good morning to you too. You're such a grump in the morning," Debbie complained on the other end of the phone.

"Well, you would be too if you went to bed at four in the morning," I mumbled, my face half buried in the pillow.

"Why the hell did you go to bed so late?" she asked in a way-too-cheerful voice.

"Because my stomach was upset and I couldn't sleep, so I got up and started to write—then I couldn't stop."

"I know, that's why I'm calling. I got your outlines for Sammy's Big Adventure. I'm not sure of the title, but I love the idea. I'm looking at it right now, and Jesus, you sent it to me at three in the morning?" Her voice rose. "Do I need to make sure you get enough sleep along with teaching you how to dress? What the hell would you do without me?"

"Sleep in."

"Ha ha. Anyway, I showed Cheryl, and she loves it. She's so excited, she wants to see the first few chapters as soon as you finish. Don't worry, no deadlines, she knows how you feel about them."

"Couldn't this wait until I was awake?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice what time you sent the email until just now. I'll let you go and get some sleep. Call me when you wake up."

Without saying goodbye, I clicked the end button and tossed the phone on the floor, burying my face into the pillow.

I woke a few hours later—starving. I got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make myself some toast with peanut butter. Flopping on the couch, I munched on my toast, my problems from the night before popping in my head. I was still upset with Nick for the way he had snapped me and I wasn't sure what to do about it. He was supposed to come over tonight after his shift at work around ten o'clock, but now I was thinking I might call to cancel. I just wasn't in the mood for company.

The rest of the day I buried myself in my work. I called Debbie and discussed my plans for the book and then dove back in with some of the things we had discussed, including changing some of the names of the animals she didn't like.

I was deep into a scene when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in, it's open," I yelled absently, expecting Sylvia. She sometimes popped in for a cup of coffee, often carrying a coffee cake or banana bread.

"Hi, am I interrupting you?" The voice was too deep to be Sylvia's.

I looked up to see Nick standing in front of the open door with a brown paper bag in one hand and a large bouquet of pink roses in the other. "What...Nick, what are you doing here?" I glanced up at the clock. "It's only five thirty. I thought you were off at nine."

He shut the door and then made his way over to stand in front of me, his eyes filled with remorse. "I got off early. I was such a jerk to you last night, I wanted to come over and make it up to you. I'm so sorry I snapped at you. Can you forgive me?" he asked, handing me the flowers. I hesitated, remembering how he had made me feel. "Come on, I brought you Chinese food. Chow mein and chicken balls, your favorite." Setting the bag down on the table, and the flowers on the couch beside me, he got down on his knees and leaned his forehead against mine. He smelled of his usual musk. "Please give me a second chance. I'm such a jerk, and I say stupid things without thinking, you'll forgive me, right?" He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, and eventually my lips. "Do you forgive me?" he asked again between kisses.

I nodded my head and let him take the kiss further—I couldn't help it, he was so sweet, kneeling on the floor with the flowers and my favorite food—how could I resist him?

He stood up, took my hand in his and yanked me off the sofa, pulling me into the bedroom. "Do want to eat, or make up?" he asked, standing in the doorway.

"Well, we didn't really have a fight."

He kissed my lips again and rubbed my hand with his thumb. My skin tingled in response. "You were mad. I knew it when you wouldn't talk to me all the way home."

"Fine, I was mad," I said, leaning up onto my tippy-toes so I could wrap my arms around his neck. "So dinner later, make up now."

He grinned, leaned down and threw me over his shoulder. I laughed as he carried me into my room where we made up—twice.

Afterward, I lay snuggled up beside him with my head on his chest. "I love you, Abby," he said in a sigh.

I froze. Tons of emotions came to mind at once. The strongest was surprise and happiness. I lifted my head up to look into his eyes, smiled, then said, "Really?" He nodded his head. "I love you too." My voice was just above a whisper, filled with emotion.
Chapter Eleven

A Good Day

"Hold the elevator," I yelled at Randy, my neighbor from 2B. I juggled the grocery bags that were filled with food I would need to make a nice meal for Nick. We had been dating for four months and I wanted to celebrate. I was in a good mood. I had just gotten an advance from my publisher after they read the first six chapters of Sammy's Adventure. "Thanks, Randy," I said as he held the door for me so I could walk out ahead of him toward my apartment.

"No problem," he called out as he made his way to his door.

Inside, I put the bags on the kitchen counter and went to work. Since spaghetti was the only real meal I was capable of cooking, that was what I was going to make for him. Although I was sure if I really tried, I could cook anything. The problem was, I had no interest. Cooking took up too much time. It was much faster to open a can or a carton.

"You're cooking?" Nick asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen a few minutes later, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Trying not to take offense to his shocked expression, I turned away from the pot of noodles I was stirring and smirked. "And why is that surprising?"

He laid his leather briefcase that he kept his reports in onto the table before making his way toward me. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. "Because in the four months I've known you, I've only seen you make eggs, bacon, toast, and frozen dinners."

I leaned into him, basking in the warmth of his body. "Why cook when you can order in?" When the sauce started to bubble, I pulled out of his arms to turn down the burner. "But tonight I'm celebrating two things. One—I had a good day with my publisher. And two—today is our four-month anniversary. Don't worry, it's no big deal, I just thought I'd cook."

Instantly, guilt flitted over his face. "Honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you planned something special."

"It's no big deal. I told you it's just spaghetti."

"I know, but you're so sweet to think of it. But I asked Brian and Debbie over for dinner, I thought we could order a pizza. There's a good game on tonight." He stepped away from me and opened the fridge.

Disappointment flowed through me, but left quickly. "Debbie didn't mention it." I had just been with her at her office before I went to the grocery store.

He reached in and pulled out a beer. "Brian was going to tell her when he got home. But it's okay. I'll cancel." His face looked sincere. He was willing to change his plans even if he obviously didn't want to.

"No, don't. We haven't spent time with them in a while. It's great, I made enough for four."

He grinned, pulling me in for a quick hug and then letting me go. "Cool, I'll just go in and have a shower. Do I still have those jeans and my blue shirt here or did I take them home?"

As I stirred the sauce, I answered him absently, half listening to the soft music of Pink that was playing in the living room. "They're here. I washed them yesterday. They're hanging in my closet." Placing the spoon on the counter, I turned to him. "You know, you can bring more clothes over if you want, I don't mind. You're here most nights anyway."

He came up behind me and leaned in, kissing the back of my neck, sending tingles along my skin. "Great. I might just take you up on that. I'd better get moving, they should be here soon," he called out, rushing into the bathroom. When the shower turned on, I had to resist the urge to join him. It wouldn't look too good if Debbie and Brian showed up to find us both soaking wet—but satisfied—with no food to eat. I sighed as I stirred the sauce again. The scent of garlic floated out of the oven, alerting me that the bread was done.

I had just finished setting the table when I heard a knock on the door. "Come in, it's open."

Nick came out of the bedroom looking fresh and sexy, his damp hair curling around his collar, smelling of soap and cologne.

Debbie breezed in with something in her hand. From where I stood in the kitchen I couldn't see what it was. "Hi, what's that smell? Don't tell me you cooked." She headed straight for the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. Brian followed her holding a case of beer.

"As a matter of fact, I did," I said. Now that she was closer to me, I saw that she was holding a square cardboard box in her hand. "You didn't?" I pointed to the box.

She grinned. "Oh, yes, I did."

"When did you do it? Nick said they just decided after work, that's not enough time."

"I made it last night and I was going to have it for dessert tonight. When Brian told me their plan, I decided that you needed a fix."

Pure joy filled my entire body, I thought I might float away from it. "Thank you, it's been so long since you cut me off."

Nick, who had been following the conversation with his head bobbing from Debbie to me like he was watching a tennis match, raised his hands. "Wait, what the hell are you two talking about?"

Debbie and I shared a co-conspiratorial laugh, and then she set the box on the counter to open the lid, exposing the most delicious-looking cake ever. "Don't tell me." I lifted my hand to Debbie, who was about to speak. "Three-layered Dutch chocolate cake with mint chocolate icing. Oh God, I'm in heaven."

She laughed, running her fingers along her oversized beaded chain that hung around her neck. She was wearing a burgundy sweater with a swooping neckline. "I know your weakness."

Nick gaped at me, his brows creased in confusion. "Cake? That's what you're going on about? Cake?"

How could I explain how good her cakes were? "It's not just cake. It's ecstasy on a fork."

"It's just cake," Nick replied dryly, stepping out of the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. Brian followed, falling into the chair next to him.

"You won't say that once you've tried one of Debbie Frankford's creations," I explained as I sat on the other side of him. The plate in front of me was already full. I had dished them out when I set the table. Once everyone started to eat, I continued. "When I was Debbie's roommate in college she used to make these amazing cakes at home on weekends, and then bring them back for me to try. She got me hooked and by the end of our first year, I had put on fifteen pounds. She had to cut me off. I haven't had one of her cakes in months."

Nick glanced at Debbie. "You like to bake?"

She sighed heavily. "I love it. It was the hardest decision going into publishing. I had a dream of opening my own bakery, but I loved books just as much. I decided right before college which one I wanted."

"You picked the right career, because if you had gone to culinary school we never would have met." I twirled noodles onto my spoon with my fork.

"Very true and I wouldn't get to read the brilliant novel you brought in today. Seriously, Cheryl was so excited she couldn't wait to show Mr. Grayson."

The music had changed somehow to Bon Jovi, one of Nick's favorites. The song was on low which made conversation doable. Debbie and I discussed our day at the office while Nick and Brian talked about a case they were working on.

"That was really good, sweetie," Nick said, leaning over to touch his lips to mine. He stood up, carrying his plate into the kitchen. "Oh shit. The game's about to start. Brian, hurry up." He shoved his plate in the dishwasher, slamming it shut; there was a crash as all the dishes inside shook from the impact. I glanced at Brian as he started shoveling his food into his mouth.

"Brian!" Debbie scolded with laughter in her voice.

"What? The game's on," he mumbled, standing up and rushing into the kitchen to put his plate away. There was no loud crash after he put his dish inside.

Nick was already sprawled on the couch flicking through the channels.

"Men. What is so exciting about a bunch of guys running around chasing a ball?" I asked, watching them with interest.

"Don't ask me. Come on I'll help you clear the table since we won't get any help from them." She gestured to Nick and Brian, who were already engrossed in the TV.

As we picked up the rest of the dishes, Debbie glanced into the living room and spun around suddenly. "Where's your desk?" she asked, her expression a cross between shock and concern.

I forced a smile. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. I put it in the spare room, to make an office." I busied myself with the silverware instead of looking at her.

I refused to make eye contact as she moved closer to me. "It was too crowded in there, not enough room to relax." I couldn't help the quick glance I shot at Nick.

Debbie didn't miss the look and followed my gaze. She scowled but stayed silent. The truth was, it was our second fight, if you could call the night at his parents a fight, but this definitely was. I didn't want to move my work into the dreary room, but he would not let up. I finally agreed just to shut him up.

After we finished the clean-up, Debbie cut four slices of cake and set them on the plates I handed her. I made some coffee to go with it. We placed it all onto a tray and headed into the living room.

I watched Nick as he absently took a bite of his cake, more focused on the TV than what he was putting in his mouth. I giggled at his expression. Forgetting the game, he took another bite. "Holy crap, this is good. It's the best cake I've ever tasted." His eyes were glazed as he took another bite, and he closed them as he chewed, savoring the taste. "Debbie, you definitely chose the wrong career. You could make a killing selling these." He swallowed the last bite. "Can I have some more?" he mumbled with his mouth full, handing me his empty dish.

I laughed at him as I took his plate to get him another piece. I was just cutting into it, lifting it out of the box, when I heard Brian say, "Wait until you taste her strawberry cream cheesecake." Brian set his empty plate on the table and smiled over at Debbie. "She made it on our fourth date. I think she was trying to buy my love with dessert."

I re-entered the living room, handed Nick his dish and sat down, focusing on my friends.

Nick laughed at Brian. "Did it work?" he asked.

"She's moving in next week."

I dropped my fork, still enjoying my dessert. I learned long ago that if I wanted to keep my waistline, it was best to slowly eat her cakes by savoring each bite, instead of overindulging, which was what I wanted to do. I gaped at Debbie, my eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

She grinned, her hazel eyes shining with happiness. "Yes. He just asked me on the way over."

"That's wonderful. That means you'll live closer to me." I was so excited about having her just a block away; I had the urge to clap my hands. Back in college we were basically joined at the hip, constantly together. Over the years, our jobs and life interfered. We only saw each other for work and occasionally when we made the effort to go out. And we hadn't done that since we met our men.

"Man, are you lucky. You can eat this cake whenever you want," Nick mumbled as he shoved another piece into his mouth, scraping his teeth with the spoon. The rest of us laughed at him. Nick, who was enjoying the cake immensely, didn't even notice.
Chapter Twelve

An Old Friend

The next day, I decided to go for a morning jog before I had a shower. Since it was a warm August day, I ran along the pier. It was crowded with kids fishing, swimming, and skateboarding.

When I made it to the end, I was out of breath and sweating. Thankfully, the breeze coming off the lake was heavenly. I sat down on a bench to rest and cool down. The wooden seat was facing the beach. There was a set of stairs that led to the shoreline if I wanted to get closer to water. On the days when the air was humid, I usually did, just to cool down. Today was a dry heat though and the breeze was good enough to counteract it. Besides, I preferred where I was, sitting above the activity where I could enjoy the view without getting sand in unwanted places.

The sights, sounds, and smells were what attracted me to this place. There was always something going on and for a writer, it was a real smorgasbord of ideas for future books. I watched a couple of gulls fight over a brown paper bag that I assumed was filled with leftover food. Their squawks and shrieks were loud, but at the pier, also expected.

The sound of a human squeal drew my attention away from the fighting birds to a little girl about one and a half years old who was wearing a pink frilly bikini. It looked like she was wearing one of those swimming diapers, which made the frills on her bottom's look puffy. She was running, her tiny legs shaky in the sand as she ran from the waves. She giggled every time the water touched her feet. Her mother picked her up and waded in, swinging her body side to side in the water. I could almost hear her laughter from where I was sitting. I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

"Nice view," a deep voice from behind me said, making me jump.

I was so engrossed by the little girl that I hadn't heard anyone approach. "Yes, it's such a beautiful day," I agreed absently, turning my head, expecting to see a stranger. Instead I looked up into the face of a man about my age, with pale shaggy black hair and bright green eyes. The sun glowed off his hair creating a halo around the top of his head.

"Son of a bitch, what the hell are you doing here?" I screamed in delight, jumping into Jason's arms. He wrapped his arms tightly around me. He still smelled of black licorice, his favorite candy. I had missed him so much. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

I leaned back and slapped him on the chest. His only response was to grin. "Well, you did that. How did you find me?"

"I went to your place and talked to Sylvia. She said that you went for a jog. I guessed where."

I had seen Sylvia in the hall as I was heading to the elevator; she was waiting for her daughter to come and pick her up. They were going to her hometown to visit her grandson. She'd be back next week. "You know me well." I punched him in the arm. "God, it's good to see you. Come on; tell me what you've been up to since you broke my heart." I sat back down on the bench, pulling him down with me.

His face froze as guilt flashed in his eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

I laughed. "Of course I'm kidding. You were more like my brother than my boyfriend, although I can't imagine a brother being as good in bed as you were."

His lips turned upwards into a lopsided grin. "I do remember that was the best part of our relationship. It's been awhile though. What do you say we go on up to your apartment and you can refresh my memory." He squeezed my knee, but I could see the laughter in his eyes. He wouldn't want to ruin the friendship we had now with sex.

"You know, if it wasn't for the fact that I'm in love with another man, I'd take you up on that."

He frowned. "Too bad, maybe next time. How about I take you out to dinner tonight and catch up instead. I have to get back to the office, I was just coming from my hotel and I thought I'd stop in and say hi. I'm only here for the night."

I was so happy to see him; there was no way I'd miss the chance to catch up. "Of course, what time?"

"How's six o'clock? That way we have more time to talk. I'll meet you at Frank's?" he asked as he stood up.

"Perfect. I'll see you tonight." I watched him walk away, realizing how much I had missed him. It might not have worked out between us but he was one of my best friends and I still couldn't believe he moved away to work at some fancy advertising firm in New York.

Too hyped up to write, I decided to use up some of my energy by cleaning the apartment. By mid-afternoon it was spotless, but I wasn't. I still hadn't washed away my run. I lingered in the shower, enjoying the hot spray wash over me. I hadn't taken a whole day off from writing in so long; I decided to enjoy it.

I chose a peasant-style white blouse and jeans to wear. Jason had never been picky about what I wore. He'd be happy if I walked into the diner wearing a dress made out of burlap. Not that Nick was overly picky, he just liked when I made an effort. At five thirty, I wrote a note to Nick telling him where I was and who I was with, adding that I hadn't seen him in a while and he was just here for one day. After locking up, I headed out to meet Jason.

Frank's had been our favorite diner when we were dating. He had the best burgers in town, which was why Jason loved it. I went for the milk shakes.

I found him sitting in the back corner booth—our favorite table. It had the best view of the entire restaurant, where you could sit back, eat, and people watch. I hadn't been here since Jason left, and it was exactly the same, right down to the overpowering smell of onions. "Well, this brings back memories," I said as I sat down on the ripped orange leather across from him.

He laughed. "Remember the first time you brought me here? We were at Josie's Bar and you were so drunk, you only wanted a Frank burger. Nothing else would do. You made me walk twenty blocks to get here." He laughed at the memory, and since it was at my expense, I just smiled and let him finish. "You were so tired, you almost fell asleep on the table before you got the damned burger." He laughed again, harder this time and at the sight of him, my grin widened. "It was the best I've ever tasted."

I joined in his laughter as the waitress approached us. Once we were able to stop the giggles, we both told her what we wanted and then sat back to wait. "So, are you happy with what's his name?" he asked me, leaning forward, his hands pressed flat on the table in front of him.

"It's Nick and yes, I'm happy."

"Good, I'm glad." And I knew that he was. He always wanted my happiness. It was important to him, just as his was to me. It was hard for both of us when the job he was offered ended up being too good to pass up.

Once our burgers and shakes arrived, we filled each other in on the details we had missed. He told me about his new life in New York, the girl he'd been dating, and his tiny Manhattan apartment. I told him about how I met Nick, about Debbie and Brian, and about the books I had written since I had last talked to him.

When we finished with our meal it was after nine. I wanted to go home but he convinced me to have a drink with him at Morey's, a bar we used to go to. While we were there, he ran into some old friends and we talked for hours. By the time I got home it was after midnight. I'd only had a few glasses of wine, so I was only tired when I opened the door to my apartment. Although it had been a long day, it had also been an exciting one. I couldn't help the smile on my face as I opened the door. It widened when I saw who was waiting for me.

"Did you fuck him?" Nick snarled from the chair in the corner of the room. He sat in the dark, with the TV off, facing the door, like I was some perp he was waiting to arrest.

The smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"

"Your ex-boyfriend. Did you fuck him? Because when I saw you, you looked pretty damn cozy."

I closed the door behind me, tossed my purse on the end table and flicked on the light. "What does that mean? You saw us?"

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. How long had he been sitting here in the dark? "You said you were going to Frank's with him. I went to see for myself." Hurt flashed over his features before the expression was swallowed by anger. "I couldn't believe you would betray me like that."

Just a moment ago, I had been in a great mood, happy from a visit with an old friend, and now I was reeling from his ridiculously, hateful accusations. I couldn't catch up. When I looked at his face I saw rage, so strong it scared me.

"I didn't betray you. You should have come in. I wanted you to meet him anyway. If I was sneaking around, would I have left a note telling you where, and who I was with?" I shook my head. "Jesus, Nick, how could you think I would cheat on you? I told you I loved you and I meant it. I also told you Jason was my friend."

"One you used to sleep with."

"So? He is more my friend then he ever was a lover. I told you before that we ended after only a few months, but stayed friends much longer. He was here for the day on business and he wanted to catch up. Do I have a fit when you hang out with your friends?"

His eyes narrowed, his lips turned up into a icy grin. "If you only had dinner, where have you been? It's after midnight. Did you go back to his hotel and reminisce?" His voice was so cruel that he made the word sound dirty.

I was really tired of saying the same thing without him hearing me. It was like talking to a wall. "I told you I didn't cheat on you." I sighed in exasperation, pacing in front of him. "If you must know, I had a couple of drinks with him and we ran into a few of his old friends. I left him there because I wanted to come home to see you. I didn't realize what time it was. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like you to leave. I don't really enjoy being accused of lying and cheating in one night."

He stood up, fury still clouding his face. "You shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place." He jabbed his finger into my shoulder. My skin stung when he pulled away. "You used to fuck him! And you thought I wouldn't mind you spending a night with him while I sat here twiddling my thumbs? I don't fucking think so!" A vein pulsed in the side of his neck as he clenched both fists at his side.

"You know what? I'm done defending myself. Get out." I was surprised at how calm my voice was. I was so furious, I wanted to scream.

He stared at me coldly, then brushed past me roughly, knocking me back a step. He opened the door and slammed it behind him so hard that the frame shook from the impact.

I locked the door and put the chain up before he changed his mind and tried to come back. Once I was safely alone, I raced to my room and cried into my pillow until I fell asleep.
Chapter Thirteen

Peace Offering

I didn't hear from Nick for the next few days. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, only that I missed his face, his voice, and yes, his body. But I was still upset with him. How could he accuse me of such a thing? Even when he realized I didn't cheat on him, instead of apologizing, he said I was still wrong for going out with an old boyfriend. He didn't call to apologize or even discuss the issue for three days? The more I thought about it, the more livid I became. I was trying to work on the seventh chapter of my book and failing miserably. I had never been able to write when I was unhappy. I finally gave up and started to clean. When that didn't take my mind off of my troubles, I parked in front of the TV watching old sappy movies and eating rocky road ice cream right out of the carton.

That's how Brenda found me. When I didn't answer her knock at the door she let herself in with her key. She stood in the doorway, concern swimming in her light brown eyes. "Debbie called. She said you haven't heard from him in three days."

"Nope, and I don't care. He accused me of cheating on him and when he realized I didn't, did he apologize?" My mouth was half full of ice cream, therefore obscuring my speech as I waved my spoon in the air.

"Um...well, from your tone of voice, I'm going to guess...no."

"No, he didn't. Then he said I shouldn't have had dinner with Jason at all because I used to date him. Only that's not the words he used. Even though I told him where I was and who I was with in my note. Did he care? No. So guess what? I don't care." I scooped another spoonful up and shoved it in my mouth. The spoon scraped my teeth, making a sound that used to irritate Brenda when we were kids. She winced but chose to hold her tongue. I felt like making the sound again, just to annoy her. I wasn't happy, why should anyone else be?

She moved forward slowly, until she hovered in front of me, her hands in the air. "Okay, sweetie, maybe you should put the ice cream down, and we'll talk about this." Her voice was soft, like she was talking a person down from a ledge.

I gaped up at her, wondering why she was speaking to me like I was a crazy person. "Why? I'm fine."

Her arm shot out, grabbing hold of the ice cream container, she yanked on it. Since I wasn't expecting her quick movement I was caught off guard. The carton almost slipped from my fingers. I gripped the lip just as it was about to be ripped out of my hands. I probably didn't need any more ice cream, I was holding on more out of spite than actual want, my stomach was beginning to get a little query. But I wasn't a child she could boss around. I pulled back and added a cool glare. She blinked at me and matched me glare for glare, yanking harder, finally pulling it out of my grip. Then she smiled and disappeared into the kitchen with it. I heard the freezer door open and then quickly close. My fingers were sticky from the container, and I had the urge to lick them clean. Of course if I did, it would prove her right—I was acting like a child. Instead, I wiped them on the navy-blue boxers I was wearing.

She came back in wearing a satisfied grin and took a seat in an armchair. She crossed her legs and spread her arms out on the soft chair. Her honey-colored hair was down, falling against the back of the plush chair. She was wearing a soft blue summer dress. "I think we have to do something to get your mind off things, so you don't dwell on your fight. Have you seen Mom lately?"

I leaned back on the couch, covering myself with a velvet throw blanket, more for comfort than warmth. "Yes, Nick and I were at her place for dinner last week."

She frowned, creating a wrinkle in between her eyes. "Okay, so much for getting him off your mind." Her foot bounced up and down on her knee as she tried to think of something else to talk about. Before she could, there was a knock at the door, startling both of us. She turned to me, brow raised, waiting for me to answer it.

When I made no move to do so, she shook her head, stood up and walked over to look through the peep hole. She spun around, her hair fanning out behind her. "It's him," she hissed.

"Nick?" I whispered back and she nodded.

"Who is it?" I yelled cheerfully as if I didn't have a care in the world.

"Abby, it's Nick, can I come in?"

I jumped up, looked at myself in the mirror and winced. My hair was half in, half out of the ponytail I had put up this morning, with strands sticking out all over. It looked like I had dragged my head along a carpet like a dog dragging its butt. Quickly I took it out and combed through the hair with my fingers. "No," I shouted as I glanced down at my ice-cream-stained white tank top.

Panicked at the thought of him seeing me like this, I rushed to my room and whipped the tank off, yanking on a cute slim-fitting black top. A pair of faded jeans lay sprawled on the floor. I grabbed them and yanked them on, covering the boxers.

"I know I don't deserve a second chance, but please let me in," Nick was saying from the other side of the door when I reappeared. Brenda was standing against it listening. I approached her and gestured for her to sit down.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly after throwing the door open. His short hair was brushed perfectly. He wore a burgundy button down shirt and dark jeans. He looked good, and that just pissed me off. A quick glance at Brenda had him flushing with embarrassment—good. "Um...I was wondering if I could talk to you alone, if that's okay."

I squared my shoulders, preparing to make him beg. "I'm going to have to say no. When I tried to explain things to you, you wouldn't listen and you didn't trust me. So no, I don't want to hear what you have to say." I started to push the door shut, but he stopped it with his hand, making a smacking sound against the wood.

Brenda stood up, her face a mix of weariness and curiosity. "Maybe I should go."

I whirled on her. "No, you stay, he's leaving." I jerked my thumb in his direction.

Nick touched my arm. When I looked at him about to yank his hand away, I saw how miserable he looked. "Please," he said softly. His eyes were tortured and pathetic. My resolve crumbled in a pile at my feet.

I sighed, giving up. "Okay. Brenda, I'll call you later. Nick, you can come in."

I closed the door behind Brenda and stood leaning against it with my arms folded in front of me, feeling anxious, angry, and unsure. "I'm waiting. You've got five minutes."

"Do you want to sit?" he asked, sounding nervous.

"No, I'm fine here."

He glanced around, not sure if he should sit or stand. With a shrug he stood in front of me and cleared his throat. "I didn't understand what Jason was to you. I have never been friends with an ex-girlfriend so I had no idea it could be done, that's stupid of me, I know." He ran a hand roughly over his short hair "I thought that you must be sleeping with him since I believed nobody stayed friends after they dated. I'm sorry I put that on you. But Debbie told Brian what your friendship with Jason meant to you. I'm so sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions." He paused to gaze at me with sad eyes, started to reach his hand out to touch me...hesitated and then dropped it. He was unsure of my reaction and almost looked vulnerable. It made my anger fade. "Can you forgive me? I've missed you so much. I've been crazy without you and it's only been three days. Please put me out of my misery, take pity on me." With that, he took a box out of the pocket of his jeans and opened it. Two shiny diamond earrings sat in pale blue velvet.

Without thinking, I leaned over them. "They're beautiful," I said dreamily. Then I remembered I was mad at him and stepped back. "You hurt me." My tone wasn't as sharp as I had intended.

"I know and I'm sorry." It helped that he looked miserable. It made my lips twitch.

"Is that a smile?"

"Maybe."

He smiled and took the earrings out of the box. "Here, why don't you try them on?"

Oh well, trying them on couldn't hurt, I thought. Once I did, and looked in the mirror, I couldn't remember what I was mad about.
Chapter Fourteen

Celebration

Over the next couple of months Nick was attentive, sweet, and romantic. He told me that the three days without me had scared him and he would never do anything to hurt me again. So far, he had kept his promise. On our-six month anniversary, he took me back to Marco's, where we went for our first date. The restaurant was packed, as it usually was on Saturday nights, so I was surprised that we were escorted to the same table we sat at on our first date as soon as we arrived. "You must have called ahead," I guessed, gesturing to the line of people waiting to get a table.

His smile was cocky as he sat down across from me. "It helps to know the owner. Besides it's a special occasion. I wanted to treat you to a nice dinner and I had a little help." He gestured to Marco, who was making his way over, dressed in a slick gray suit, holding a single red rose.

"Good evening, Abby. You look gorgeous. That color is great on you."

Instead of answering, I blushed, glancing down at the dress I bought yesterday after Nick told me of his plans. The dress was raw silk and the color of rust. It fell off my shoulders and hugged my body nicely. My hair was down and curled. I felt fabulous.

Marco slid the rose into the clear crystal empty vase that sat in the center of the table. "Compliments of your date," he announced with a nod toward Nick.

"Thank you," I said softly, glancing at both of them, feeling suddenly shy for no reason that I could explain.

Marco grinned at me. "Well, enjoy your meal. Let me know if there's anything you need." He walked away, leaning down to a couple at a table to the left of us. He said something to the woman, who laughed as he walked away. He was good at his job and you could see he loved it.

"Thank you for the rose," I said, glancing back at my date.

Nick shrugged as he reached out to pick up a menu, handed it to me and then grabbed another one for himself. "I just called Marco and asked him to put a rose on the table, that's all." He opened the menu and started to read. "So, what do you think you'll order?" Nick asked just as the waiter brought over a bottle of champagne.

I raised an eyebrow at Nick; he just smiled in answer. After the waiter poured each of us a glass, he left discreetly. "Champagne? Hoping to get lucky tonight?" Taking a sip, I savored the bubbles as they bounced on my tongue.

"I'm hoping," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

I laughed as the waiter returned to take our order. Once again, Nick ordered for me, like he had done since we met, but that was him. He was used to taking charge at work and at home.

"So how was work today? Catch any bad guys?"

He swallowed his sip and set his glass down with a nod. "I did in fact. Brian and I got a lead this morning, which led to a chop shop and we found about twenty stolen cars. So yes, we arrested the bad guys. It was a good day." He beamed at me, his face showing his good mood. I loved it when he was happy, it made me happy.

Pleased that he was sharing, I held up my glass. "To putting away the bad guys." Our glasses chimed as they touched.

"What did you do with your day?" he asked, the smile fading.

I leaned my elbow on the table, resting my head on it. "The usual. I finished a chapter and cleaned the apartment, went for a run."

He was staring at the rose, not really listening to my answer. "That's good. Does that rose smell funny to you?" he asked scrunching up his face.

Puzzled by his sudden change in conversation, I took the rose between my fingers and pushed it to my nose. "No, It smells fine to—" I froze when I noticed something sparkle inside the bud. "What's this?" I asked, pulling out something hard. I gasped when I saw what was now in the palm of my hand. It was a ring and it sparkled in the candle's glow.

"I saw this ring and it looked so much like your locket, I knew it was meant for you. I know this won't be the most important piece of jewelry you own, but I hope you will treasure it as much as your locket." He stood up and got down on one knee. I was frozen in my seat; I couldn't move. The ring still sat in my hand. He took it and held it out. "I love you, Abby. More than I knew was possible. Will you marry me?" I was only slightly aware of the whispers and gasps of the people around us. I was focused on the man in front of me.

Dazed by the ring and the romance of the moment, there could only be one answer. "Yes," I whispered, my voice raw with emotion. He smiled, took my hand and slid the ring on my finger; it was a perfect fit. I gazed down at my hand, admiring the ring. The band was white gold with a lace design, weaving its way up to a cluster of diamonds. He was right; it seemed to match my locket. Tears fell down my cheeks as I absorbed what was happening.

He framed my face with his hands and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on, taking the kiss deeper. It was an amazing moment and I wanted to show him how much I loved him. Just as his hands moved slowly down my back, creating a shimmer of warmth spreading through my body, an explosion of applause erupted around us and I remembered we weren't alone.

We pulled apart with embarrassed smirks on both of our faces. Marco rushed over and gave me a hug. "Congratulations," he whispered into my ear. When he pulled away he shook Nick's hand. "You did good, buddy. You're lucky you found her first."

The night was so magical, I couldn't stop smiling.

Back at my apartment we celebrated in my bedroom. Afterward, lying in his arms, I mumbled, "I don't want you to go home."

He laughed, a deep throaty sound that rumbled in his chest. "I won't, I'm not going anywhere."

I leaned up and looked at him; his dark eyes were satisfied and dreamy. "What do you mean?"

His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. "Let me move in." He pulled me in for a hug. "We'll get my stuff tomorrow. Or is that too soon?"

I laughed, surprised that his bossiness always seemed so endearing to me. "Of course not, we can go now if you want."

He nodded. "No, tomorrow's fine. Then maybe we can stop by my parents and tell them our news."

"Sure." I snuggled into his chest as he wrapped his strong arm around me. I felt warm and content.
Chapter Fifteen

Stranger

The next morning while Nick was at his apartment packing, I called my mother to share my exciting news. "Are you sure about this, honey?" That was the only response.

I paused, taken aback by her question. "Why are you asking me that?"

"There's just something about him that bothers me. I can't really put my finger on it, but when he watches you, it seems a bit possessive."

"Doesn't that mean he loves me?"

She paused. "I think it's more than that. I just can't explain why."

I didn't know what to say. Her words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over me. I had been so excited and now she was ruining my mood. Frankly, I was a little annoyed. "Mom, you're just being overprotective. You bug me constantly to find someone and now you're giving me grief when I do exactly what you wanted. Why can't you let me be happy?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, honey. I just have a strange feeling about him, but I'm happy if you're happy." Before I could question her further, she began a story about Justin joining a soccer team. She ended the call when there was a knock at her door. She hung up in a rush, without really saying goodbye. I sat for a few seconds with the phone still in my hand, my mouth agape. I was shocked at what had just occurred.

The next call I made went a little differently. I had to pull the phone away from my ear while Brenda screamed with delight. When she calmed down, I asked her, "Do you like Nick, Brenda?"

There was a short pause on the other end. "Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

I opened my mouth to tell her what Mom had said and then changed my mind. This was a happy day and dwelling on my mother's reaction would just ruin that. "No reason. Never mind."

The rest of the conversation involved planning the wedding: the when, the who, the where, all of which I didn't know, since he had just asked me.

"Hold on, Brenda," I laughed into the phone when her voice started to hit a high decibel. "It just happened, I don't know anything yet. But you'll be the first to know when I do." I hung up and made a similar call to Debbie. My ears were still ringing when Nick called to tell me to come and pick up some of his stuff. It wouldn't all fit in his car.

By the end of the day my living room floor was covered in boxes and my closets were full. Since there wasn't room for his furniture, he was putting the rest of his belongings in storage. I was thankful for that, since I could barely move. Everything would work out though; boxes could be unpacked and if we were really short on space, we could use my office. I was just happy he was here.

"My mom asked us to stop over tonight." Nick was folding his sweats and stuffing them in an old wooden dresser that was marked with both pen and the occasional scrapes in the finish. It was old and had obviously been his as a child. It smelled of dirty gym socks. Not that I was going to say that out loud. He didn't seem to notice and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. It was the only piece of furniture that would fit in my room. "I told her we had some news, so she said to drop in for dessert and a drink." He paused as he closed the now full drawer. "What did your mom say?" A small smile appeared on his face. He was happy with our news and was excited to share it with his family. I couldn't wipe the look off his face with my mother's reaction.

Placing the hanger, holding one of his dress shirts in the closet, I peeked my head out. "Um...she said she was happy for us, of course."

He stepped up, wrapping his arms around my waist. His hot breath tickled my neck. "Good. I want everyone to be as happy as I am." His voice was deep against my ear. "We should hurry though, it's almost six. Do you want to go through a drive-thru on the way over?"

I closed the closet door, feeling a sudden craving for tacos. "Sure."

We changed our clothes quickly and headed out. For some reason I was worried about his parents' reaction. Would they act as my mother had? Or my sister and friend? Although I was hoping for the latter, I couldn't get my mother's response out of my head.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you both," his mother gushed, clasping her hands to her face then clapping them together. "I knew that's what you were going to tell us when you called."

The whole family was there. Sofia must have been busy, making calls after she talked to Nick.

They were all happy for us—well, except Heather, who sat in the corner of the room. While everyone hugged us and patted Nick's back, she just sat there looking down, picking off imaginary lint from her navy blue pants. When everyone else started to pour drinks for a toast, she lifted her head and gazed at me. Her face was full of sadness. When I started to walk toward her, she stood up and headed into the kitchen. I watched her go, wondering if I'd ever be able to win her over.

Nick's phone rang, bringing me back to the celebration. "Excuse me, guys, I'll take this outside."

While he was gone, Tina pulled me onto the sofa next to her. "Are you sure about this?"

I didn't understand the question. Wasn't she happy for us? "Yes, I am. I love him."

She tucked her light brown hair behind her ear and leaned forward until she was so close I could smell her perfume. "If you ever need anything, you call me. Okay?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. Did she mean she wanted to help with the wedding plans? She patted my leg as she stood up and wandered over to her mother, who was holding a sleeping Hannah.

Nick slipped back into the house. His face seemed cold, his jaw locked.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, touching his hand as he sat back down beside me where Tina had been.

He pulled his hand away. "Nothing." His voice was as cold as his expression. My heart sank. I hadn't heard him speak to me this way since Jason's visit.

"Abby, would you like to wear my wedding dress? It's upstairs in the attic. It would be perfect for you," Sofia asked from where she sat across from me.

The ache in my chest deepened as a memory popped into my mind. I was eight and used to love exploring the attic. One day I found a large cedar chest. The wood gleamed, almost beckoning me to open it. When I did, I gasped at the layers of white chiffon. It was the most beautiful garment I had ever seen. In my childish mind I imagined it was the dress for an angel or a princess. I pulled it out and managed to get all the layers over my head. Of course it was too big, but as I stared into the gilded mirror that leaned up against an old dresser, I couldn't help but imagine myself wearing it when I was old enough to marry.

When my parents, who had been looking for me, found me wearing it, I thought I was in trouble, but my mother only smiled. My father picked me up and told me I looked like a princess. At the time, that was a true compliment. Ever since that day, I had dreamed of wearing my mother's dress on my wedding day.

"Abby, are you okay?" Sofia asked, bringing me back to the present.

I shook away the memory and replied, "That is such a sweet offer, Sophia, but I can't. I'm sorry."

She waved her hand in dismissal. "You're right. I'm sure you want a more modern style. What was I thinking?" She smiled. "Have you set a date?"

I glanced at Nick for help; his face was even colder than before. I stared at him, waiting for an answer but he wouldn't look at me. The ache in my chest deepened. "We haven't discussed it yet," I finally answered.

When Sofia went into the kitchen to bring out dessert, I followed her in. "I'm so sorry about the dress, Sofia. I'm sure that it's beautiful, but ever since I was little, I wanted to wear my mother's. Since my dad can't be there, I thought that wearing the same dress my mother wore when they got married would make me feel closer to him."

She set the bottle of wine she was holding next to the apple crisp on the counter, and touched her hand to her heart. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry he can't be there for you. You wear whatever you want. It's your day." She wrapped me in her arms for a comforting hug. She smelled of cinnamon from the dessert.

On the way home Nick was silent, his expression hard as stone. Every time I asked him what was wrong he would respond curtly, "Nothing."

The elevator ride was extremely long, the silence in the small compartment, deafening. When the ping rang out at our floor, I sighed with relief.

I followed him into the apartment, stepping over to lay my jacket on the chair. I took a deep breath, preparing to speak, hoping I could make him smile. I hated when he was in a bad mood. "Look, I know you're upset," I began, turning around. He was standing with his back to me, facing the TV. "I'm sorry I told her no, but—" My words fell away as he spun around so quickly I didn't see his hand fly out. I felt it, though, as it smacked across my face. A sharp searing pain spread before I realized what had happened. I lifted my hand up to touch my cheek that was now burning. "Did you just hit me?" I whispered, completely stunned.

The expression on his face could only be described as enraged. I had never seen him this angry before. I thought I saw glimpses, but nothing compared to this. "You're damned right I did. You deserve it after the way you laughed in my mother's face. She was trying to do something nice for you and you basically spat at her." His words were spoken with venom. His tone of voice stung as much as the slap itself.

I knew the emotions that should have passed through me—sadness, fear, pain, considering this man was supposed to love and support me. But they were not what I felt as I stared at him, holding my now stinging hot cheek. I was...pissed, incensed, infuriated, furious, irate. And all other angry words in the dictionary—they all passed through my mind. How dare he, or anyone, put their hands on me. "I did not. I wasn't rude, I told her I couldn't and that I was sorry. Then I explained to her in private why I couldn't wear her dress. She understood and gave me a hug. You might have noticed if you hadn't been in such a bad mood."

Some of the anger left his face. "What was the reason?" he asked, his voice softening as well. The fact that his mood could change that instantly, after he had just struck me, only added to my anger. It didn't seem to bother him that he had just slapped me. I saw no guilt on his face.

"Go to hell," I yelled, running into my room and locking it behind me. Even though the pain in my cheek was subsiding, a burning started in my chest with the threat of tears. My breathing turned to wheezing as I fought the feeling. I paced my bedroom, feeling trapped in my own home.

He pounded on the door. "Abby, come on. I'm sorry, okay." He actually sounded sorry. Even though his voice was muffled through the door, it held a touch of remorse, but it had no effect on me. I was too angry to fall for that.

"Get out of my house. I will not be with a man that hits a woman. I was not brought up that way. Get out," I screamed. My body was vibrating with furry; my throat ached from the strain.

"Since you put my ring on your finger, you're mine and I love you. I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't know that you explained to my mother. But I'm not leaving. We belong together."

Backing up a few steps, I asked, "So if I didn't explain to her, you wouldn't be sorry you hit me?"

There was silence for a few seconds before he spoke. "I didn't say that."

"But that's what you meant."

"Come out and we'll talk about it. Please." I heard his hand brush the door.

I sat on the bed, prepared to stay there all night. I had never been hit by a man and I wasn't going to let it happen again. Even as a child, I was never spanked. My parents never believed that raising a hand to others was the way to discipline. And having my mom and dad as role models could not prepare me for this situation. My father was the most caring man, and would never raise his hand to my mother, or any woman for that matter.

"Open the door, Abby," Nick growled, obviously losing his patience.

I ignored him, lying back on the bed, trying to focus on the cracks in the stucco, hoping to tune out the man in the hall. My silence made him angrier. He slammed his fist on the door, making the wood rattle. But I was too afraid to open it.

The banging lasted for about an hour. During that time I emptied his dresser and packed his suitcases. After that, I sorted my own dresser and closet, cleaned under the bed, and when I ran out of things to do, I realized that I really had to pee—so bad that I was afraid to move.

Walking carefully toward the door, I leaned my ear against it, listening for the TV. It was off, and I could hear him snoring. I opened the door slowly, worrying it might creak. Thankfully, the only sound was my own breathing as I tiptoed towards the bathroom.

Just as I was about to push open the door, Nick rushed toward me, shoving me up against the wall. My head cracked against the drywall, giving me an instant headache. His rage-filled eyes seared mine as he hovered inches from my face. "Don't ever lock me out again. You belong to me and you will do as I say. You got that?" He was holding my wrists against the wall like a vise grip. Even though he slapped me earlier, I was still shocked at his behavior. How could I not have seen that he was capable of this violence? It made me angry at myself for not noticing the signs—and there were signs. But how could I know that this would happen? He was so normal looking and appeared to be sweet and caring. I should have realized that appearances can be deceiving. Of course, I would know a monster when I saw one, but my mistake was not realizing that monsters come in all shapes and sizes.

I couldn't move, so I brought my knee up sharply, hitting him right in the crotch. When he doubled over, I took off running to the bathroom. He caught my arm, dragging me out. I clutched at the doorjamb, trying to slip out of his hold. He yanked me harder and I lost my grip, my fingernails scraping into the wood.

My stomach was in knots as he shoved me into the bedroom. "I love it when you put up a fight," he whispered into my ear. His voice was raspy, out of breath, but I could hear the excitement in his tone.

"Please, you're scaring me. Why are you doing this?" I wanted to struggle more, but his fingers were digging into my arms. They felt like needles piercing my skin.

"Next time I tell you to open the goddamn door; you'll do it, won't you?" As he walked me to the bed, he noticed the suitcases. "What's this? Am I going somewhere?" His voice was cruel and taunting.

Fear sliced through me, not replacing the anger; it was still there, but buried under the panic that was now smothering me. "Nick, please calm down so we can talk."

He smirked, shoving me down onto the bed. "Oh, I'll talk, all right. You think you can get rid of me after you accepted my ring." He laid his body onto mine. "I love you, baby. Let me show you." Holding my wrists, he bent down and crushed his lips to mine, shoving his tongue into my mouth. I bit it and turned my face away, expecting to be hit again. Instead, he laughed. He shoved my pants down and then his. Pushing him away didn't work, so I screamed, the fear now slicing though my chest. He didn't seem to hear me; his eyes were glazed with a mixture of excitement and anger. I sobbed as he slid inside me.

Tears ran down my cheeks as he lay sleeping, spent from emptying into me. The love I had for him was replaced by fear and hate.
Chapter Sixteen

Help!

The next morning, I feigned sleep while he dressed for work. I heard the zipper of his jeans, the ruffling of material as he yanked on a shirt. I fought a shudder as the image of him removing both of our clothing last night pushed its way into my mind. The smell of my laundry soap hovered in the air, making me nauseous. It was same scent from the sheets that lay under me while he took away my trust and love. One night had wiped away six months of what I thought had been friendship and romance. I now knew it had all been a lie. I held my breath, waiting for him to leave.

He didn't.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside me and laid his hand gently on my leg. The touch was meant for comfort; coming from him it felt repulsive. "I know you're not sleeping, sweetie. I'm sorry I got a little rough last night, but I had some bad news. I was angry and in a pissy mood. You shouldn't have run from me."

I sat up in bed, gaping at him. "What bad news?"

He pulled his hand back, resting it on his jean-clad knee. "The call I got last night was about the case I'm working on. It turns out that the suspect was released and the district attorney says we don't have enough to hold him. We've been working on this case for months. I was upset."

I blinked at him. A buzzing sound started in my head, I was so mad. "Let me see if I understand. Because you were angry about your job, you hit me and then raped me." I tilted my head at him, trying to keep my voice even. "Did I get it right?"

His eyes flashed as he leaned forward. I drew back, away from him. Fear sparked, beginning to slither its way through my body like a virus as the look in his eyes reminded me of last night just before he slammed my head against the wall. My resolve started to crumble. "Oh, come on. How can I rape my fiancée? It's like a wife. You're obligated to give it to me when I want it. And I wanted it last night."

I stared at him in sheer disbelief, my eyes so wide I thought they'd pop out of my head. "Who are you?" I whispered, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise. How did I miss this side of him? This was not the man I fell in love with. I couldn't be with him.

Hopefully I could calmly explain my thoughts without causing a scene. The Nick I knew had some sense in him. I couldn't believe that it had been all fake. "I'm sorry, but you're not the person I thought you were. I can't marry you." To make my point, I pulled off the ring and held my hand out. The ring lay in the center of my palm.

His eyes narrowed. "Honey, I don't have time to argue. I'll see you when I get home." Was it his tone or his words that made me feel like a disobedient child? Did he not hear a word I said?

"No, you won't. I want you gone." Despite my strong words, my voice shook with fright.

He stood up and shrugged. "You said you would marry me. That's a commitment that I'm going to hold you to, no matter what it takes. I'm not going to let you ruin what we have." He took the ring that I was still holding and grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard I spread my fingers apart. He shoved the ring on roughly, the band digging into my knuckle. "And remember, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't run from me. How was I supposed to act? I love you. All I wanted to do was show you." Then bending down, he kissed my forehead as if none of last night ever happened.

If he believed that I was just going to live with a man who thought he could beat me when he was in a bad mood, he had some serious waking up to do. My parents, especially my father, taught me to stand up for myself and to never let anybody hurt me. I only hoped my father wasn't watching me right now. It would kill him all over again to see his daughter suffer the way I had last night.

Once I was safely alone, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and studied my face. My right cheek was red but was starting to fade. My wrists, where he held me down, were gray with a slight shade of purple. My upper arms were marked with tiny bruises where he held me in the bedroom. These were black, the shape of his fingers. I also had a throbbing headache from when he slammed it against the wall. I took pictures of my arms and wrists and then got dressed. After I was ready, I grabbed my purse, pulled on my sunglasses to hide the redness and left my apartment to make sure this never happened again. My father would turn over in his grave if I didn't fight back.

"I'd like to speak to Captain Hennessey, please." My voice lacked the conviction I had hoped to convey while I stood in front of the front desk at the police station closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, it just happened to be where Nick worked, thankfully, when I looked around I didn't see him. The only other station was on the other side of town, and who was the captain there? Nick's father. Even though Nick worked here, the captain wasn't related to him, and the few times we had met, he seemed like a good, fair man. And right now, he was my only hope.

The room was a buzz of activity, filled with police and civilians like myself. The phones rang constantly, voices echoing throughout the room. It was loud and chaotic. The officer hung up the phone after alerting the captain of my visit, then told me to go on in. He pointed to an office at the end of a long hallway. I began making my way in the direction he instructed, feeling like I was about to vomit; my stomach was in knots.

I kept my head down, hoping no one would notice me. I didn't know many of Nick's co-workers, but I had met a few. As I gazed down at the floor, I counted sixty-eight tiles before I reached the captain's office. I knocked softly and then opened the door when I heard his voice.

"Abby, how are you?" the captain asked from behind a large, messy wooden desk. He was a kind man that I had met a few times. He was balding, his cheeks were always rosy and his big belly reminded me of Santa Claus. He sat back in his swivel chair, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hi, Captain," I addressed him nervously, avoiding his question. The air in here smelled of Old Spice and coffee. In attempt to prolong my complaints, I glanced around the room. The walls were covered with pictures of the captain with different people. My stomach dropped when I saw one of him and Nick's father with their arms around each other, both of their faces wearing wide grins.

"It's Phil, remember?"

I spun around to face him, feeling guilty for some reason. "Right...Phil." I took a seat across from him in the cushioned chair, fiddling with my purse, suddenly very nervous.

He watched me fidget in my seat, studying my every move as if he was searching for clues to explain my sudden appearance. "What can I do for you, Abby?"

I pulled my sunglasses off and by his blank expression, the redness had faded. But I wasn't finished. I unzipped my hoodie and pulled it off. I was wearing a tank top underneath so my bruises were clearly visible.

His eyes furrowed with concern. As he sat his coffee down on the desk, the liquid sloshed inside the mug. He leaned forward. "What happened?"

Before I could say a word, a tear fell down my cheek. I swiped at it, hoping to hide it. I did not want to cry. "Nick," I finally managed to say.

His jaw tightened as he sat back in his chair. He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk. Taking a breath, he simply said, "Tell me."

So I did. I told him everything, and unfortunately, I wasn't able to hold the tears in. I whispered the part when Nick forced himself on me. When I finished I glanced at him, waiting for him to react. He didn't, he just sat there. The only movement I could see was a vein on the side of his neck throb.

When he finally did move it was to stand up. "Stay here, I'll have someone bring you in a beverage. I won't be long."

And then he was gone and I was left alone in the quiet office.

I sat there for about half an hour twiddling my thumbs. The only noise in the office was his old-fashioned wall clock that looked like it had been on display for about fifty years. An officer would walk by occasionally and when they saw me, their eyes would widen with interest, but no one dared to enter the captain's office without his permission.

I was about to nod off in my chair—my eyelids kept closing and my head suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred pounds—when the door opened. I sat up, startled.

The captain moved slowly to his chair and sat down.

He sighed heavily folding his hands in front of him. "He says you're lying."

My heart sank and I closed my eyes while his words sank in. I should have known better. What was I thinking coming here? Nick wasn't going to admit it. I opened my eyes and gazed at him, searching his face. But it was blank. He showed no emotion, taking no sides. The only way I knew that he was actually feeling something was his eyes; they were sad.

"Of course he would say that, but how did he explain this?" I asked, pointing to my arms.

"He said you had sex and it got a little rough."

Rage twisted inside me, inducing nausea. I thought I might vomit right there in front of the captain. "Are you serious? You're not going to do anything about this?" I cried, louder than I had intended.

His lips pressed together, creating tiny worry lines in the corner of his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. I can't ruin a man's career without proof."

"Proof? I told you he did it and I have the marks."

"I'm sorry," he said again, and from his tone I could tell that he wouldn't help me. I was on my own.

I sat still, waiting for something more, but that was all he would say. He just sat there looking down at his desk. I felt lost, helpless. What was I supposed to do when the people sworn to protect me refused to help? My eyes started to burn with the threat of tears and since I would not let anyone else see me cry, I stood up. "Fine," I yelled, unable to think of anything better to say. Then before the tears fell, I rushed out of the room.

Nick sat in an office across the hall and from the look on his face he wasn't going to be happy when he saw me next. I hurried out of the station before he could catch me. I needed to protect myself, since no one else would. I was on my own. As soon as he got home I knew he would make me pay for what I had done. I had seen it in his eyes while he glared at me. There was only one thing I could do.

RUN!
Chapter Seventeen

Defeated

I rushed home, packed two suitcases, my laptop and the pile of money I had stashed away for rainy days. Once I was sure I had everything necessary, I ran down to the parking garage. Panic and fear were my driving force. I couldn't get Nick's look of hatred from when I saw him at the station out of my head. There was no question that he would make me pay for what I had done. I needed some time away. I could go stay at a hotel somewhere or rent a place for a few weeks and give him some time to cool off—time to get over me. We had made a mistake and I had to believe that in time, he would see that.

The sky was dark, filled with gray clouds as I pulled the car out of the underground parking lot. I sat idly for a few seconds contemplating where to go. I hadn't thought this through; I just knew I couldn't be at the apartment when he got home. There was no time to plan. Where could I go? New York popped in my head. It was so big; it'd be easy to get lost in the crowds. Or I could go to Canada. The border was only an hour away. I had never been there and now was the perfect chance. But I had left my passport up in the apartment and I couldn't go back for it. I didn't have the time.

That left New York.

With a destination in mind, I tuned right onto Seaman and started to drive.

I had just passed Watertown when I called my mom to tell her I was going away for a few weeks. I regretted it when she started to question me. Finally I just made up a lie about going to New York for work and hung up. I didn't call anyone else. If someone was looking for me, she could tell them I was away.

As I drove, I thought about Nick, trying to figure out why he would have acted so violently. Had I provoked him in any way? He said he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't run away from him. Maybe that was true. I probably should have stayed and talked to him, calmly. But I was so shocked after he slapped me, I wasn't thinking straight.

So much had changed in the last twenty-for hours. Yesterday I had woken up in his arms, happy and content. Today, I was running in fear of the man I loved. How could things have gone so wrong? I just didn't understand. I was confused about my feelings for him. He had hit me, and turned into a different person, but how could I forget how much I loved him just one day ago? My emotions were in turmoil.

Getting away would be good for me. It would give me time to think.

Just as I passed Syracuse, lights flickered in my rear view mirror. When I looked up, my stomach dropped to the floor of the car, my blood turned to ice in my veins. There was a police cruiser coming up behind me at top speed. It was Nick, I knew it. But how could he have found me? Would my mother have told him? Not likely. She didn't like him.

The car drew closer, but I didn't pull over. I was too afraid. I kept driving, hoping it was a different officer and they would pass me.

Headlights flashed behind me, making me look through my mirror again. Now that the car was closer, I could no longer deny who it was. There was no mistaking the cold, dark, brown eyes that glared at me. Fear ripped through my chest, stabbing me like a knife. Maybe I could talk to him, reason with him. He'd always been so sweet. Maybe it really had just been a bad day? My hands shook as I turned the steering wheel, moving the car off to the side of the road.

I swallowed the fear that was threatening to choke me as I watched him climb out of the cruiser and make his way toward me. When I rolled the window down, he bent his head into the car. "Where are you going, Abby?" His voice was clipped, holding in his anger.

I considered lying, telling him I was just going shopping in Syracuse, but if he looked in the trunk, he'd know the truth. "I need to go to New York for work for a few days. I was going to call you when I arrived."

He narrowed his rage-filled eyes. "Really? Then why didn't you mention it when you saw me at the station after your talk with the captain?" I could feel rage coming off him in waves.

I heaved a resigned sigh. "Fine. I needed to get away to think things over. I was going to come back. I swear."

"I don't believe you." He leaned in, grabbing my left hand and squeezed so hard he cracked my knuckles. "You were running because you were afraid of me." He paused, looking around as though he was making sure we were still alone. "Abby, I wouldn't hurt you if you hadn't gone to the station. Why do you keep provoking me? I love you, stop fighting me?"

"I...I'm sorry." I swallowed the lump of fear that burned my throat, resisting the urge to argue with him. He was blaming me for what happened. It wasn't my fault...was it? "How did you find me?"

His eyes flicked to my cell in the center console so quickly I almost missed it. But I had seen it and knew he had tracked me by my phone. "I have my ways. I'm a cop. You will never be able to go anywhere without me finding you."

I was at a loss for words. I didn't really know this man and had no idea how to prevent another beating. I didn't want to provoke him, so I closed my mouth and didn't say anything more.

He leaned in through the window and yanked the keys out of the ignition. "Come on, get in my car. I'll have yours towed to the apartment." He opened my door and glared at me, the vein in his neck throbbing. He was beyond pissed. I knew if I tried to run, he would catch me. I grabbed my purse and the bag next to me. He opened the trunk and pulled out the rest of my belongings, stashing them in the trunk of his cruiser. Then he put me in the front seat of his car.

Once he slid into the driver seat, he started it without a word. The silence in the small space was palpable. With each passing mile my fear deepened. I needed to calm him down somehow. I didn't know what to say though. I had never been in this situation before.

It wasn't until we passed Watertown that I built up the courage to speak. "Nick, I'm sorry, okay. I know I shouldn't have left, or gone to the station, but I only did it because I was so shocked about last night."

The throbbing in his neck remained. His jaw was locked; his eyes never left the road ahead.

Knowing that at least for now I was stuck with him, I needed to get through this. I had obviously screwed up by leaving without a plan. It didn't occur to me that he could trace my cell—and my car; he'd have no problem finding that. He knew my plate numbers. What was I thinking, earlier? He was a cop. The only way I could get away from him was if I was careful. I knew that now. But in the meantime I had to get through this day.

I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have left. You must have been worried." The words felt like glue in my mouth, I didn't mean them and I was afraid he would sense that.

Finally, he turned to face me, his eyes softening from ice cold fury, to a cool breeze. "I was. I love you, Abby and I hate when we fight." He didn't say another word, but for some reason, I had hope. I knew in his own way he did love me. I just had to bide my time until I could get away for good.

He parked in the underground lot and led me to the elevators, gripping my arm as though he thought I'd run. Where would I go? He just proved that wouldn't work.

As soon as he closed the door to my apartment behind us, he tossed my bags onto the floor. In a move so fast I didn't see it coming, he had me up against the wall with his hand wrapped around my neck, choking me. I couldn't breathe, his grip was so tight. I thought this was the end. All I could focus on was the smell of his strong cologne and his beady eyes. He leaned in and whispered in my ear, "If you ever pull something like you did today again, I will kill you. Remember, I'm a cop; I know how to kill discreetly. Do you understand me?" he asked, looking me in the eyes.

I nodded, unable to speak.

"Good." He released me from his grip. I fell to the floor, leaning on my hands and knees coughing and wheezing, trying to get my breath back. I looked up to see him smiling down at me. "Now that we understand each other, let's order some pizza." His voice sounded cheerful as he clapped his hands together.

During dinner, I was the typical doting spouse. I served him, I smiled. I listened to him complain about work, I even kept my mouth closed when he grumbled about the problems I had caused at the station. I frowned, told him again how sorry I was, and rubbed his arm soothingly. When a smart comment came to my mind, it was replaced by an image of his hands around my neck and his threat that he would kill me. For that reason alone, I bit my lip and apologized, knowing that from this day on I was going to plan. I'd be smart the next time. No matter how long it took.

That night in bed, I woke to the sound of deep raspy sobbing. A shaking body pressed against me.

I blinked my eyes opened. It was still dark and I was in bed. Nick was the one leaning over me. "I'm so sorry. I love you so much; I don't want to hurt you. I'll try harder, I promise. I don't know why I did it. You're everything to me." His voice was so sincere, the pain audible. He rubbed the back of my head lovingly as he sobbed into my shoulder, his tears making my cheeks damp. He leaned up and pulled at my tank top running kisses over the bruising around my neck and shoulder. His lips brushed the tender skin, his cool breath washing over my heated, irritated flesh.

Did he really feel sorry for what he did? Did he truly love me as he said? The pain was so real in his eyes and voice that maybe he really would never do it again. He did genuinely sound like he regretted it. "Please say you forgive me. I can't lose you. When you left today, I was so angry. But even more than that, my heart broke at the thought of not having you in my life." His soft kisses moved up my neck, to my chin and then my lips. His actions were desperate and frantic as though he couldn't live if I rejected him.

Could I trust what he said? Should I give him a chance? The pain he felt was real, I knew that. I almost felt sorry for him. "Please," he begged against my lips, "I need you." His voice was edged with sorrow. My heart ached at the sound of it. Before I knew what was happening, I kissed him back, grief and sadness turning to need. Need for the love we shared, need to erase the last few days. He kissed me hungrily and in that kiss I felt his sorrow and pain. All I wanted was to make it better. We made love and afterwards I lay wrapped in his arms. "I love you, Abby. Please don't leave me again," he whispered as he fell asleep.

The next morning he was happy and loving as he said goodbye to me at the door. I had hope that he just had a bad couple of days. Maybe it wouldn't have gone as far as it did if I hadn't run after he slapped me, or if I hadn't went to the station. I wasn't ready to give up my plan to leave—not yet. But maybe I could give him another chance. It's not like I could run tomorrow. I had to plan, make sure he wouldn't find me again. And he seemed so sorry and so happy that I was here. What if it really was just a one-time thing? Maybe I could put the idea on hold, give him one more shot. If he did it again, then I would continue with my plan.

It lasted a week.

Friday night, as I was dishing out Chinese food onto plates, he came in, glared at me and slammed the door, the frame rattled with the impact. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, his voice coated with frost.

I froze, knowing that the reprieve he had promised was over. I knew that look. Although I had only seen it a few times, it was burned into my memory. "What's wrong?" The fear I felt was pushed down. I replaced it with what I hoped was a look of concern for him.

"What's wrong?" he mocked. "Did you ever think that maybe after a long day at work, you could make me a home cooked meal?" He knew I didn't cook, had told me that he found that cute.

"I thought you liked Chinese food."

He stomped toward me, his eyes cold, jaw locked. I froze with a big spoon in my hand, not knowing what to do. The furious glare he gave me was the only hint I needed to know that he was never going to change.

His hand shot out before I realized he'd moved, slapping me on the back of the head. Pain shot through my skull, but I didn't react to it. I bit my tongue, holding back the curse that hovered, reminding myself not to make it worse. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to make you something now?" I hated bowing down, no matter how necessary it was to protect myself.

"No. Just get me a beer."

As evening turning to night he grew more and more intense. By the time I went to bed, my upper arms were bruised again and I was pretty sure my wrist was sprained, making it impossible to write. When he fell asleep, I slipped out of the apartment and went for a drive.

I needed space and time away from him and my apartment. But with no destination in mind I found myself hours later parked in front of my mother's house. The lights were out; actually the whole neighborhood was dark. It was the middle of the night, what did I expect?

I sat in the dark, quiet car for a while, just gazing out at my former neighborhood not really knowing what I was doing there. I couldn't tell my mother what was happening, I didn't want to get her involved. However, ever since I was a kid and got sick or hurt, I wanted to be near my mom. She always made everything better. Even after all this time, my reaction hadn't changed. And I never needed her more than I did now.

I don't know how long I sat there before headlights appeared at the end of the street, coming my way. The SUV stopped in front of me and a man got out, heading toward my door.

I rolled down the window with my good hand, a ball of dread weighing me down.

"Did you come to visit your mom?" Nick asked with fake cheeriness coloring his tone.

"No, I just needed to go for a drive. I didn't go in."

His eyebrows rose. "Why don't we both go in for a visit? Let's wake her up; we have lots to talk about." As he spoke, he lifted his shirt to reveal a gun protruding from the jeans he had thrown on before going after me.

I choked on a shocked gasp, worry for my mother overwhelming me. "No," I began, my tone as casual as I could manage. "I'd rather just go home."

He smiled, dropping his shirt to cover the gun. "Sounds like a good plan. I missed you in our bed." He leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on my cheek and whispered in my ear. "You are not the only one in danger if you leave. I know where everyone you love lives."

I gulped, but remained silent as he backed away from my car and strode to his vehicle. Once he was inside, I started my car and followed him home. What other choice did I have, I was trapped.

When Nick left for work the next day, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my face. I looked defeated, stuck, with nowhere to go. The expression reminded me of something. I had seen the look on someone else before, but who? As I gazed at my eyes that appeared colorless, I realized what I had been missing. Now it all made sense.

Later that afternoon, there was a knock at my door. Heather stood in the hallway looking uncomfortable when I opened it. Her brown hair was down, cascading over her shoulders and back, but it looked messy, like all she had time for this morning was a quick brush-through. She was wearing an oversize coat and dark blue jeans. Her skin was as pale as it always was. "Okay, I'm here. What do you want?" She took a step inside, but stood as close to the exit as possible.

Closing the door, I took her fluffy blue coat, hanging it up on the coat rack and gestured to the dining room table. "Come in and sit down. Would you like a glass of wine?"

She hesitated, giving me a cautious glance, but took the seat I was pulling out for her. "Sure, I'll have one." She glanced around the apartment, knotting her fingers together anxiously as I poured two glasses of wine.

Her posture was guarded when I returned with the drinks and sat down next to her.

She took a sip and glared at me, waiting for me to explain why I summoned her.

I tasted the wine as well, savoring the bubbles on my tongue, searching for courage. Finally, I set my glass down. "When did Rob start abusing you?"

I was expecting her to be shocked by my blunt statement or at least give me a confused glance, maybe attempt to deny it. But she did none of those things. She was calm; her eyes were blank as she gulped her drink, acting as if I hadn't uttered a word. When she swallowed, she asked, "How soon was it for you? The moment he got the ring on your finger, or when he moved in?"

I blinked at her, unsure how to take her non-reaction. "Oh, he waited a day until he moved in, making it difficult for me to get rid of him." Now that I had confirmed my suspicions, I only had one question for her. "Why didn't you tell me? "

She sighed heavily, like the weight of the entire world sat on her shoulders. "Because my kids need a mother and if I told you, Rob would kill me." She took another sip of her wine. "But besides that, I hoped that I was wrong about Nick. I didn't know he'd be like his brother. He's never really been in a serious relationship." She paused again, holding her wine glass in her hand. "I did try to warn you at the baseball game, though."

I nodded. "You did, only I didn't understand. Until I saw the look on my face this morning, and remembered I had seen it before...on you."

"What look would that be, fear, humiliation, hate?"

"Defeat. I don't want to be with him, but I don't know how to get out of it. That's what I see when I look at you."

She sighed, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes as she leaned back in the wooden chair. "It started with us after we were married, but we didn't live together until then. It was such a shock. He wasn't like that at all while we dated. Sure, there were signs, but nothing compared to what he became. He said I was his wife now and I belonged to him." She took a long gulp of her wine, finishing it off. "Like I'm a goddamn TV or something. They see us as a possession."

I got up and went to the kitchen to fetch the bottle. When I returned, I poured her more. She nodded in thanks, a small smile on her lips.

"Why didn't you leave him?" I asked, rubbing the bottom of my wine glass with my finger. Since it was crystal, it made a high-pitched sound.

"I loved him and he said he loved me. And every time he hit me, he was so sorry after. He would always beg my forgiveness and bring me gifts. I know it sounds crazy, but he'd get so torn up about what he did to me, I ended up feeling sorry for him." I widened my eyes in shock, aware at how similar our stories were. "Anyway, then I got pregnant. I hoped once Bobby was here, he would change. Of course he didn't and I never would have had Nicky if he hadn't hidden my birth control pills. He wanted a boy. I didn't want to bring another child into the madness. I love Nicky with all my heart, but he's another reason why I can't leave."

"It can't be good for them to see it though." My heart was heavy for those poor kids. To live in a home with abuse was just awful...I couldn't imagine the damage it could do to them. It made me appreciate my own upbringing all the more.

She scowled. "Rob usually waits until they're in bed or when they're not home, but they know, they're not stupid."

We grew silent for a few moments, each of us contemplating our words. A child ran by in the hallway yelling to his mother. When it became quiet again, I studied my future sister in law. She was gazing down at the table, still deep in thought.

It wasn't just her bleak expression or her pale features that bothered me. It was also her posture. She sat slumped, almost closing in on herself as if hiding from the world. I didn't want to be like her. She might be resigned with her life, but I didn't have to be. She felt trapped because of her children, I had none. "Well, I need to do something because there's no way in hell I'm marrying him now," I declared. "The only problem is that he won't leave. I told him it was over, I even went to the station to get help. The captain said I had no proof since Nick denied it and made up an excuse for the bruises." I kept the fact that I had run to myself.

Her eyes widened to the size of golf balls. "Wow, you actually reported him?" She shook her head. "You're braver than I am. He always told me he'd kill me if I did that. Since he's a cop and his father and brother are as well, I figured I was screwed." She bent down, holding her head in her hands. "Sometimes I feel so trapped."

My chest ached for her even though I was now in the same situation. "You could go to a shelter. Maybe they could help you leave, find a better life for you and the kids."

She looked up and smiled sadly at me. "I went to a shelter once. He found me..." She trailed off as her eyes took on a far-off look. I could only imagine what happened after he found her. "I can't leave. I can't put the kids through that, life on the run. But you should, you don't have any children."

I sighed. "I've thought about it. But like Rob, he told me he'd kill me."

She shook her head, her lip twitching. "They're good with threats, aren't they?"

I nodded, leaning back in my chair, feeling as trapped as she did and frustrated because I couldn't help her. I just wished there was a solution for both of us. "Does Tina know? That first night I met the family, I heard her and Nick arguing about me."

Her lips turned up into a grin, her eyes flashing. "Yeah, she knows. She tried to help me in the beginning, but Sofia told her to stay out of it." When I gaped at her, my mouth filled with wine, she shrugged. "What do you expect? Their father did it, why wouldn't his sons?"

I swallowed hard. "Carlo abuses Sofia?"

"Yep. I once asked her why she allowed it. She told me that he had a stressful job and sometimes he couldn't help it. But what he was doing was important, so she just accepts it."

I froze, my eyes still glued to her, my hand clutched to the arm rest of the chair. "Oh my God, that's crazy," I gasped. "Nick said something like that the first time he hit me."

Heather swallowed the last of her wine and started to rise. "I should go before Rob finds out I was here. He'll think we were plotting against him." She made her way to the door and put on her coat, then paused with her hand on the knob, her shoulders heavy with guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't do a better job of warning you."

I nodded, wishing she had too, but I would never say that, it wasn't her fault. I should have paid more attention to the signs—his short temper and horrible jealous streak. "If you need anything, let me know."

She smiled as she walked out and shut the door behind her.

The sudden silence in the apartment after what we had just discussed, felt like a living pulse of loneliness.

I stowed the leftover wine in the fridge and rinsed out our glasses. I didn't want Nick to know I had company. Then I plopped down in front of the TV and thought about our talk. It only added to my resolve to run and as soon as I had all my ducks in a row, I was gone. With every degrading blow he threw at me, he took away a bit of my soul. I was lost inside myself and I needed to break free. And if that meant leaving the only place I knew, then so be it.

My only regret was my family and friends. I would miss them so much, but I knew that they would want a better life for me and that couldn't be here.
Chapter Eighteen

Tragedy

A week later, Nick and I were seated at the table eating spaghetti. After his complaint about me making home cooked meals, I began to make more of an effort. Nothing I cooked was overly complicated, but in order to keep the peace and avoid his rage, I would try anything. Ever since his threat the night I found myself at my mom's house, he had been better. There'd been no outbursts or abuse of any kind. Actually it had been quite the opposite. He was loving and affectionate, showering me with compliments and gifts, sometimes just stopping by during his shift simply to tell me he loved me and to steal a kiss. Not that I was fooled by this turnaround—I hadn't forgotten what he did, but it did confuse me into wondering if he was capable of change. I had yet to begin to plan my escape.

"Your cooking is improving," he said with a grin, his eyes dancing with humor. I had also made garlic bread and it sat between us in the middle of the table burnt to a crisp. The air in the apartment held a slight hint of smoke.

"At least the pasta is good."

He chuckled softly. "That's what I was referring to." He lifted a piece of the toast and took a bite.

I couldn't help but laugh at the fake yummy sounds he forced out after he swallowed.

The phone rang just as he took the last bite of his meal. When I started to stand, on my way to retrieve it, he stopped me. "I'll get it. You finish your spaghetti."

I smiled, appreciating his kindness, until an image of the gun in the waist band of his pants popped into my head wiping the smile away.

"Hello." He answered, standing in the living room. "Hi Mom."

I tuned him out when I realized the call was for him. Scraping the remnants of my food off of my plate, I stood up to clean the table off.

His voice rose with alarm as I carried both of our plates, cutlery and the parmesan cheese to the kitchen. "What?" he asked. "When did it happen?"

I placed the items on the counter and turned to watch him. His face had drained of color; his features were tainted with fear. I took a few tentative steps toward him, curiosity filling my brain. I had never seen him this distraught and it floored me.

"Okay...I-I'll be there soon...I love you too." He hung the phone up and stared at the wall, his face blank, eyes glazed.

He didn't say a word. After a few minutes of utter silence, I started to worry. Would he blame me for whatever had upset him? Was his silence the calm before the storm and he was gearing up for an all-time rage?

When I could take the suspense no longer, I walked slowly toward him. "What's wrong?" I asked hesitantly, terrified I was poking the bear by reminding him of my presence.

He didn't answer me.

I reached out and touched his shoulder, rubbing in small, soothing, circles. "Nick, is everything okay?"

My touch must have woke him from his daze because he finally made eye contact with me. "Yeah...uh." His voice was rough with pain. "Um...Rob was shot today at work."

Panic for a man I both liked and hated filled my chest. "Oh my God, is he alright?" I wrapped my arms around Nick, pulling him close. The smell of his musk cologne washed over my senses.

He was limp for a brief moment before he slowly lifted his arms to return the hug. Digging his face into my shoulder, I heard a ragged sob. "They're not sure, the bullet grazed his heart so it's touch and go right now. He's in surgery."

Taken aback by his rare vulnerability, I took charge. "Why don't you sit down and I'll go change. And then we can drive to the hospital and see how he's doing. I know you'll feel better being with your family."

He nodded lifelessly, gazing down at his hands. "He's my only brother," he mumbled. "I-I can't lose him."

I crouched down in front of him, framing his face with my hands, his stubble scraping against my palms. "You won't. He is a fighter and he will survive this."

He nodded, his eyes finally making contact with me. "I love you so much. I don't know what I would do without you." His voice was filled with such aching sorrow, that I leaned in and kissed him. It was meant to comfort, but I realized as he took the kiss further, it was the only time I had made the first move since the day we got engaged.

After we drew apart, I went into my room to change. While I was in there, I pulled out a change of clothes for him as well, carrying them out to the living room. When he took them, he moved like a robot, throwing the new jeans and long sleeve shirt on without a word. I helped him with his buttons and then led him out of the apartment to go see his brother.

On the way to the hospital, Nick was silent; a far off look hovered over his features. Despite our rocky relationship, I found myself with the need to comfort him. So in order to take his mind off of his brother, I prattled on about Justin's soccer game I had gone to a few days before. Nick had been working late. Justin wasn't what you would call athletic. But what he lacked in ability, he made up in determination. He ran after the ball with all his might, never once scoring a goal. One time, he did assist in one—for the other team. It was a little hard to watch, but all that mattered was that he had fun.

By the time we pulled up to the hospital, Nick wore a wan smile. His eyes were sad as he turned to face me. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up." He gave me a quick kiss before we made our way inside.

The waiting room was teaming with Costas of all ages. Tina was sitting in the corner attempting to calm a screaming Hannah. Her parents sat talking loudly to an older couple I had never met before. Since the man resembled Carlo so much, I knew he must be his brother Frank. Frank was Nick's favorite uncle and talked about him often.

Heather sat at the far end of the room sitting quietly by herself. Bobbie and Nicky were playing hand held video games next to Tina. I left Nick in the care of his parents and crossed the room to Heather.

"Hey," I said quietly, approaching her. "How are you doing?"

She looked up at me, her eyes red with unshed tears. Her hair was messy as if she had been running her hands through it in frustration. "Fine." Her tone was dismissive and at one time would have had me fleeing in the opposite direction. However, now that we had bonded over our similar situations, I ignored it and sat down in the chair next to her.

"He'll be okay, Heather."

She shook her head with a laugh, the sound held no humor.

"What?" I asked, curious as to what she found humorous in this situation.

"This is my fault," she muttered quietly.

My brows furrowed in confusion. "Nick said he was shot on duty. How could you be at fault for that?"

She sighed, spinning around to face me. "Because I wished for his death and when I got the call this afternoon, the first thing I felt was relief."

My eyes widened, shocked by her complete honesty. "Oh...um." I didn't know what to say.

She turned away from my expression. "I know, I'm a horrible person."

The shock I felt evaporated, morphing into understanding and sympathy. "You are not a horrible person." I glanced over at the family, making sure that they couldn't hear us. No one was paying attention. The older group was focussed on each other. The kids were still lost in their games. "He has put you through hell. All you wanted is for it to stop."

She nodded, her expression full of emotional turmoil. "How can someone both love and hate the same person?" she asked me, her eyes imploring.

It was odd that she was asking me. She had a lot more experience than I did. I shrugged. "I don't really know. But I am learning that life isn't always black and white. There are all kinds of grey. It would be a lot easier to hate them if they were abusive all the time." I glanced over at Nick, who was now holding Hannah. He still looked sad and worried for his brother, but he was also smiling down at his niece. She had stopped screaming and was staring up at him, touching his cheek. I couldn't help but be moved by the sight. My lips twitched upward.

"He got to you didn't he?" I heard Heather ask.

I spun away from Nick, putting my focus back on her. "What do you mean?"

"The last time we talked you were adamant on leaving him."

The past week had been a good one, showering me with attention. He was his old self again, but even that hadn't affected me as much as the vulnerability he'd shown in the last hour since he found out about his brother. I never imagined he was capable of feeling such an emotion. I shrugged. "I just saw a side of him I've never seen before."

She leaned forward, staring straight into my eyes. "Listen to me. Don't let him get to you. You still have a chance at a better life. I don't." With those words hanging in the air between us, she pulled back and stood up, stalking toward an exit, leaving me stunned silent in my plastic, waiting room chair.

I sat amongst my fiancé's family in the middle of a crisis, staring after her, shocked by her words. Despite her current situation she still wanted out. I turned around and gazed at Nick. He was laughing softly, playing patty cake with Hannah. I tried to picture the man before me as the one who raped and beat me, but for some reason, I couldn't. Even though in my mind, I knew he was one in the same.

Once the surgery ended and Rob was stable, he was transferred to a recovery room. The family was permitted a short visit. Heather and Nick's parents went in first, returning in tears. Then it was Nick and Tina's turn.

When he emerged a few moments later his complexion had paled, his eyes red. Tina was crying next to him as he held her hand, making their way toward us. When I stood up to comfort him, I was suddenly in his tight embrace while he sobbed into my ear. I wrapped my arms around him, seeing Heather watching us over his shoulder. She held my gaze for a moment and then looked away, moving to sit with her children.

As the hours ticked by, the waiting room emptied bit by bit. First Nick's aunt and uncle left, asking Sophia for updates. An hour after that, Heather's sister appeared to collect Bobby and Nicky. Earlier, when the kids had begun to get restless, Sophia suggested that they go home.

Once they left, Heather looked so alone sitting all by herself, I wanted to go and comfort her. The only reason I stayed planted in my seat was because of Nick. He hadn't let go of my hand and by the look of raw fear in his eyes I knew I needed to be with him. Tina was the next one to go. She stood up, holding her sleeping baby and said her goodbyes.

"Nick, why don't you and Abby go home and get some rest. It's late and there's nothing you can do," Sophia suggested, turning in her seat. "Come back in the morning. I'm sure Rob will be doing better and you can have a longer visit."

We took her advice, saying our farewells to everyone who was left. And then we went home.

A dry throat lured me out of a deep sleep. I needed a drink but I didn't want to wake Nick. He had a hard day and needed to rest. Slipping out of the bed carefully and tiptoeing into the kitchen was easy once my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I had lived in this apartment for a few years and could navigate through it blindfolded.

Light spilled into the kitchen as I opened the fridge door. Spotting the last water bottle, I pulled it out and guzzled it down. The cold liquid flowed down my throat, quenching my thirst. I took it with me back into the bedroom just in case I woke thirsty again.

"Hi," a small voice whispered in the darkness scaring the shit out of me.

Jumping out of my own skin, the water bottle went sailing through the air, landing on the floor with a splat and then rolled under the bed. I held my hand over my beating heart, breathing heavy as I stared at Nick. He was lying over the covers where I had left him, his gaze holding mine. "God, you scared me." My breathing slowed. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Nope. I can't stop thinking about Rob." Even though his voice was low, just above a whisper, I could hear the worry in it.

My heart went out to him. I couldn't imagine what he was going through. My sister Brenda was more than a sister to me, she was my friend. We shared the same memories, the same parents and the same loss. No one in the world could understand me as she could. If I lost her, I would feel alone in a very big world.

I climbed onto the bed, crawling over the mattress until I hovered over him. "He is going to be fine," I whispered.

He swallowed loudly, as if pushing down a lump in his throat. "He was the one that taught me to ride a bike." His voice was so low; I fell onto the bed beside him and leaned my head on his shoulder to hear him better.

"What about your dad?" I asked. A vision of my father running beside me the first time I rode a two wheeler flashed in my mind. I couldn't supress the smile that forced its way over my lips.

"He was too busy with his career. He was hardly ever around. But Nick, he took care of me, even protected me from bullies."

The smile on my face widened as I pictured Nick as a child, running from mean kids, his big brother protecting him. My heart warmed for the man I knew was hurting Heather. I was already dealing with a whirlwind of emotions for the man beside me, who I both hated and loved, so why not throw in some more confusing emotions for my future brother in law.

"I'm glad he was a good brother to you."

"He was better than good. Every time I think of an important moment in my life, he was there at some point. I-I...can't imagine him not being there if..." he trailed off, not able to say where his train of thought was heading. But he didn't need to finish. I knew he was worried that Rob would die. It was a strong possibility. The doctors said that they had done all that they could. Now it was up to Rob.

The sound of a siren drifted in through the open window. I raised my voice a smidge to compensate. "Like I said before. He is a fighter."

He smiled. "You're right, he is. You should have seen some of the brawls we got ourselves into."

I smacked him on the arm. "That's not what I meant."

He laughed, pulling me on top of him again. I hovered over him, my arms holding me up. "Have I told you how great you've been since we found out?"

I nodded, but remained silent.

"I love you so much. I'm so sorry for the way I've behaved."

An ache formed in my heart at his words. I didn't want to talk about this. We were having a moment. I didn't want to ruin it.

I shook my head, opening my mouth to protest, but was silenced when he pressed his finger over my lips. "Let me say this. I have been an awful fiancé. You deserve so much better than me and yet I've treated you so horribly." He took a deep breath in. "I'm so sorry. I promise you, I will never hurt you again. I mean it this time." His words were laced with so much emotion that I wanted to believe that this time was different, that he finally meant it—craved it with every cell in my body.

My eyes watered. A tear escaped, sliding down my cheek and onto his chin. If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. I couldn't speak. My throat was raw from the tears that threatened to flow.

He reached up and wiped my tear away with the pad of his finger, caressing my face. My skin burned from the touch. "Can we start over?" he asked in a whisper that made him seem even more vulnerable than when he found out his brother had been shot.

Without thought, I nodded my head.

He smiled. "I couldn't survive this without you."

Instead of answering, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his, kissing him with all the emotion flowing through my body. I loved him so much. I believed what he said, that he truly loved me and wouldn't hurt me again.

He reached up and threaded his fingers through my hair as it fell in a veil around my face, pulling me closer. He kissed me with a hunger that sparked a fire in me, ignited by the hope that we could be happy together. Sensations buzzed through me like a live wire as the kiss progressed. His lips moved down to my chin, running toward my neck and I gasped as he scraped his teeth against my flesh. He chuckled softly at my reaction, lifting my tank top over my head, making it easier to rain tiny kisses over my breasts. I sucked in a breath as heat pooled in my stomach. I wanted him more than I ever had. I bent forward, kissing him with a fever I couldn't control as my hands moved over his boxers, pulling them down. He assisted in the removal of his underwear and then yanked at mine.

With nothing between us, I took him inside me, showing him that I was willing to start over as he wanted. I had faith that we could be happy together.

Afterward, lying in his arms, he whispered, "You won't regret forgiving me. I'll show you how much I love you."

I didn't answer. I was too overwhelmed with emotion. I'd never felt as close to him as I did tonight.

Too bad his promise didn't last long. He betrayed me a week after Rob was released from the hospital when he slammed my head against the wall for forgetting to do his laundry.

What was that saying? 'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice'...okay, so I was a slow learner. He'd fooled me so many times I'd lost count, but no more.

I was done.
Chapter Nineteen

The Plan

Nick's betrayal haunted me every moment since the day it happened. He was so lost from the possibility of losing his brother that my heart broke for him. I had truly believed he was sorry for how he treated me and that he would never do it again. That's what made his lies such a betrayal, because of the vulnerability he showed me, I believed him with everything in me.

Now though, I knew the truth. He was a master manipulator who only told me what I wanted to hear to get what he wanted. I may have fallen for more than I should have during our tumultuous relationship, but those days were over. I no longer believed his apologies or even that he loved me. How could a person abuse someone they claimed to love?

Everyone has their breaking point and I had found mine.

As the weeks turned into months, I learned how to avoid arguments with Nick. It was mostly trial and error. As long as dinner was on the table, he'd be happy. In order to avoid him, I started taking my run right after dinner was ready. By the time I came home he was finished eating and was involved in a game on TV, so I could slip into the bedroom unnoticed. I was safe until he came to bed and wanted to make love. I let him do what he wanted; usually pretending he was someone else to make it more bearable.

My plan sometimes failed. If he had a bad day, anything could set him off. I didn't cook the right food, I wasn't there when he got home from work or I didn't wash a shirt he wanted to wear. These fights usually ended up with me crying myself to sleep and waking up with bruised wrists, back, or legs. Like the time he kicked me in the shin because I was blocking the game. And like clockwork, he'd apologize, with flowers or jewelry. I woke twice more with his nighttime painful apologies. The difference was, his words now fell on deaf ears. I no longer trusted or cared what he said. Of course, I would never admit this to him. Grin and bear it was my new motto.

Two months after I decided to run, I was almost ready to go. I was heading to Canada. I just had to pick a destination. Toronto sounded good. It was big, like New York, crowded enough to get lost in. The day before I planned to put everything in action, I received a call from Brenda. My mom had taken a fall at work. I was panicked at first, worried about my only parent, but was assured that it was just a broken leg. The problem was that she would need help at home. Brenda wanted to take turns. This meant I had to wait to leave. I couldn't help feel the sting of tears. I had been so close to freedom and now I had to wait. I didn't blame my mother, it wasn't her fault. I was just frustrated.

Nick didn't take the news well. He hated me spending so much time with my mom. The only way I could settle him down was to promise I'd be home when he got back from work. I was hoping I could take the day shifts, Brenda the evenings. Since I worked from home and hadn't been writing for months, it was the most logical plan.

As the weeks of my mother's care flew by, I lived a double life. I felt free with her during the day and hated returning home. At night, I never left the apartment. Nick didn't want me to go out much. His explanation was that he wanted me all to myself, but I wasn't an idiot. After researching online, I found out that the typical response of an abuser was to isolate the woman from their family and friends. Honestly, I didn't mind. I was ashamed that I had allowed my life to turn out this way. I couldn't face them. So at night, I isolated myself from my former life. My apartment became my prison, Nick my jailer. I was a shell of the woman I once was. And my mother noticed. I lied to her every day. She asked me frequently if I was alright. My answer was always the same. I was fine.

I enjoyed my time with her. I kept busy doing the chores she couldn't and when I was finished, we'd play cards. She became my escape, the only person outside of Nick that I saw.

When she got better, I was all alone.

As months flew by, there always seemed to be a reason that I couldn't execute my escape plan—Christmas, birthdays, Justin or Hayley's recital or school play. There was always something and before I knew it, it was the New Year. I was still miserable, living a life feeling trapped and hopeless.

One afternoon in early February, I was sitting on the couch double-checking my list of things that needed to get done before I left, when there was a knock at the door. I got up, glancing quickly in the mirror hanging on the wall to check for bruises. Nick was careful not to mark any exposed skin, but I liked to make sure just in case. Nick hadn't hit me in over two weeks and it was making me anxious. Long lulls in his abuse usually led to a severe rage. I wasn't looking forward to that.

Since my face was unmarked, I opened the door to find Debbie leaning against the doorjamb looking pissed.

"You've been avoiding me," she accused, stomping into the living room and collapsing onto the sofa. She was right, of course, I was avoiding everybody. If it wasn't for special occasions I would never see my family.

I picked up my list and turned the page before she saw what was on it.

Her curly cinnamon-colored hair was up today. The rust-colored blouse she was wearing was low cut and her black pencil skirt showed off her legs. She was glowing. Brian must have been good for her. I was both happy and jealous at the same time. "What's going on with you? You don't return mine or Brenda's phone calls. You haven't been handing in any more chapters. I haven't heard anything about the wedding and neither has Brenda. Either you've picked other bridesmaids, or you're not planning at all." She kicked my slippered foot that was resting on the coffee table. "So come on, which is it?"

I moved my foot, folding it under me. "Nothing's going on. I haven't started planning the wedding, but I have lots of time. And I've decided to take a break from writing. I never take time off. I think I'm entitled, don't you?"

She narrowed her eyes, studying me. "Well, yes I think you're entitled. Wasn't it me telling you before you met Nick that you work too much?" She leaned forward and placed her hand on my knee. Her touch was comforting. It had been so long that I was touched without wincing. "But you haven't written in four months. That's not like you. Something's wrong and I'm not leaving until you tell me." She pulled her hand away and sat up straight.

I folded my arms in front of me, suddenly panicked. She couldn't know my secret. I was too ashamed. "I told you, I'm fine."

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice." She opened her bag and pulled out a small container. Lifting the lid, she revealed my favorite cake. Damn it, she played dirty. "Three-layered red velvet, with cream cheese icing and chopped pecans. It's your favorite. Now tell me what's wrong or I'm taking this home."

I breathed in the sweet smell of chocolate, fighting the urge to rip the container from her hand. Instead, I looked away, my mouth watering. "No thanks, I'm not hungry."

I saw her face change from a teasing smile to worry—lines formed between her eyes, her lips pressed together. Standing up, she pulled me into her arms. I held on tight, craving her warmth. The smell of her kiwi-scented shampoo reminded me of when we were roommates. "Abby, you are my best friend. I've known you since college. We've been through everything together. Now please tell me what's wrong." Her voice was soft, pleading. It made me feel good that she cared so much. It was true what she said. We had always been close and if our situations were reversed, I would do the same thing. I just couldn't open up to her. I had to face this alone. I couldn't bring anyone I cared about into this. He had already threatened my mother and everyone I loved. Making a plan to leave was risky, but I had to believe, he was bluffing. I was the only one in danger from him; he was simply manipulating me into staying. That's what I told myself every time I opened my escape journal.

I pulled away from Debbie, opening my mouth to answer, but she stopped me before I could. "Don't say it's nothing, because I know you." I stepped away from her, settling back into the armchair. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. "Is it Nick? Are you having second thoughts?"

I looked down, picking at my yoga pants and stayed silent.

"Okay, so that's a yes. Did he cheat on you?"

"No," I answered softly, worried that she was about to guess the real problem.

"Well, what then? Did he kill someone? Is he a cross-dresser? Is he gay? Is he a jazz singer in Vegas?"

A laugh slipped out. "No, of course not, don't be silly." It felt good to laugh. I hadn't done so in a long time.

"Well, what is it then? Because I know he doesn't hit you." And again, I looked down, fingering the material on my pants. This time she grabbed my chin, lifting it so I would look her in the eye. "Abby, you tell me he doesn't hit you."

I pulled my head out of her hands and stood up, moving over to the window. Peering down at the street, I watched Spencer hailing a cab for Mrs. Lancaster in 3B. I couldn't stand the pain and concern that crossed Debbie's face. If I saw it another second I would lose it.

"That son of a bitch, I'm going to kill him."

I spun back around, hoping my expression was blank. I couldn't break down in front of her.

"Don't you worry about a thing, because the next time I see that asshole, he's a dead man." She started pacing the living room.

I laughed. The thought of Debbie hurting anyone made me giggle. I had seen such violence over the last four months, for some reason I found it funny that she thought she could hurt anybody. She just didn't have it in her and that was a good thing. "Oh yeah, Debbie you're so tough." I don't know why I was smiling. Maybe I was relieved that she finally knew, or maybe I was starting to go insane.

She stopped pacing and pointed at me. "What I want to know is why the hell you're still with him."

The urge to laugh subsided, replaced by apprehension. "Debbie, I can't talk about this. I'm handling it. I'll be okay."

"What do you mean handling it? Because it had better mean you're going to cut his balls off and shove them in his mouth."

This time I laughed so hard tears ran down my cheeks. God, I missed her.

Wiping the tears away, I sat down on the sofa and pulled her down with me. "You can't say anything. Nothing to Brian and when you see Nick, act normal. He told me if I reported him or tried to leave him again he would kill me. I am going, but every time I decide it's time, something comes up. When I do go though, it means I will have to leave town. I won't see any of you, indefinitely."

Her eyes widened. "You reported him and tried to leave?"

"Yes, but since he's a cop, they won't do anything. So I ran and he caught me. I believe him when he said he'll kill me."

She closed her eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line. When she opened them, her face was full of determination. "Then you have to go. It will be horrible without you, but your life is more important. Just do it right this time." She started to cry. "God damn it! Let's eat this cake."

I laughed and made my way to the kitchen to retrieve some spoons.

Debbie was true to her word and didn't say anything to anyone. She did tell Brenda that she needed to go see me. So a week after I dealt with Debbie, my mother and sister paid me a visit. We were all settled at the table having coffee when my sister blurted out, "Abby, I just have to say it. You look like shit."

A laugh snuck out before I could stop it. The old oversized T-shirt and jogging pants I was wearing hung off my body and I had thrown my hair up in a rough pony tail. I hadn't expected company and I didn't usually clean myself up until just before Nick arrived. He didn't like when I looked messy. That was the reason why I did it when he wasn't around. It was the only way to rebel and make my own decisions. But I knew her words meant more than just what I was wearing. My skin was pale and bags were beginning to form under my eyes from lack of sleep. Leave it to my sister to speak her mind.

My mother set her mug of coffee down on the table, lines rippled in the liquid. She gazed at me. Her clear blue eyes held mine. "Abby, what's going on? And don't tell me nothing, I'm sick of you lying to me."

I sighed, wanting to keep this to myself, but since Debbie knew the truth, it was time to be honest. I stared down at my coffee. "Nick...has..."

My mother gasped. "Don't tell me that he's hurt you."

Brenda's eyes went so wide, I thought they might pop out of her head. "Mom, that's ridiculous, Nick would never do that." She turned to me. "Abby, tell her."

I kept silent, taking a drink of my coffee.

"Abby?" Brenda cried, desperation in her voice.

"How did you know?" I asked my mother, ignoring my sister.

She reached over, and took my hand. Hers was warm against my cold one. Ever since Nick moved in I was always cold. "I didn't until now. I knew something was wrong though. I just couldn't figure out what." She sighed. "I should have known, I work in a hospital. I've seen my share of abused women. You have all the signs."

I shrugged. "There's nothing you could have done anyway." Before I could stop myself, I started to cry. I couldn't help it. Jumping up to get the tissue box, I handed one to Brenda, who had joined me in a crying jag. "I have to leave. I tried before, but he found me. I have a better plan now."

"What? You can't leave," Brenda gasped, looking from me to our mother.

My mom reached over and touched Brenda's knee. "She has to. It's the only way she'll be safe." She winked at Brenda and then turned to me. "Abby, when you're ready, let me know and I'll go stay with your sister. But don't take too long. He's going to start to wonder why you're not planning the wedding."

Brenda fiddled with the handle of her mug. "Come on, Mom, it's not that bad. Tell her, Abby." She was grasping for some good news and she looked to me for answers. I was just sorry I couldn't give her the ones she wanted.

I smiled sadly at Brenda, shaking my head. It broke my heart to see her accept it. Her face crumbled as she acknowledged the news. I glanced at my mom and nodded.

Brenda gazed down into her coffee. "If it'll keep you safe, then you have to go."

I smiled at the two women I loved more than anyone in the world. "Thank you. I really needed your blessing." That must have been the reason I had been putting my departure off, because I hated to leave them. Now that they knew and agreed, it was time.
Chapter Twenty

The Last Straw

That night, Nick informed me that we'd be having dinner at his mother's place. I wasn't in the mood after my visit with my own family, yet I didn't dare admit that to him.

After dinner, the family retired to the living room for dessert and coffee.

Heather hovered over Rob who was sprawled out on the sofa, still on the mend from the shooting. He was mostly recovered. Just sore when he moved too quickly and tiring easily, but the family doted on him constantly, always making sure he was comfortable. Rob's complexion was a little on the pale side, a contrast to his wife who actually looked really good. She was almost dressed up, wearing skinny jeans and a flowing blouse. Her hair and skin nearly glowed. I studied her from my perch next to Nick in the oversized arm chair. She caught me looking at her and gave me a small smile. I couldn't help but wonder what had changed. Why did she look so good?

When the dessert tray needed replenishing, I took the chance to find out. "I'll fill this up for you, Sophia," I announced, standing and picking up the tray.

"Thank you Abby, do you know where the rest of the squares are?"

I nodded. "Yes." I glanced at Heather as I walked out, hoping she would take my hint.

Thankfully she did. As I rounded the corner, I heard her call out, "I'll help you Abby."

"What's going on?" I whispered once she approached me as I was pulling the container out of the cupboard. "You look better than I've ever seen you."

"I'm happier than you've ever seen me." She shrugged taking a few squares out and placing them on the tray. "He's changed." When I gave her a pointed glare, holding a brownie in my hand, she nodded. "I know. I'm not counting on it lasting forever. He's made so many promises in the past, but honestly, I think this time is different. He acts different, like he really cares about me. He asks me how my day at work was and since he's still off on medical leave, he has food on the table when I get home. He suggests shopping trips with my friends so I can have time to myself. He even asked if I wanted to spend more time with my family."

Finishing off the dessert tray, I stared at her, my eyes bugging out of my head in shock. "Wow."

She smiled, her eyes that had always been lifeless, now shone bright. "He almost died. And now he says he wants to have a better life than the one he was living before."

I smiled, wondering if I shot Nick if he'd change as well. I shook that thought away and hugged her. "I'm so happy for you."

She laughed, pulling away. "Let's not get carried away. We'll have to wait and see if this change lasts."

I frowned. "I might not be here to find out."

Her smile faded. "You're leaving?" she whispered, even though the family were conversing loudly in the living room and wouldn't be able to hear us.

Instead of answering I simply nodded.

"Good. You're not looking so hot."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was the second time today I'd been insulted about my appearance. I picked up the tray. "We should get these back before someone comes looking for us."

She nodded, placing the now empty container into the sink.

Back in the living room, the men were discussing cases they were working on. Carlo was filling Rob in on what he'd been missing at work and Nick was regaling the group about a bust he and Brian had made last week. I tuned them out and focused on the food. Sophia's brownies were as close to heaven as I've ever been. When the conversation moved to Tina, I looked away from the treat in my hand. Her maternity leave would soon be over and she was returning to the hospital soon. I sat quietly beside Nick trying not to be noticed.

It turned out that I wasn't as invisible as I had hoped.

"How are the wedding plans coming, Abby?" Sofia asked from her chair across from me when Tina finished talking.

My chest tightened and my hands threatened to shake. Why did she have to ask that? "Good." It was the only word I could think to answer; my mind went blank.

"Tell me, have you decided where you're having it? Have you picked bridesmaids? What are your colors?"

Okay, so I couldn't put it off any longer. We had been engaged for months, people were bound to wonder what was happening. I was just thankful Nick was too busy at work to really ask much about it. He was happy to allow me to plan it, he just wanted final approval. I lifted my head, looking her in the eyes. "Actually, I've decided to put the plans on hold for a while. I'm in the middle of a book and my editors are rushing me to get it done." I glanced at Nick and saw his face harden, his eyes go cold. Fear knotted inside me, knowing the lull in his abuse was over.

Heather must have noticed his reaction as well because she spoke up for me. "You're writing a book? What's it about?" Her voice was strong. The weak, timid woman I met months ago was nowhere in sight. I was the one cringing and hiding from the group now. Our positions were reversed and I had to admit I didn't like the change. I was happy for her, but I couldn't wait to be free.

Giving her a smile in silent thanks, I went into the plot of the book I hadn't written in months. I was desperate to change the subject and thanks to Heather and Tina the wedding plans were never mentioned again—until we arrived home.

As soon as Nick closed the door behind him, he struck me across the face. The blow was so powerful, I fell to the floor. "How dare you embarrass me like that? You told me you were planning the wedding. I don't like to be lied to, Abby." He hovered above me, like an animal stalking its prey.

Cradling my battered cheek with my hand, I glared up at him. "I was planning the wedding, but they started pressuring me to get the book done." I shrugged. "I just thought I'd put the wedding on hold for a few months so I could work on it." I hoped I sounded convincing, attempting to make the tone of my voice as casual as possible.

He bent down and lifted me up, digging his fingers into my shoulders as he shoved me against the wall, his hand clenched around my throat, choking me. "Nothing is more important than marrying me. Not your stupid little books, not your family. Nothing. You got that?" His face was so close I could smell his mother's meat loaf on his breath. His teeth were clenched, his voice a low growl. I gulped for air and struggled, clawing at his hands, yet it was no use. His grip was like a vise. I couldn't even nod. My vision started to fade in and out.

As I was on the edge of consciousness, I looked into the deep brown eyes that stared into mine. They were full of hate and disgust as the man attached to them drained the life from my body. He said he loved me, but continually beat and ridiculed me. He said he wanted to marry me, but what he really wanted was to possess me. He said he wanted to be together forever, but my life, my essence, my soul, was slipping away by the hands of the man who loved me.

Just before the world went black, he pulled his hand away and I fell to the floor. I lay sprawled on the carpet gasping for air. I reached up to touch my locket, needing comfort only my father could give. All I felt was tender skin. Struggling to sit up, I frantically searched the floor.

"Are you looking for this?" Nick called from the kitchen. I glanced up and to my horror, saw the locket dangling from his fingers, hanging over the garbage disposal. He flicked the switch with an evil smile. The motor made a low growl, like a monster demanding to be fed.

"No, don't!" I yelled desperately, gasping for breath. The idea of losing the necklace again was like losing my father for the second time.

"Don't worry I won't. Just promise me you'll stop the book and plan the wedding."

"I promise, just give me my necklace."

He held the necklace out to me. It dangled from his long fingers. I stood up and rushed forward. Just as I reached the kitchen doorway, he pulled his hand back and dropped my locket into the disposal. My heart dropped to my feet, tears springing to my eyes. The loud grinding sound told me the locket was destroyed, yet I ran over to the sink anyway hoping for a miracle. When I reached the basin I couldn't see anything—it was gone.

I glared at him with every ounce of hatred inside me. "You said if I agreed that you wouldn't drop it."

He laughed as he sauntered out of the kitchen and into the living room. "I lied." He fell onto the sofa and turned the TV on. I watched him flicking through the channels with the remote, not a care in the world.

I had never had the urge to kill another human being in my life, however at that moment I pictured myself walking over and stabbing him with the knife that I used to chop vegetables. He had just ruined my most prized possession. That locket was tied to the memories of my father who I missed terribly. In my mind Nick had taken those memories of the one man who treated me with love and respect and tossed them away like they were garbage. I had made excuses for not leaving yet; I didn't want to leave my family, I was scared to be caught. But that was the last straw. Nick took away all I had left of my father and now I was done with excuses.

I hoped he rotted in hell.

"Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to start the plans? I meant what I said; no more writing your childish books, it's about time you grew up." He was watching TV and scratching his leg. I used to be attracted to him, now he disgusted me.

His words brought me out of my thoughts and I realized I had been standing in the middle of the room staring at him. "I thought you liked that I wrote children's books. You seemed interested when we met."

He glared at me like I was the stupidest person on the planet. "I was trying to get you into bed, I would have said anything. Now get your ass in gear."

I really wanted to yell at him, give him a piece of my mind and if he had acted this way when we first met, I would have. Now however, since I had felt the sting of his hand, I pushed my anger back, knowing I wouldn't have to take it much longer and slunk away. I dug out a new notebook, sat at the table and began making fake lists for the wedding. When he fell asleep on the couch, I went to bed. I had a big day tomorrow and I needed to plan.
Chapter Twenty-One

Goodbye

I was up at five in the morning going over the plan. Since my options were slim on places to hide, I was in the bathroom, poised on the closed toilet seat with a flashlight. The door was locked so if Nick woke up and needed to go, I could stash my notebook under my shirt and slip out without him knowing a thing. Thankfully, he stayed asleep. I made my final plans without interruptions.

At six, I went out to the kitchen and put the coffee on. Then I took out my fake wedding to-do list and sat down at the table. When Nick woke up a few minutes later, he stumbled into the kitchen wearing only boxers. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked sleepily. Although his chest was toned, it no longer appealed to me. How could I like anything about a man who uses his hand to hurt a woman?

"I was just getting an early start on the wedding plans. I think I'll go this afternoon and scout some venues."

His smile was crooked and his eyes were shining when he closed the gap between us. "There you go, that's more like it." He almost took my life last night and he woke up in a good mood. He kissed me quickly on the lips before pouring himself some coffee. "I have to hurry. I have an early day." He disappeared with his coffee into the bedroom and ten minutes later, rushed out, not knowing he'd never see me again.

Not long after he left, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see Sylvia standing in the hallway. Her hair was up in a bun, purse tucked under her arm and she was wearing a silver-blue dress. "Good morning, Sylvia, what brings you by this early?" I asked, holding the collar of my robe closed to hide the black and blue marks that were just beginning to show around my neck. She took a few steps into the apartment. I peeked out in the direction of the elevator to make sure Nick was gone. Satisfied with the empty hallway, I closed the door and gestured for her to take a seat.

She didn't move, just stood by the door. "I wanted to come by and tell you that I'm going to stay with my daughter for a few weeks."

This was strange for a few reasons. The first was that she'd never told me before when she was leaving, unless she left the city and then she would ask if I could pick up her mail. The second, she had told me she hated staying at her daughter's because of her yappy shih tzu that never stopped barking. I wasn't in the mood to question her so I let my suspicions go. I needed to get moving and didn't have time to stand around chatting. "Oh? Well...have fun."

Instead of turning toward the door as I had hoped, she stepped forward and yanked down my robe, the cool air instantly causing goose bumps to run over my skin. I was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts, yet my state of undress wasn't the issue. She was staring at the marks on my neck and a bruise that was fading on my shoulder.

Shocked by her sudden move, I gaped at her. "Sylvia, what are you doing?"

She reached into her purse, pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. "Open it."

Despite my confusion, I did as instructed and read the few lines that were written neatly on the paper:

Abby, I know what is happening between you and Nick and I feel that you have to leave. In the envelope is a key to my cottage in Shimmer Lake. Please go there as soon as you can. You can't let him do this to you. You can stay as long as you like. You can live there forever if you need to, just go.

I will miss you,

Sylvia.

Be safe.

I raised a brow at her in question.

"Thin walls," she whispered.

The key lay at the bottom of the envelope, the address written on the key chain. When I looked up at her, her face was set. She was determined for me to do this. I didn't know what to say. Besides my locket, it was the best gift I had ever been given. All I could do was smile.

She nodded and then pointed to the envelope. "Well, I better be on my way, I have to finish packing."

I knew then what she was doing. Because Nick was a cop, she was worried that he might have the place bugged. Although I didn't think it was, I wouldn't be surprised. Nothing he did could shock me now.

I hugged her tightly. "Thank you," I whispered in her ear as I breathed in her scent of spearmint. It was the last time I would see her.

She pulled away with a wink. "I have to go," she said, opening the door. She smiled as she let herself into her apartment.

As soon as the door was closed behind her, I got to work. My original plan was to flee to Canada and find a place once I arrived. This was better. I had an actual destination and now it was time.

Over the long months of planning, I had been secretly hiding my clothes and other personal items in a false bottom in the trunk of my car. Now that it was really time to execute the plan, I packed the few items of clothing that was left in my closet. Shoved my paper files in a suitcase and transferred the electronic ones from my laptop onto an external hard drive. Then I deleted everything. Once that was done I shoved the disk into the computer that held a virus and pushed download. I had found a hacker named Ziggy and paid an enormous amount of money to ruin my own laptop, but I couldn't take it with me for fear that Nick had a way to track it. He knew how important it was to me. All my books and ideas for future manuscripts were on it. I was more upset to leave that behind than I was to leave the man I was supposed to marry.

After I dressed and put my hair up in a ponytail, I took off my engagement ring and set it on the dining room table. Then with two suitcases and my purse, I left my apartment for my new life.

My first stop was the library, where I had been working on their public computers. I brought up my bank account and transferred the remaining money into an account I had set up for my niece and nephew. The rest of it was in cash and traveler's checks I planned to place in a new bank when I reached my destination. The next step was to toss the cell phone—I threw it into the garbage on the side of the street. Once inside my car I called my mom with my new disposable cell that was hidden in the glove compartment. "Hello," she answered.

"It's time." It was all I said, yet I knew she'd understand.

"Oh, sweetie, I love you so much."

My eyes burned with the threat of tears. "I love you too. Tell everyone I'll miss them." My voice shook with all the emotion in me.

"I will, Sweetie. Goodbye, and be careful."

"Bye, Mom." As I hung up, I could feel a tear threatening to fall. I fought it back. This was a good thing, I was finally free.

I drove for about two hours and then pulled into a deserted parking lot just outside of Wollesville. I parked alongside a blue Volkswagen. There was a guy leaning against it. He was tall, about thirty-five, with brown hair and wearing worn work boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt. He pushed away from the car as I turned off my ignition. "Are you Anna?" he asked, leaning in my window. His breath smelled of garlic.

I nodded, feeling nervous. "Yep. You Clarence?" Clarence and I met on the Internet, on an auto trading site. I had exchanged a few emails with him using the library's computer and a fake email account.

"That's me. Are you sure you want to do this?" He stepped away to admire his new vehicle. "Your Camaro is worth a lot more than my car."

I got out and started moving the suitcases from the trunk. All of my possessions were now reduced to five suitcases and two boxes full of stuff. "I don't want the car, you do. It's an even trade as far as I'm concerned." I piled everything onto the ground next to his car and stood up. "You got your papers?"

"Yep, right here."

He opened the trunk of the Volkswagen as I looked at his papers. Everything looked good, so I handed over the ownership of my Camaro.

He grinned as he stuffed the papers into his pocket. He glanced down at my belongings. "Need some help?"

"Sure, if you don't mind."

As he bent to pick up the biggest of the boxes, he noticed my arm—there was a bruise on it from where Nick grabbed me—and then his gaze moved to my neck. I thought the marks were covered, but apparently I was wrong. His eyes narrowed in concern. "You running from someone?"

I ignored his question and lifted the suitcases into his car. "You might want to get a paint job and new plates." I paused, looking down at his. "Are these the plates you were talking about?"

He nodded. "Yep, they won't lead back to you or me," he answered. "Your car isn't stolen, is it?"

I turned around as I was shoving cases into the backseat of his car. "Would I have the ownership if it was?"

He chuckled, digging his boot into the gravel. "I guess not."

After everything was transferred we exchanged keys and he took off down the deserted road with the first thing I bought with the money I made from Wendy's Wish.

My fingers hovered over the key that fit perfectly into the ignition. When the magnitude of what I had done suddenly overwhelmed me, I sunk back in the leather seat; thinking of my mother's slightly wrinkled face. At fifty-six, there were only a few lines around her eyes. Would I ever see her age, ever see each new wrinkle or age spot and worry about her health? Would I see Justin graduate college, or sit in a wooden pew wearing uncomfortable shoes while Haley walked down the aisle to her waiting groom?

Tears poured down my heated skin as I sobbed over the loss of each memory that would never be mine. I sat in the car and mourned for my former life as the hot sun baked in through the windows, creating droplets of sweat dripping down my face mixing with the tears. I sat in the empty parking lot until the sun dipped lower in the sky.

Sometime later, with my throat burning and tears drying, I thought of a time in the fifth grade when I decided to stop my piano lessons. My parents were disappointed, yet instead of yelling at me for wasting their money, they calmly told me that it was my decision, my life, and all they wanted was for me to be happy. So with that in mind, I sat up in the cushioned hot seat and turned the forgotten key. The engine purred to life. With one last swipe at my tears, I pulled onto the road, toward my new home and a life I hoped would bring me the happiness my parents wanted for me.

The End

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I hope you enjoyed Lost Inside, the first book in the Shimmer lake series. If you'd like to find out what happened to Abby turn the page for a preview of the second installment: Finding Abigail in the series available now at amazon http://www.amazon.com/Finding-Abigail-Christina-Smith-ebook/dp/B00ASDW31S/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1425404580&sr=1-2&keywords=finding+abigail

For help with domestic violence, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−SAFE(7233) or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

### Here is a preview of Finding Abigail, Book Two in the Shimmer Lake series:

Chapter One

Shimmer Lake

There were no regrets as I drove away from my former home and Nick, my ex-fiancé and abuser. With the approval to flee from my family who I would miss terribly, I was ecstatic as the car ate up the road ahead. Driving fast with the windows down and the stereo blaring—I felt free. The nice lady with the smooth voice on the GPS informed me that it would take five hours to get to my destination.

I stopped to eat at a diner that was located in a very small town called Star Creek. I pulled into the almost empty parking lot and went in. A bell jingled signaling my entrance as I stepped inside.

The air was stale, smelling of burnt coffee. There were only a few booths taken, a family consisting of a mom, dad, and two boys who were fighting over ketchup. An older couple occupied two stools at the counter feeding each other pie. The woman giggled as the man placed the fork into her mouth.

In the back booth I saw a guy sitting alone. He was wearing a faded denim jacket, his black hair spilling out under a red baseball cap. He saw me staring at him and nodded. I made my way over feeling uneasy. At the booth, I sat down and faced him. My hands lay flat on the Formica table, shaking slightly. The guy didn't seem to notice. He only watched my face curiously, his lips turning up at the corners. Up this close I noticed his skin was tanned and leathery, with lines creasing his face. He looked like he was used to working out in the sun. "You got my email," I began, pointing out the obvious.

He nodded his head. "I did. Kind of short notice, don't you think?" His forehead wrinkled even more.

"Last-minute decision, but you told me they were done."

He slumped into the booth, relaxing. "Yeah, I've had them ready for a week," he explained, taking out an envelope from inside his jacket and handing it to me. I looked inside and saw each of the papers I would need—driver's license, birth certificate, passport, and social security card—all with the name Anna Smith.

"Perfect." I reached into my purse and tossed him my envelope.

He opened it, sifting through the contents, his lips moving as he counted. "It was a pleasure doing business with you," he said with a small smile and a firm nod. With that he got up and walked out of the restaurant. Heads lifted as the door jingled his exit.

The waitress came over and took my order. After she left, I breathed a sigh of relief. The most important and unfortunately illegal parts of my escape plan were finished. I had been so nervous when I contacted that guy. I didn't even know his name. I was afraid he was a cop and this was a setup. I had found him through another writer who'd done research on fake IDs. The writer's name was Eric and I told him that I just wanted the contact info for an upcoming book. I had been worrying constantly about that part of the plan; it was giving me an upset stomach. I had started popping antacids like they were candy. I learned one thing through all of this though—I would not make a good criminal. I'd have an ulcer in no time.

When my sandwich arrived, I ate quickly, worried that Nick was on the road looking for me. Even though I had a different car I just wanted to get to the cottage and settle in so I could stop thinking that every cop car that passed me was going to pull me over. I definitely didn't want a repeat of the last time I'd tried to leave. I had just found out what kind of man Nick truly was when he beat and raped me the night before. I went to the police station to get help, but unfortunately he worked there and his captain wouldn't help me. I decided to leave for a few weeks to think things over. That didn't work out quite how I wanted and Nick found me. I vowed that if I ran again, I would make a better plan. Now I was finally falling through with that and so far so good. There was no sign of Nick.

Back on the road, the GPS lady let me know that it would take two more hours to get to Shimmer Lake. I had never even heard of the town before so I guessed it must be small. That was a good thing. If I hadn't heard of it, then Nick probably wouldn't think to look there.

As I drove, civilization seemed to slip away as farmlands and rural towns started to take over. It was odd; I had always been a city girl, yet as the scenery changed to trees and open fields, I felt more at peace. Like nothing could hurt me in a place this beautiful and tranquil.

My first glimpse of Shimmer Lake was a swamp, cattails, weeds, and I'm guessing frogs. Not pretty, but once you got past the swamp, the town was cute yet very small. It was basically a road. There were a few restaurants and stores on one side of the street. The other held a bank, a few businesses, a church, and an elementary school. The buildings were not cramped all together, they were stretched along the highway, but that was all I could see. There were side streets branching off the main road; however, I was not about to explore. I wanted to get to my destination and I was afraid that if I went sightseeing, I'd get lost, prolonging my journey even further.

It wasn't until I drove past the businesses and was heading out of Shimmer Lake that I saw the sign for Bayview Road. I turned onto it, excited about nearly reaching my destination. The closer I got, the more I felt a peace. It had been awhile since I felt that way; never worrying if I would be hit in the face because I didn't wash Nick's uniform or kicked in the gut when I forgot to give him a message from work. I had only known him a year and was abused for six of those months, yet it was hard to remember a time when I wasn't miserable. The thrill of being alone and safe was overwhelming. I stepped on the gas, eager to get to my paradise.

When I pulled up to the cottage I was pleasantly surprised; it was so Sylvia. The one-story stone cottage was nestled under a large willow, its branches hanging almost to the roof as if protecting the cottage and its contents from the outside world. The only close neighbor was a house to the right. It was also one level, but this one had white siding and a wraparound porch. There were no cars in the driveway, which hopefully meant it was just used for the summer. I could use some privacy for a few months until I got settled into my new life.

I parked in the driveway next to the side door. Getting out of the car, I let myself in. Inside was just as cozy as the outside. It was one large room, only a counter island separating the kitchen and living room. The kitchen must have been renovated recently. The appliances and cherry cabinets were still shining and I couldn't see any scratches on the marble counter tops. The living room was situated around a stone fireplace, with a comfy-looking gray sofa and matching chairs. A charming woven rug lay in the center on the wood floor. There were three bedrooms and a small bathroom. I was so grateful to Sylvia, my former neighbor for lending me her lake house. I only wished there was a way I could thank her, but I knew contacting her would be a mistake.

The only thing in the cottage that wasn't perfect was the smell. It must have been closed up for a while, because it stunk terribly of must. As I wandered through each room opening windows, reality set in, I was FREE! With a new hope for my future I went out to the car to get my belongings and unpack.

A few hours later I was setting up my office in one of the spare rooms. There was a desk under the window that I placed my new laptop on. I had purchased it a few weeks ago and hid it in my car. The breeze blew in through the open window, along with the sound of the waves washing up against the shore. The view was beautiful; from this angle I could see the dock, the water and a house across the lake. I could picture myself sitting here writing and looking out the window. I hadn't written in months, but I already felt inspired.

When everything was unpacked and it felt like home, I realized it was past dinner. I was starving. This was the perfect time to check out the grocery store.

The store was called Butler Foods. It was small, not nearly as big as I was used to, but that didn't matter. I'd be buying mostly packaged food anyway since I didn't really enjoy cooking. I only started, to avoid beatings from Nick. I took my time wandering around the store, enjoying the small-town feel. I noticed that the people here seemed to visit with each other more than actually shopping.

I was standing in the produce department picking up some grapes when I overheard a conversation coming from beside me. Two women stood near the strawberries. "Well, I heard he went to his ex's wedding. Can you believe that?" She had short brown hair and was wearing jeans and a cute suede jacket.

The other woman's platinum hair was teased a little too high to be fashionable. She leaned in closer to her friend as if she had a secret. "Well, I don't know why he doesn't move on already. There are plenty of girls around here that would take him in an instant, myself included."

I felt like I was intruding in on the conversation so I moved over to the lettuce, hoping that I could still hear yet not look obvious doing it. I wasn't used to small towns and wanted to learn as much as I could.

"Ignore those gossip mongers, not everyone in town is like that."

The voice came from behind me. I turned around to see a woman with flaming red hair that fell to her shoulders, green eyes, and a warm smile. Her cart was heaping with juice boxes, snack cakes, and cookies. She must have kids waiting at home.

I glanced around, making sure she was actually speaking to me. No one was there. "Like what?" I asked.

She reached beside me and picked up a cucumber. "Busybodies. Of course there are a few, but most of us mind our own. Are you visiting someone or are you new in town?"

I moved to the side to get out of her way. "Oh, I'm renting a cottage for a few months to see if I like it, then I may make my stay permanent. I'm looking to relocate."

She leaned against the potato display. "Oh yeah? From where?"

The women that I had been listening to started toward us. The blond scowled at my companion as they walked passed us. "Chicago," I lied.

"Wow, this is sure a change. Where are you staying?" She noticed the girl and smiled mischievously. When the women were gone and we could only see their backs, she stuck her tongue out at the blond. It was obvious that there was no love between the two.

I raised a brow at her in question, but she didn't acknowledge what had just happened. "Twenty twelve Bayview Road," I answered hesitantly.

With the women forgotten, she leaned forward on the handle of her cart. "The one on the corner, beside the white house?"

"Yes."

"That's Sylvia Newman's cottage, do you know her?"

"No. I found her on the Internet, she rented me the cottage." I was making it up as I went. I hadn't planned what to say, but I knew it was best not to tie myself to Sylvia. I wanted to keep her safe so distancing myself from her felt like the best way.

She glanced at her watch. "Well, I should be getting home. The name's Kathy by the way."

"Ab-Anna. Nice to meet you." I reached out to shake her hand.

She raised her brow suspiciously. "Abanna?"

I took a deep breath. "It's Anna." She must have known I was lying. I wasn't good at it and I was sure she was about to call me on it.

To my surprise, she grinned, lighting her already bright green eyes. "It's very nice to meet you, Anna. We don't get many new faces around here." She waved as she pushed her cart up to the cashier. "See you around," she called over her shoulder.

Back at the cottage I made myself a grilled cheese and a tossed salad. I spent the night looking at the photos on the wall. They were of Sylvia and her husband when they were younger. There were pictures of what looked like them building the cottage. Then later with their four children and grandchildren. I thought I remembered that she once told me she had fourteen.

The air was a little chilly so I stayed inside with a glass of wine gazing out at the view from the large bay window. A part of me felt relaxed and I was thankful for it, yet there was some anxiety deep inside, thinking about Nick getting off work and going home to find me gone. Would I be awoken in the night with him standing over me? I knew this feeling was ridiculous. I had covered my tracks well, yet I couldn't silence the feeling of fear that my newfound freedom was at risk.

Chapter Two

The Neighbor

During my first week, I stayed close to home. I was enjoying my freedom, yet I couldn't help take precautions around the cottage. Nick was forever in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that I was never safe. Once the musty air was gone, I closed and locked the windows and doors, placing several air fresheners around the cottage. If I went outside, lounging in the yard, I found myself glancing around, making sure I was truly alone.

Despite my paranoia, I tried to be happy in my new life. I explored the cottage and on warm days I ventured outside. On the second day in my new home, I barbequed a chicken on the grill. Living in an apartment in the city, barbequing was practically unheard of. And despite my lack of experience, I didn't do too bad of a job. The skin was a little burnt, but the meat inside was juicy and tender.

One morning, I found myself wandering down the shoreline, looking at all the houses that lined the lake. I carried my sandals and walked barefoot, letting the warm sand sift through my toes. I counted five empty cottages, besides the white one next to mine.

It wasn't until I walked about a mile and a half that I saw any signs of life on this side of the lake. A large house sat up on a hill. The sounds of a child's laughter and a dog barking floated out of the windows and down to the beach to where I stood. My heart ached. The sounds reminded me of what I had left behind and I almost kept moving toward it, instead I turned around and started back, not ready to introduce myself. I wanted to keep a distance from the townsfolk, just in case Nick found me. I couldn't help the feeling that anyone I had contact with was also in danger.

It wasn't until my fifth day that I started to relax. If he hadn't found me yet, odds were, I was safe—for now. I couldn't fool myself into thinking that he would give up, but I knew I had to stop worrying and try to get back some of my life. That meant I needed to begin working again. I had put it off for so long, I thought it would be difficult to get back into the flow of writing. But as soon as I opened the file to Sammy's Big Adventure, I was sucked back in. I sat in front of the open window with the breeze gently blowing in. I could feel the fresh air on my cheeks as the words poured out. I was there for three straight hours before I took a break to eat. And when I stopped for the day, I couldn't wait to start again tomorrow.

Saturday evening, exactly a week after I arrived, I was restless and bored. I tried to write, but nothing would come out. Watching TV wasn't working and the book I was reading did not hold my interest. I read the same sentence three times before I put it down and went outside.

I strolled down to the dock and stood quietly watching the lake. It was so peaceful. I became mesmerized by the glowing orange reflection the sun cast upon the water as it set for the day. My chest ached at the thought of another day without my family, I hadn't seen them in a week and I felt so lonely. Would Justin look different the next time I saw him? Would he have grown, would I recognize him? Would I miss Haley's first day of school? Not that I saw my family that often when I lived near them, yet the option was there. I hated Nick even more for taking them away from me.

I sat down so I could listen to the noises of the lake. It was so quiet here. The bubbling sounds the fish made when they came to the surface to eat the bugs floating on the water echoed through the quiet. I heard faint laughter from a cottage in the distance as people went for an evening swim. The weather had been warm the last few days, but I didn't think it was sufficient enough to heat the water for a swim. The hum of a motorboat was the latest sound I heard. I could just make out a white fisherman's hat in a boat across the lake.

The wooden planks of the dock below me were not the most comfortable place to sit, but since it was my only option, I made do. I made a mental note to make a trip to the hardware store to buy a lawn chair so I could sit out here every night to enjoy the view and listen to the sounds. It was so calming. I realized that I was no longer restless.

I kicked off my sandals, tossing them beside me and dipped my feet into the water. Ahh...it was warmer than I thought it would be. For a second I was tempted to go skinny-dipping, something that in my twenty-five years I had never done. It was such a beautiful and peaceful night I almost gave in, yet I didn't let myself get carried away. This was me, the girl that wore a towel around her apartment even when I lived alone.

A noise brought my attention back from my daydream to a fish jumping. I watched the water ripple as the breeze blew a lock of hair into my eyes. I pushed it away and leaned back on the dock, gazing up at the sky. Twilight was just settling in and the horizon was turning a pinkish-purple color. The air smelled crisp with water, only the hint of grass mixed in. I had never seen such a beautiful scene in my life. To watch this every night before I went to bed was a blessing I never expected. I wished I could share it with my family. But knowing they were safe, and that I was safe, made solitude bearable.

My body went rigid at the sound of light footsteps on the grass behind me. My first thought was that he had found me. I knew this day would come sooner or later, although I had hoped for later. But he was a fool if he thought I would go easily. I stood up, slipped my shoes back on, but didn't turn around. It might have been the fear that gave me the courage, but I had a plan and I needed him closer. My heart raced as I waited.

The footsteps grew louder as he walked onto the dock. When I was sure he was close enough, I swung around and punched him as hard as I could in the face. I felt my knuckles dig into his stubbled chin. When I pulled my stinging fist back, I took off toward the house before he could grab me. This wasn't over. I had a taste of freedom and I wasn't giving it up.

"What the hell was that for? Where are you going, are you crazy?" The deep voice behind me wasn't Nick's, but that didn't mean anything, he could have sent someone after me.

I was almost to the cottage, about to get the spare car keys out of the barbeque, when I noticed a light from the corner of my eye. I spun in the direction of my neighbor's house. The lights were on and there was a yellow Jeep in the driveway. Oh shit, I just coldcocked my neighbor. That's a good way to get to know them.

I slowly turned toward the lake and saw a tall man with thick, wavy, blond hair walking toward me, rubbing his jaw. "I am so sorry, I thought you were someone else," I stammered, cradling my now sore hand and making no move toward him. I couldn't help the feeling that I was still in danger and resisted the urge to look around, making sure that we were alone. It was only a few minutes ago that I was sure Nick had found me and now that I realized my mistake it was hard to force down the fear. Although, embarrassment was slowly taking over. I had just punched a stranger. I had never struck another human being in my life—well, besides my sister, but we were kids, that was different. My throbbing knuckles only added to the humiliation.

When the man stood a few feet in front of me, he stopped, his lips turning up at the edges, making his blue eyes sparkle. He looked me over and his smile widened. "That's one hell of a right hook you got there, lady."

"I said I was sorry, you shouldn't have snuck up on me." I was starting to feel uneasy, alone with a man in a deserted area. I fought the urge to step back.

His eyes widened, the smile fading. "Snuck up?" He gestured toward the dock where I had been sitting. "I yelled hello when I got out of my car, then I yelled again as I was walking toward you."

"You did? I was so mesmerized by the evening I guess I didn't hear you. I'm sorry," I repeated dumbly. My cheeks heated. It was bad enough that I had just punched him, now I kept apologizing and babbling like an idiot.

He made no move, just stood looking at me curiously, his eyes alight with amusement. "Who are you anyway and what are you doing in my grandmother's cottage?"

"Your grandmother?" I gasped, vaguely remembering her mentioning a grandson. "Are you Sylvia Newman's grandson?"

"Yes, I bought my house from her five years ago. She owns this one." He gestured to my cottage. "And several down the way." He pointed to the right of his house. He must be referring to the empty cottages I had seen on my walk down the beach. "The others are rentals, but she keeps this one for friends and family. She must think very highly of you to let you stay here. This cottage is her favorite; it's where she and my grandfather first lived after they married."

That made what she had done for me matter so much more. How I would ever thank her? "I didn't think anyone lived there," I said, nodding towards his house, trying to avoid his question. "I've been here a week and never saw anyone."

"I just got back from a wedding in Philadelphia. Didn't my grandmother tell you I lived next door?"

How was I supposed to tell him we hadn't even spoken of the house I was staying in, let alone the neighbors? "No, she never mentioned you." I didn't like the direction our conversation was headed. There were too many things I didn't want anyone to know.

"That's strange; my mother didn't tell me you were coming. It's my job to take care of the renters. And as far as I know, we don't have anyone scheduled for another month." He paused, folding his arms in front of him as he narrowed his eyes. "I find it odd that you're staying in her favorite house, one that's reserved for family and friends and no one told me about it. How do you know my grandmother anyway?"

My mind went blank. His questions were making me uneasy. I couldn't tell him that we met on the Internet, like I had Kathy. After he explained how Sylvia felt about the cottage, he would never believe that she rented it to me over an email. All I knew was that I needed to get away from him. He asked too many questions and he was a man, after the last few months I had suffered, they couldn't be trusted. "My personal life does not concern you. And I would appreciate it if you would mind your own business." Since I couldn't think of anything else to say to get rid of him, I stormed into the cottage.

Once inside, I ran to the window to make sure he left. He stood where I had left him, looking dazed. He took a few steps toward my door, hesitated, then turned around and disapeared into his house.

I was relieved for now. I needed to think better on my feet. When he asked me questions I didn't want to answer, I should have thought of a lie instead of telling him to mind his own business. That would only pique his curiosity. I couldn't tell him who I was, but now I was worried that he would call his mother and ask about who was staying at her cottage. That might make her go to her Sylvia's and Nick would overhear. I didn't know what to do.

I wandered around the cottage, double-checking the locks. There was a strange man right next door and the trickle of fear that ran up my spine told me that my newly found freedom was over. I couldn't help but worry over this new development, but since there was nothing I could do to change it, I grabbed a bottle of wine with my good hand and turned on some music. Then I sat on the window seat in front of the large bay window, looking out over the water. After a few glasses, I undressed and had a shower. The hot water spraying over me seeped into my skin and helped me relax. Was this ever going to get easier? If it wasn't the constant worry that Nick would somehow find me, it was my newfound fear of all things male. Not to mention the fact that this new male was filled with questions I couldn't answer.

When I finished my shower and toweled off, I threw on some underwear and a white tank top and went to bed. I would figure everything out another day.

The annoying sound of knocking pulled me out of my well-deserved sleep. Stumbling out of bed, I ran to the door; my only thought was to make the banging stop. "What!" I growled, yanking the door open and cringed with pain. My hand was red and swollen.

My new neighbor, who looked wide awake and fresh at this ungodly hour, stood on the pavement, leaning against the doorjamb.

He smiled. "Well, aren't you all sunshine and rainbows in the morning," he observed, pushing his way into the kitchen. He was carrying what looked like coffee, doughnuts and a newspaper. Placing them on the counter, he turned around, flashing an annoyingly arrogant grin. Even with my mind still foggy with sleep, I could smell the delicious scent of the coffee. It almost made me drool.

"Nice hair," he remarked, his gaze slowly traveling down. I suddenly remembered what I was wearing. "Do you always answer the door in your underwear?" His brows lifted, his eyes sparkling with laughter—again.

"Oh God," I murmured, trying to cover myself, yanking at the hem of my tank, which I now worried was see-through. "I was sleeping, what are you doing here so early?"

"It's nine, that's not early around here. And if you don't go put something on, I'm going to strip down to my underwear." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm feeling really overdressed."

Feeling frightened and embarrassed, I rushed to the bedroom to fetch a hoodie and a pair of cotton shorts. I needed to get him out of the cottage. He made me jumpy. I was heading back out when I noticed my hair in the gilded mirror above the bed. It was somehow stuck up on one side, leaving part of my scalp showing. The other was matted to the side of my head. It looked like I was wearing a bad toupee. I brushed it quickly, throwing it into a ponytail and then headed back out to see why he was invading my morning.

"What do you want?" I growled again, returning to the kitchen. I stood with my hands on my hips, hoping for a look of impatience instead of what I really felt—fear. The only man I had been alone with for months was Nick. Besides the uneasiness I felt, I was still embarrassed of the way we had met and now I had the incident in my underwear and bad hair to add to my humiliation.

He looked comfortable, sitting at the table by the window, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. He glanced up and smiled. "That's not very neighborly of you. I just came over to offer you coffee and doughnuts and this is the gratitude I get?" His face was relaxed, a cocky smile lighting up his eyes. I was sure he was joking except I couldn't help but flinch at his words. If Nick had said them, I'd end up with bruises. I took the extra coffee and swallowed a big sip, letting the caffeine do its job, hoping to push away my dark thoughts. I had to stop comparing this guy to Nick. All men were not like him. I knew that. Jason was one of my best friends and he would never hurt anyone.

Feeling more awake after the shot of caffeine, I sat down across from him, taking a doughnut out of the box. "Okay then. What can I do for you on this lovely morning?" I asked, sweetness dripping from the sarcasm. I forced myself to relax. Sylvia wouldn't have sent me here if her grandson wasn't safe.

"I wanted to tell you that I talked to my grandmother last night."

Oh shit. I couldn't help but gulp, feeling my eyes go wide. The tiny spark of fear turned to apprehension. "You called her at home?" I moved my hands to my lap to hide the tremors.

"No, she was at my mom's," he explained, folding the paper closed and laying it onto the table.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was afraid she went home early. It would be best for everyone if she kept a safe distance from Nick.

"Why do you sound worried that she'd be at home?"

I stuffed a huge bite of fritter in my mouth; my hand was no longer shaking. "I'm not worried," I mumbled with my mouth full. "What did your grandmother say?" I asked after I swallowed.

"She told me to be nice to you and protect you. When I asked her why, she clammed up and handed the phone to my mother, who didn't know anything." He stared at me waiting for me to react. When I didn't, he added, "Why do you need protection?"

"I don't. You know Sylvia, she's a worrier." His constant questioning was making me anxious. How was I supposed get him to stop pestering me? The incessant fear knotted in my chest and took hold.

He drummed his finger on the table impatiently. "I've never known her to be secretive or protective before. But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Really? Well then, why, when I asked my grandmother your name, she told me to ask you? Does she not know it?"

She probably wasn't sure if I would change it or not. Of course I was very relieved, since I had. Ignoring the question about Sylvia, I answered him. "It's Anna Smith. What's yours?"

"Noah Bradley."

I stood up and began to busy myself, emptying the dishwasher I had turned on last night. "So tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

"You're avoiding the subject." I chose not to answer as I placed the silverware into the drawer. "Fine, I'll play along, but you should know I'll find out what's going on. Anyway, to answer your question, I'm a carpenter."

His threat to figure me out hung in the air and I resisted the urge to gulp. The constant feeling of fear hummed inside me. With the thought of keeping the subject away from my secret, I said, "Really? I was thinking of getting some shelves made for my work."

Leaning back in the chair with his cup in his hand, he asked, "What do you do?"

I moved back over to the table and sat down. "I'm a writer."

"That's cool."

I smiled and nodded, acknowledging his comment. Then I decided it was time for him to go. His close proximity was giving me the jitters. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Noah, even though you woke me up so early."

He raised an eyebrow over the cup he was taking a drink out of. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No." My voice shook and I couldn't look him in the eye.

His smile disappeared, his eyes flashed with a look of concern. "Okay." He stood up, gathered his paper and turned around. "If you need anything and I mean anything, I'm right next door." His face turned to a look I could only describe as compassion. It was almost like he knew my secret and felt sorry for me. But that couldn't be, he admitted that he wanted to find it out.

###  Acknowledgments

As with all my books, I couldn't have done it alone. This book in particular was difficult to write and would not have been possible without help from a certain woman that went over the novel many times, giving me insights on what it was like for an abused woman. Having been one herself she knew what she was talking about. I cannot express how thankful I am.

I'd also like to thank Ashley Stoyanoff, author of the Souls Mark series, for her pre-reading and editing.

And to my sister-in-law Kathy for all her help.

I also have to thank my sisters and mother for listening to me vent over how difficult this one was, and not getting annoyed with me. I really appreciate your support.

My husband Brad, and kids, Josh and Megan, for supporting me and understanding that I needed to focus on the book.

To Ronnell D Porter for doing the cover, and Christine LePorte, for the editing.

### About the Author

Christina Smith grew up in Kingston Ontario, Canada and after getting married, moved to a small rural town in the country. She lives there with her husband, Brad, two kids, Josh and Megan and their dog, Bailey. Even though the house is peaceful, surrounded by nature and the occasional deer, she's still a city girl at heart. She misses civilization and visits with her mother and two sisters.

She spends a lot of free time writing and has numerous ideas for future novels for both young adult and adult fiction.

Catch up with Christina for more information about her books on:

Visit Christina's website http://christinasmithauthor.com/ for more information about her books.

Twitter @CSmithbooks

Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/christina.smith.7161953 or Christina Smith-Author

