The Photograph
: Chapter Eleven

Aelin

Gabe… Please.

I stare at the door and tighten my towel around me while tears pool behind my eyes. I just needed his strong arms around me for a little while. I shut my eyes and sigh. I’ll call Em tomorrow.Yes, that’s what I’ll do.I turn all the lights off and trudge to my bedroom. Once under my duvet, I grab my second pillow and curl around it.

It’s over, it’s finally over. I went to slay the monster and won.

I need my Cara.My breath hitches and I curl deeper around the cushion while my throat clogs with tears that wet my pillow until I fall into a deep sleep.

****

Three days later, I slap my hand on the obnoxious alarm clock and flip on my back to stare at my ceiling. I sit up and spread my arms in a long stretch. I check my cell and sigh. Gabe hasn’t responded to my texts.

In the first two texts I asked him when he wanted the tour of Holloway, the third, if he wanted to have dinner. When I received a message from my bank advising me of a deposit—the payment for Holloway House—I called him but didn’t leave a message on his voicemail.

Why won’t he talk to me?In hindsight, it’s probably best he didn’t stay with me the other night. He would have asked where I was and I would have had to explain. But…

Nope. I won’t think about that today.My next project starts in a week, so today’s mine and Emma’s day. I hop out of bed and get ready.

Two hours later, seated in the armchair in the front room, I scroll down my tablet’s screen. It’s 9:55 AM. Em should be here in… When the doorbell chimes. I leap to the door and pull her to the living room with me.

She giggles as she sits down on the couch. “Hello to you, too, babe.”

Her hand in mine, I shift to face her and grin. “Em, you’ve been talking about the software architecture course in New York, so I’ve registered you and paid for the course. You’re starting in six weeks.” Her eyes grow huge while she shakes her head, so I squeeze her hand. “Em, I love you and I loved having you here. Holloway’s finished and I could never have done any of this without you. This is the least you deserve for staying by my side for all these years. As my friend and my partner. And did I mention that I love you?”

Emma’s breath hitches, and when she replaces her voice, she touches her forehead to mine. “I love you, Ael. Thank you. I’ll make you proud.”

My heart breaks open as I frame my best friend’s flushed, wet face. “I’m already proud, sweetie.” We hang on to each other for a little longer before I lean back and take a deep breath.Now, to the hard part.“So, today’s officially your last day atAelin Thorne Designs.”

She sniffles. “I can stay until—”

I hold her tight. “No, you need to organize Sam and Mindy as well as taking care of yourself.”

We grin at each other for a long time. I get on my feet and take Em with me. Smiling big to stop my chin from quivering. “Go, sweetie.”

After she leaves, I make myself a pot of steaming tea and a full plate of cookies I set on the coffee table next to my silent cell—still nothing from Gabe—and settle in the sofa of our small library.

As I open the book I’ve been trying to read for ages, my cell vibrates. I snatch my phone. No caller ID.

“Hello, this is Aelin Thorne.”

A woman’s excited voice pours out in my ear. “Ms. Thorne? First, I’d like to offer you my congratulations. My name’s Delia Jones. I’m an image consultant for the Future of Couture. Mr. Matthews has requested we get in touch with you to set you up with our latest collections of—”

I sit up and put her on speaker. “Um, Delia? I’m a little confused.”

Her voice pitches even higher. “Mr. Matthews has asked us to organize a designer wardrobe for you. We work with most designers’ houses…”

What?

But before I can wedge a single word, Delia continues. “I’ll personally take care of your account…” The short silence she lets hover, informs me of the privilege she bestowed upon me. The woman keeps talking. “…it’d be great if we could make an appointment today for us to take your measurements and help you choose the clothes that meet your style. And—”

I stare at the phone and clear my throat. “Delia, Gabe Matthews asked you to do this?”

The woman chuckles and lowers her voice. “Indeed, Mr. Matthews has been very generous, and…”

Gabe opened a designer clothing account for me?Heat swirls in my stomach, and I can’t help the small grunt erupting from my throat.

“Ms. Thorne?”

Why is the woman still talking?

I perch back on the sofa. “I’m sorry Delia, I was a little—”

“Oh, I understand! This is such an amazing opportunity. I would like to send you a couple of complimentary dresses from the latest collections as a thank you for your patronage. However, if there is a desig—”

“Delia, thank you, but I have to go now.”

I disconnect the call and dial Gabe’s number while I pace my rug.What’s wrong with that man? He ignores my texts for days then after I told him how freaking weird it is that he buys me clothes, he… Grrr.

When it goes straight to voicemail—four times—I call Ann’s office.

“G&M Investments, Ann’s speaking.”

I lean into my cell. “Ann. It’s Aelin. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Aelin. Thank you. How are you?”

Beside insulted and furious?“I’m all right, thank you. Is Cynthia back to the Bahamas?”

Ann chuckles. “Oh, no, she’s going to stay put for a while.”

The glee in Ann’s voice draws out my smile. “Well, fire would do that to a person.” I breathe deeply. “Ann, I need your help. I’m trying to get in touch with Gabe and I keep getting his voicemail. What’s the best time to reach him?”

The line goes silent for a few seconds and my heart speeds up.Did something happen to him?“Ann? Is Gabe all right?”

The way she clears her throat propels my heart to the bottom of my stomach, and I hold my breath.

“Gabe’s fine. He’s away and will be back on the nineteenth.”

I uncurl my fist on my chest and exhale slowly. Nine days. “Oh, the day before his birthday. Thank you, Ann, I’ll try him then.” Nestling back in the couch, I ask, “When are we going to try the new Japanese place?”

Ann’s voice is once again smiling. “Cynthia and I are going tomorrow. Come with us.”

Nestled deep in the sofa, I nod. “I would love to, but I don’t want to … encroach on your date.”

I smile at Ann’s chuckle. “You’re not, and Cynthia wants to meet you. I’ll send you the details and will see you tomorrow, Aelin.”

We disconnect. I like Ann. We’re not friends yet, but I’m trying to change that. When I met her on my way out of the penthouse a few weeks ago, we talked about this new Japanese restaurant. I also keep her updated of the progress on Holloway House regularly and on the last day of the work, I sent her a video tour of the house.

Nine days before his birthday.I know exactly what I’ll get him. I grab my tea and cookies and spend the rest of the day in my studio making Gabe’s birthday gift.

****

Standing at the reception of Hanzo restaurant, I grin at Ann’s waving hand.

“My friends are here,” I say to the host who bows slightly before asking me to follow him. As the slim man dressed in a red and gold tunic and fluid back pants leads me to our table, I take in the décor. The warm caramel wooden floor, the silver tree pot plant with slim trunked cherry trees that divides the airy restaurant into square sections. I admire the rectangle benches where couples and foursomes of friends and families gather around bamboo tables.

When I get to the table, I clutch my bag a little tighter and take a deep breath as I smile a little too wide at the two women. “Hi.”

Ann stands up to hug me. “Hello, Aelin.” With her hand on my arm, she twists toward the woman who’s remained seated. “This is Cynthia, my wife.”

I turn toward a woman with striking green eyes and blond dreadlocks held in a high ponytail who’s wearing a black pinstripe vest. She studies me for long seconds as I sit across from her and leans in over the glossy table.

“So, you’re Aelin.”

After setting my purse on the table, I smile at her. “I am, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her fingers intertwine with her wife’s. “Annie told me you were a good friend to her when the fire broke out, thank you.”

My face warms up and I flash my eyes to Ann’s grin. “My pleasure, really.”

Cynthia leans back and tilts her head to the side while giving me the once over. “Does this

mean we’re buying you dinner?”

I giggle. “No, but my first two cocktails are definitely on you.”

Cynthia gawks at me before a small chuckle escapes her glossy lips. She winks and kisses Ann’s hand. “You were right, Annie, I like her.”

We dine on the sublime food and sake, talk about life on an island, and make a pro and

con list about the city versus island lifestyle. We replace out we have similar tastes in music and promise to go to the next Shadowgraphs concert when they’re in town.

Too quickly, it’s time for us to leave, but unwilling to go our separate ways just yet, we stop in a bar for a couple of drinks that Cynthia pays for.

Around midnight, I say my goodbyes, promising to catch up soon for the opening of a

gallery the next month. I hug them tightly and climb into the car I’ve ordered. Once home, I leave Cara a voicemail, remove my make up, and fall into bed.

****

I’m in my studio finishing the sketches for the two new rooms I’ll surprise Vania and the Other Rainbow people with when I receive a text from Gabe.

Call me.

He’s back.I grin and dial his number.

“Matthews”

Warmth unfurls in my belly at the sound of his voice. “Gabe, hi, it’s Aelin.”

Silence for two beats. I press the phone harder to my ear. “Hello, Gabe, are you there?”

More static and bubbles of silence. “Yes. Can you meet me at the penthouse tonight?”

A delightful shiver runs down my back. “I would love to—what time do you want me there?”

Another pocket of dead air. “Gabe? What time?”

“The connection’s shit. I land around 6:30 PM. So come by 8:00 PM.”

“Okay. I miss—”

When the call is disconnected, I stroll back to the house while my body tingles all over at the promise of his kisses.

I have the whole day to get ready, so I go to my hairdresser, Damian, and make him happy when I tell him I’m ready for shorter layers. A massage, shower, and mani-pedi later, I pull out the Chanel dress Gabe gave me with the bangle and pair them with gold hoops and sky-high sandals.

Twirling in front of the stand-up mirror in my bedroom, my heart quickens.I’m ready for you, Gabe Matthews.

Every delicious inch of him. Several times.

When his driver rings the bell, I float to the door I open with a grin. My new haircut has hair falling around my face in sensual waves as the shorter length at the front emphasizes my eyes and the dress fits perfectly since I’ve gained a few pounds. Jason gives me a quick once-over before he clears his throat and takes the large plastic bag from my hand to place it carefully in the trunk of the car before I slip on the back seat.

At the penthouse, my heart flutters as I hide my gifts for him in the coat closet in the hallway of the office side and cross over. I’ll give them to him after midnight when we’re hopefully both naked. Shivering at the thought of Gabe’s mouth and hands on me, I touch the base of my throat then ease my head through the doorjamb of his apartment.

“Hello?”

I step further into the living room and volte-face.He’s here.

In his blue faded jeans and light brown sweater, he’s gorgeous.

My heart bursting, I leap into his arms and throw my arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you.”

When I reach up for his lips, he slants his head back while his body hardens. He’s not holding me.

A cold shudder courses through meandI touch his chin. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

His jaw is clenched tight, and his eyes are … glacial. Dread sends my heartbeats hurtling against my ribs while my hand falls by my side. “Ga—?”

Already pivoting away, he snaps. “Come. We need to talk.”

I exhale before I follow him out to his office where Smithson stands in a corner behind the desk with his head bent down.Is this about Holloway?

Edging closer, I clear my throat and force a smile. “Good evening, Tim.”

The little man mumbles his reply while Gabe strides next to him behind his desk. “Step outside, Smithson.”

Tim nearly runs out of the door, and I raise my gaze to Gabe who looks at me with so much icy rage, a chill seizes my spine.

He flicks his fingers toward the chair across his desk. “Sit down, Aelin.”

“Gab—” He narrows his impenetrable eyes on me, and I straighten my back. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

My chest constricts as he pulls a binder from a drawer and slides across his desk toward me. I flip it open and …what?My heartbeat, already fast stops before racing into a gallop. I flash my eyes at him and sift through the pages with shaking hands. It’s a file on me. Everything’s in there, from my date of birth to my credit score. There’s even a picture of me coming back from the market. But nothing about Leslieville, nor Cara.Dear God, what is this?I close the yellow file—my favorite color—and steady my fingertips on the cold cover.

With his legs braced apart, his hands in his pockets, and his gaze burning with anger, Gabe’s presence fills the room to the brim. I fasten my hand tighter around my clutch, flick my hair back, and lock my eyes onto his.

“Why do you have a file on me?”

His lip curls in … disgust?

“I wanted to know what your price was.” He scoffs and raises a brow. “Turns out you’re pretty cheap.”

My throat is clogged so tight, I’m suffocating, but Gabe is not done. “Didn’t take much to get you under me.”

When he pans his gaze over me, I lock every one of my muscles.Please, don’t do that.

“A necklace and a dress you lectured me about but are wearing now.”

For your birthday.I finally replace my voice. “Gabe, I didn’t ask for those. You—”

His smile is cruel. “No, you didn’t have to, but this is how the game is played, isn’t it? I pay, and you do your little dance.”

My what?I fist my fingers around my clutch. “Gabe, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

His dark gaze fastens on mine, and I hold my breath. “Because you fucked with the wrong man.”

I want to scream and yet my voice is barely above a whisper. “Gabe, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

When he rounds the desk and advances toward me, I instinctively step back. “Gabe,

wh—?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to study me and cocks a brow. “I’m curious. Does that usually work with the other poor schmucks you’re conning?”

My God, he’s not making any sense.“Conning? Does what work?”

The bewilderment must be written on my face because he edges closer, but this time, I stand my ground.

He stares at my mouth. “Sweetheart, you’re too good with a cock, so fucking drop the innocent act.” He leans in. “I would have paid a lot more for a mouth like yours.”

Heat floods my face, and I curl my fingers into fists. When he gets closer, I step back again, so we’re both standing in the middle of his cold office.

Tears press behind my eyes. “Gabe, you were my first—”

He gets to me so fast, I freeze. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is that how you’re going to play this? You’re a fucking virgin?”

I must have nodded because his expression turns scarier. He laughs but the sound is ugly.

“You must think I’m a fucking idiot. How exactly do you explain there was no blood on the condom?” He leans in further and my heart shatters at his expression. “Sweetheart, your pussy’s tight but not that tight. You’re no virgin. Stop lying to me or this will get real ugly.”

Because it’s not already?I won’t cry and I won’t be made into this again, even by Gabe. Bile churns in my stomach and I swallow hard to stave off my rising nausea.

He stalks behind his desk then slides a document toward me. “I want you to sign this, take the money, and leave this city.”

I’ve heard a version of those words before, but tonight, they shred a part of myself it took me years to build. And I still have no idea why. I don’t know how but my wooden legs manage to take me across to the desk, and I stare at the neon post-it flags on the document.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re acting like this or am I supposed to know what this is about?”

He pulls something out of his wallet and hands it to me. “I’m talking about this.”

I hate that my hand is shaking when I clutch the small square piece of paper.Oh.It’s an old picture of me, Cara, and Mitch, Cara’s ex. I look at the picture, back at him and back at the picture again.

We were working in a dive bar—me as a waitress and my sister in the kitchen—and rented the small two-bedrooms apartment above it. I loved that place, and we stayed long enough for me to decorate it with knick-knacks I recycled, furniture I picked up in the trash and painted, making them beautiful again.

The morning of my eighteenth birthday, she’d taken me to have my name legally changed.My double birthday celebration.

I didn’t know someone had taken a picture. Cara’s standing behind the bar hiding her laughter behind Mitch’s shoulder, and my arms are wrapped around his waist while he’s yelling an awful rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’. I can still recall the taste of the pasta with mushroom she’d made for Mitch and me.

Such a happy day.When Gabe snatches the picture out my hand, I gasp and whip my eyes up to his. His face is unrecognizable, and the rage he exudes is almost tangible.

“I…I don’t understand—”

He leans in and I sway back. “You twisted your little ass into my brother’s life, and I know how convincing you can be—”

Mitch’s brother. Gabe is Mitch’s brother.I haven’t seen Mitch in nearly ten years. And he never talked about a brother.

“—then when he wouldn’t give you the moneyed life you wanted you kicked him out. He

got onto his bike and drove straight into a truck.”

Mitch had an accident? “Oh, my G—”

Gabe continues. “He was in a coma for weeks and it took thirty-four surgeries. Thirty-four!” I jump at his roar. “…to get him back on his feet. And the whole fucking time all he could think about was you, clutching this picture like his life depended on it.”

I suck in a breath at the hatred in his eyes. “Your greediness nearly cost me my brother and you’re lucky all I do is to kick you out of his life.”

“Where’s Mitch? he—”

“His name’s Michael!”

I clench my teeth to stop the flood of pain from reaching my eyes. I clear my throat, but my words come out strangled. “How is he? Is Mit … Michael, okay?”

He glares at me. “Like you fucking care.”

There’s heartache in his voice. Grief for his brother who suffered and went through hell. I get closer and stop short of touching his arm.

“Gabe, I’m so sorry… Can I… where’s Mitch? I’m sure he’ll…”

He slants forward until his face is inches from mine. “Go anywhere near my brother again and I’ll make you really regret the day you set your claws into him.”

I believe him. Right now, he’d do anything to protect Mitch.

My heart breaks a little and I touch his jaw which hardens against my palm. “Gabe, listen to me, I’m not—”

For a split second, his gaze softens before anger takes over again. “What the fuck do you want from me?” He wraps his hand around my waist to plaster me against his erection. “Is that what you want? A quick hate-fuck won’t change the fact that I want your greedy little ass gone.” His hold tightens while his eyes drill into mine. “Is it?”

No. No. No.When I push against his chest, he doesn’t budge. My words get stuck in my throat, and a tear burns down my cheek. “No, I don’t want that. I don’t. No … no!”

When Gabe releases me, I stumble backwards and catch myself on the desk. He slaps his hands on the desk on either side of me, caging me.

“Now, you listen to me. I know you’re whoring with your sister.”What?His tone becomes a dangerous hiss, and I clench my teeth while my heartbeat smashes against my ears. “You or anyone remotely related to you even think of going anywhere near Michael, and I’ll make it my mission to grind you into dust. Do you hear me?”

He’s so close. I inhale. Despite the abhorrence in his eyes and the rictus full of hatred

deforming his mouth, my body goes into hyper awareness of him. When he steps back, I straighten up just in time to see him push the contract toward my hand.

“You’re going to sign the contract promising never to contact him. Take the money, and fucking disappear. Far from my city.”

I pinch my lips to stop the trembling of my chin.No, I’ve worked too hard for this.

Never again.

I look at the arrogant jackass. “This is my home. You can’t make me leave and this city isn’t yours.”

His eyes narrow, and his smile jolts my frantic heartbeat until my chest hurts.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong, and if you don’t, there’ll be a press release tomorrow where I’ll tell them how you stole from me.”

He’s insane.“I didn’t—”

“My foreman told me that you and your team took the scraps and leftover of every material you used on the house. This is theft…”

I should have trusted my instincts about the foreman. Swallowing hard, I shut my eyes briefly. Legally he’s right. Cold sweat dribbles down my back and the lace of the dress chafes my skin. Gabe’s been planning this since the beginning.

“…by the time I’m finished with you, no one will touch you nor anyone associated with you. And I’ll personally make sure everyone close to you is denied every opportunity, credit, or job. Trust me, they won’t stay your friends for long.”

The truth whacks me in the head leaving my ears ringing.Everything’s been a lie.The contract for Holloway…God, I got into my dream project on a deception. I let him … my first time was with …the room spins, and his face becomes blurry.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to…

Iblink fast, close my eyes trying to stop my tears, and I breathe deeply. I won’t let him hurt Cara or Emma. Or anyone else because of me.

So, he wins.

He won.

Digging my nails into my palm, I lock my eyes onto his. “If I go, and … if I leave and never come back, you promise you’ll leave my sister and my friends alone?”

Again, his eyes blaze while the room shrinks ever more. “Yes, all you have to do is stay the fuck away.”

My mind veers in auto pilot “All right… I’ll need a couple of months to pack up everything.”

Oh my God, oh…

“You have until October fifteen.”

That leaves me roughly three months and a bit. I can make that work. If Cara gets to keep the house, I’ll pay my share from wherever I’ll be. I can make it work. I take a pen to sign the contract.

Gabe’s voice lashes through the room. “Wait.”

I freeze as he steps behind the desk and punches a number on his cell. “Smithson, I need you to witness the signature.”

Tim walks in and stands next to me. I sign wherever he points to me before he unclips and hands me my copy. He exits the office. Not once does he look at me.

After rolling the hateful document, I shove it in my clutch and hurry to the door on shaking legs.

“Aelin.”

When is this going to end?I stop with my hand on the handle and my back to him. When Gabe sets himself between me and the door, I stagger backwards.

He hands me a rectangle piece of paper. “Don’t forget your money.”

Heat floods my chest and I lock my eyes to his. “Go screw yourself.”

He scoffs while his eyes roam over me and I curve my shoulders down. I feel dirty, sullied. When he steps toward me, and I hold my breath. “There’s enough there for you to stay gone.”

Who is this man?

A whimper escapes me as he grabs my wrist and forces the check into my fisted hand.

As he leans in, his breath fans over my face. “You were worth every cent.”

He slaps a hard kiss on my lips. Stunned, I open my mouth, and he plasters me against him and seals his lips to mine with a groan. He slides his hand under my dress and cups my sex.

No. No. No. Screaming in my head, I claw at his wrist and lean back as far as I can.

“Gabe… Don’t….”

He fists his hand in my hair and tugs my neck back. Behind the anger that blazes in his eyes, there’s lust he can’t hide. Putting more force into squeezing his hand while my breath hacks out of my chest. I choke.

“Please… Gabe, please don’t.”

The next second, I’m free. I lurch toward the door and get out of this hell.

As the elevator finally swishes open on the ground floor, I take a couple of deep breaths and dip my chin at Jason who edges toward me slowly.

His voice is gentle. “Let me take you home, Ms. Aelin.”

I shake my head and force a smile. “I’m all right, Jason. Thank you.”

As I walk past him, he steps in front of me. “It’ll be my pleasure Ms. Aelin.” His jaw tight, he shuffles on his feet with his head bowed and lifts his gaze to mine. “I know… I’ve heard them talk.”

The tears I’ve locked down threaten to drown me once more.Dear God, as if my humiliation weren’t enough.On a trembling breath, I nod and follow him to the car.

Once he pulls over in front of my house and opens the door for me, I thank him and grab the ramp.

Before I reach the first step, he calls out. “Ms. Aelin?”

I pivot toward him. “Yes?”

Edging closer, he says, “I know about your work with the Other Rainbow Foundation and without people like you, my mother and I would have been on the streets, so thank you.”

I try to smile and touch his hand. “Thank you, Jason.”

He waits until I unlock my door to drive away. I walk in, lock the door, and shut my eyes. My purse falls on the rug of the hallway and the scream I’ve been holding explodes out of my chest in a torrent of tears. Drunk with pain, I teeter to my bedroom, rip the dress off my skin, and yank the bangle off my arm. Filth is crawling all over my skin.I need… I jump under the shower and wash and scrub my skin until it’s raw.

Bile raises to my throat while my head throbs. My legs give in, I slide down the red tiles of the shower cubicle and hug my knees. Everybody warned me against him, but I thought…

What an idiot, a stupid, naïve, gullible girl who believed in fairy tales even though nothing in my life ever gave me any reason to think I deserved more than what I’ve worked for. And even that, I don’t get to keep.

Zombie-ing my way out of the steamy room, I trudge to my sister’s room and slip in her bed then bury my face in her pillow.

How will I explain this to her without her breaking her tour? I’ll have to move before she comes back. I can replace a job anywhere, but Cara needs to be in a larger city for her talent to be recognized and for more opportunities to shine in her field.

Cara. My Cara. Cara…

****

The next Sunday as every third Sunday of the month for the past eight years, I go to Rainbow. The well-maintained grounds, with its old leafy oak and the playground on the right where several children are busy being children soothes a little of the funk I’ve been in since … my chest tightens.Never mind.I stroll toward the gigantic house, an old hospital turned into a shelter for broken families. The wide front door I painted in purple a couple of years ago is open. Where’s Vania?

“Lalin!” I wheel around and crouch, on the stone path ready to catch my little cannon of love.God knows I need that today.

She jumps in my arms and giggles while I plant loud kisses over her little face. “My Sammy.”

I crank Sam high on my hip and smile. “Did you leave Mommy behind?”

She nods vigorously. “Mommy’s at school, and I’m here.”

After hugging Mindy, I set Sammy on the ground who runs ahead of us with her grandma on her tail.

I walk in the main room of the house where a large pale blue foyer welcomes me and drop my bag on one of the long benches Johnnie made. After removing my shoes and slipping into soft flat shoes to protect the old polished wooden floor of the room, I stroll in between framed pictures and children’s drawings on the walls on both sides of the family house I consider home.

A couple of women walk out of the wide mouth kitchen and stop to gape at me. Standing still for a few seconds, I smile while letting them assess whether I’m a threat. I’ve been them, so I wait and once they nod, I tip my chin down in greeting.

Vania’s in her office. I smile at the older petite woman who I’ve made my second mother from the first time she took me in her arms.

I hug her a little longer than usual because it’s probably the last time I’d be able to. “Hi, Vania.”

She holds my hand while we sit on the small yellow sofa I bought for her last year. Her knowing soft brown eyes scrutinize me, and she sighs softly.

“Broken heart, kitten?” When I nod, she wipes my tear with her thumb. “It’s going to be okay. Not today or tomorrow, but one day it’ll hurt less.”

Once more, I replace comfort in her arms as she pecks my head. “Thank you for the donations, sweetie.”

I sit up and shift toward her. “All I do is tell them what you do here, and most people are happy to give.” What I don’t need to say is, people probably feel how genuine I am because the Rainbow Foundation saved Cara and me.

A few days later, I receive a picture from Cara who’s posing next to a gecko-type creature with a knife and a plate in her hands. I smile at the caption ‘The new normal? Love you.’My chest tightens. How am I going to tell her about Mitch in that dreadful accident? She didn’t tell me what happened between them, and I didn’t push, but I remember Cara being sad for a long time after he left.

Gabe said I—meaning Cara—left Mitch because she wanted money, and that he got wrong. One thousand per cent. My sister and I have a complex relationship with rich men and specifically with the wealthy ones who wield their money like a weapon.

****

It’s been nearly two months—seven weeks and five days exactly— since Gabe… I clutch my chest and close my eyes.I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.

I’ve cried myself stupid when I shut down my website and referred all my potential clients to Cath Summers who sent me a basket of chocolates that made me sick. Now, kneeling on the soft rug of my bedroom, I place another pair of my shoes in the box then tape it thoroughly. Another one done. I scan my room invaded by the dozens of ugly boxes, sit back on my haunches, and cry. Again.

Last week, the journalist fromElle Décormagazine left me a voicemail to set a time for the interview. I’ll have to decline because it’ll be after the end of October, but I want to hang on to that dream a little longer. I’ve also contacted a real estate agency in San Diego. Money will be tight in the beginning, but it’ll be…

When my cell pings, I wipe my tears off, sit on my bed and read Emma’s text.

Love the course! Full of nerds. My people 🙂 Come visit soon. Miss you.

I haven’t told her about Gabe.How will I ever explain how blinded I was? How stupid… So, so stupid.

Bile erupts to my throat, and I make it to the bathroom just in time. After I empty the content of my stomach—which wasn’t much—I splash my heated face with cold water.

****

I made an appointment with my doctor who sent me for some blood tests. Three days later, sitting in his office, I stare at him, unable to understand words.

I clear my throat, but my words are still choked. “Wh-what did you say?”

He clasps his hands on his desk while his bushy white, spiky brows knit.

“You’re pregnant.”

“Are you sure? I was told I couldn’t get pregnant because of the scarring. Are you absolutely, absolutely sure?” The most beautiful being in the entire universe nods his balding head as I perch on my chair.

He takes off his glasses to place them on his desk and his smile brightens the dreary room. “Yes, I am. You’re about ten weeks along. So, we’re past the halfway mark before we know for sure if the pregnancy will take. I’m going to write you a script for folic acid and prenatal vitamins and refer you to an OB—”

When I jump out my chair, he reels back and blinks owlish eyes at me.

I shake my head. “I have a doctor… I have a gynecologist, thank you.”

“Very well.” He gets to his feet, and I wrap my arms around his bony torso. He taps his hand on my back and congratulates me before I fly out of the room.

Once I get home, I float to the kitchen and drink a glass of water and as I lean my back against the counter, I join my palms together under my chin.

Please. Please. Please, the Universe. Please…

I grab my cell from my purse before climbing on my bed where I sit crossed legged. My heart drums loud and furious as I dial the number I memorized all those years ago and never, ever thought I’d use. The receptionist transfers me, and when she picks up, I exhale a shaking breath.

“Hello, Dr. Nareen? It’s Aelin, Aelin Thorne, you might remember me as—”

She chuckles in the same warm voice I remember. “Hello, Aelin, how are you, little one?”

That’s her nickname for me.She remembers.“I’m well, thank you. Actually, I’ve never been better, my doctor just told me I’m pregnant, and uh … during our last conversation fourteen years ago, you said uh I…”

“Where do you live now, Aelin?”

It turns out her office is located couple hours away from here. She sets up an appointment for the next day.

At 10:00 AM sharp, surrounded by women in various stages of pregnancy, I sit in her pale yellow and cherrywood waiting room facing an enlarged print of the Black Iris. When my name’s called, I drop the outdated copy of Vogue and follow the young smiling round woman.

After entering the off-white office, I stop for a few seconds at the door and hold my breath while my eyes burn. Dr. Nareen’s lips curve up and my breath rushes out of my lungs as I race into her open arms.

My favorite doctor in the whole wide world leans back to look at me. “How are you, little one?”

Too choked up to speak, I nod at the tall, slim brunette with slanted brown eyes.

Leading me to her desk, she settles across from me. “Is Cara with you?”

I shake my head “Cara’s away for work. She’ll be back soon. But I won’t tell anyone before week twelve anyway.”

Her kohled eyes narrow briefly. “What about the father?”

My hands fist in my lap.The man who…“He’s not in the picture.”

We catch up on my life since she last saw me, then the extraordinary woman people nicknamed the ‘Baby Whisperer’ dips her chin as she stands up. “Let’s get you on the table.”

After she examines me, she sits me down and pulls her chair next to mine, so we’re facing each other, and she holds my hands. “Aelin, your pregnancy is, at best, extremely high risk. I want you to take the time to listen to your body and if anything feels wrong, anything at all, you call me, not my office, me personally, yes?”

I nod, wipe my tears off, and nod some more.

Her expression softens. “But I promise you if this baby is ready to come into the world, I’ll do everything in my power to help it do so.”

Nodding again, I hug her.

My first ally.

****

Eight days later, I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and out of breath.

“Cara?” My voice sounds faint in my ear even though I want to scream.

I try to inhale but a hippo sits on my stomach. Crushing me. Stabbing me. If I could just … just … I shift my legs… A sharp cutting pain rips slowly across my belly.

“Cara!”

Saliva floods my mouth and when I lift my head, my hair sticks to my nape. “Cara?”

Cara.I let my head drop on the sweat-soaked pillow. Hot knives battle inside me, tearing my belly, and I lose my breath. Fear strangles me. “Cara… I’m scared…”

She can’t hear me. Sounds explode in my head. I can’t hear me. Another wave rents me in half and throws me into flames.I’m going to die. I’m going to…

“Cara!”

Is not here.

I will my body to roll on the side and turn on the lamp, but when I try to sit up, I can’t draw enough air and fall back on my pillow. My racing heartbeat shakes my whole body. My legs are wet and … viscous.Oh God. No. Please, no.

I touch my sex and lift my fingertips to my face. Violently red blood coats my fingers and my breath hitches. I drag the heavy covers off me and lift my neck. I’m covered in blood from my waist down.I’m going to die.

No. My baby. My baby’s dying.

I fling myself to the side of the bed to grab my cell from my nightstand. Clutching the small device, I wipe off my thumb on the damp sheet and— Aah…

Everything goes black.

Agony… Crying hurts. I punch a number.

“Matthews.”

Finally. Someone.

“G-Gabe… Gabe, plea—”

“Aelin, lose my goddamn number or I’ll make you regret it.” He hangs up.

Please… someone. Please…

The room tilts to its side and the pain stops.

When I wake up, I don’t know how much time has passed. I dial 911.

****

I open the taxi’s back door, shift my knees to the side and scoot toward the door.

All right, I can do this.Deep breath. One foot on the ground then the other. Unfold. Push on my knees. I’m up. I grab the edge of the passenger door and take another breath.I’m all right.One step…

“Why aren’t you helping her?Kretyn!”

I whip my eyes up to the short, plump woman with silver white hair in a bun wearing a short-sleeved black shift dress who marches toward the car while she waves her finger at the driver.

My nosy neighbor from across the street nears me and loops her surprisingly strong arm around my waist. “Let’s get you home, my dear.” She raises her scowl at the driver who walks around the car to slam the door shut.

She straightens on all of her five foot zero and glowers at the lanky man. “What kind of man are you? Can’t you see she needs help,idiota?”

A low grumbling noise rumbles out of the man’s chest as he rolls his eyes before he gets in his car and speeds away. I dip my chin at the same time the woman I’m seeing up close for the first time lifts her gaze to me while her deep pink lipstick stretches into a smile. Her warm voice is lilted. “Can you walk?”

After a nod, I curl my arm around her shoulder—her hair smells of roses—and we make our way up the five stairs to my front door. I lean my back against the cold iron rail.

“The key’s—”

She bends down to retrieve the spare key from the plant pot near the doormat. She’s been watching us. A lot, but right now, I’m just grateful she has. She walks me into my house and leads me to the couch of the living room where I sit while she plumps up some cushions she piles against the arm of the sofa.

“Lie down, my dove. I’ll get you some water.”

And I do just that. The noises I’m so familiar with in my kitchen sound comforting even though the cadence of movements is different from Cara’s. It’s like listening to the cover version of an old favorite song.

When she comes back a few minutes later with a tumbler of fresh water, I sit up to gulp it down while she settles in the armchair next to me.

“Thank you, Mrs.?”

My neighbor grins. “Roman, Gertrude Roman. Call me Gertie.”

After I set the empty glass on the coffee table, she holds my hand between hers.

“I opened the door to the paramedics before they broke it down because I know your sister’s not here. What happened, little dove?”

Too exhausted to put my guards up, I let her nurturing gaze comfort me.

“Cara’s somewhere in Asia for work and … and … I’ve lost my baby and had some … complications.”

Her lips pinch then her expression softens as tears flow down my cheeks.

She taps on the back of my hand. “You’re going to be just fine, my dove. Just fine.”

Gertie settles on the couch beside me and opens her arms. I bury my face in her neck and cry while she strokes my hair. She holds me tight until I fall asleep cuddled against her.

The next day, daylight filtering through the window and a stabbing ache low in my stomach wake me up. I groan as I swing my legs to sit up. After a couple of deep breaths, I stand up carefully and trudge to my bedroom.

Wincing at the smell that assaults my nose, I grip the doorjamb, amble on shaking legs to the window and twist the wand to open the blinds. When I wheel around, I gasp and clutch my throat. There’s dried blood everywhere, splattered on the bed, staining the hardwood floor. My nightstand lamp lays shattered on the floor next to the book I haven’t read. I perch at the foot of the bed, in the middle of the carnage of my life, and weep.

****

Two weeks later, nestled in the wide armchair in our small study lounge room, I set my cup of tea on the side table beside me and smile when tiny Gertie bosses around the crew of three big muscly guys delivering my new bed.

When one of them rolls his eyes at something she says, I giggle as she winks at me.

Not once has Gertie probed or questioned me about the pregnancy. She visits every day, and often brings food with her. Tasty, delicious food from Poland, her birth country.

During our many conversations, I learn that she’s been widowed for seventeen years, has three adult children who rarely visit, and is lonely and lovely.

I’ve thanked her several times for taking care of me. The day I apologized and confessed my terrible judgement of her as a nosy meddler, she threw her head back in laughter and nearly fell off the stool in the kitchen—maybe because of the two glasses of Drambuie she had—then she held my face between her wrinkly hands and smacked a loud kiss somewhere between my hairline and the bridge of my nose.

“Oh, but I am, my dove, I am. I’m also a mother without her children and you’re a child without a mother.”

****

Seated in the middle of my bed, in my pjs on and clutching my cell, I shuffle to rest my back on the headboard. I plump a fat pillow before placing it between me and the too hard wood panel, and dial Emma’s number. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, babe. So sorry. I got your missed call. I’m drowning in exams, and I’m dead on my feet.” After a tired chuckle, she says. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you miss me?”

“One hundred,” I reply with a smile.

After a couple of seconds, maybe less, Em sighs. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

How does she do that?

“Talk to me, Ael.”

So, I do. I stumble through being blindsided and hurt while feeling dirty and utterly stupid when I signed that evil contract. And I tell her how terrified I was when my baby died.

Emma gasps. “My God, Ael … this … this motherfucker … this… My God, Ael, I’m so sorry. Okay, let me book a flight—”

“No. Em, no. You have exams—”

“But—”

“Em, please. Don’t. Gertie’s here with me, and I’m fine.” When my best friend protests, I clutch my cell tighter and lean into it. “Em, don’t come back. Please. I wouldn’t be able to bear the thought that you put your life on hold for me. Please, Em. For me.”Please.

When she sighs, I swipe a tear off. “Okay, babe, all right, but you call me if you need me. Call me anyway and I’ll call you. Often. Deal?”

I nod through my tears and put a smile in my voice. “Thank you, my darling. I will.”

We talk for another hour or so, and after we disconnect, I slide under my covers and fall into a deep sleep.