“Memphis. Memphis.Memphis.” And I’m finally home.
12
Memphis
From beside me, Cannon’s breathing evens out as he drops off to sleep. I hover on the edge as well, my body sated and mind spinning.
How can he forgive me so easily?
There was only one man I knew who could do so with such ease, and that was my father.
He would have liked Cannon. I have no doubt about that. What he would have liked even more is the way Cannon treats his daughter.
As the garage door closed tonight, I was expecting rage and accusations. Outbursts and blame. But all I got was understanding and acceptance. Trust when I hadn’t earned it. And through it all, he still wanted me, exactly as I am.
I already knew how I felt about Cannon before, but tonight cemented everything.I love him, and there’s absolutely nothing that could make me do anything to hurt him. Ever.
I make the vow to myself, and I will die to keep it.
Whatever comes next, we will handle it together.
“I love you,” I whisper into the darkness, and I swear his arm tightens around me. For the first time in months, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
“I can’t believeyou didn’t answer my calls, Memphis. I may not be your biological mother, but I’m the only one you’ve ever known.”
Taking my mom out to dinner is pretty much the last thing I want to do right now, but I force myself to make a semi-sincere apology. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve been busy. I was undercover.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her the truth—or at least so much of it. I should lie to her, but lies don’t come as easily to my lips today as they did before. And I know exactly why that is.
Because the truth feels damn good.
“You and your little investigations. Are you ever going to find a respectable hobby?” She lifts her third glass of wine to her lips and drains it, and we haven’t even finished the escargot she insisted on ordering as an appetizer.
Since it’s the only thing that makes them tolerable, I squeeze lemon onto the one and only snail I’ll eat. Overdoing it on the citrus makes my lips pucker, but not more than my dinner date.
“It’s not a hobby, Mother. It’s my job.”
She shakes her head, and her empty glass clinks against the plate as her hand trembles when she sets the crystal on the table. Clearly, Mother hasn’t had enough to drink today to satisfy what her body has grown to need with her addiction.
“Oh, really? Is someone paying you to be undercover? Because Sandra Reddington told me last week at tennis that you took a sabbatical from the network, and Jim has finally given up hope that you’re coming back.”
It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. Jim Reddington is a senior executive at Investigation Network, where I worked, and was a friend of my father’s. He knew why I left, even if I didn’t tell him, and he didn’t try to confirm. When I rose from our meeting and shook his hand, he gave me a grave smile and said,“Be safe and happy, Memphis. That’s what your father would want for you.”
He offered to let me do the investigation as part of my role at the network, but when I declined, he didn’t push the issue. Probably because he knew that this wasn’t for public consumption, and I would never exploit what happened to my father for the sake of ratings. Besides, if I was right and my father died because he’d dug too deep into the dark recesses of the mob and paid the price with his life, nobody at the station would have been safe.
This is formeand the justice I need. I won’t let a personal quest cost another life.
“Jim and I had an agreement, and what’s more, it was a confidential one. Sandra shouldn’t be saying anything about it.”
The server keeps glancing in our direction but stays away from the table, like he’d rather not interact with my stepmother either. Smart guy.
My stepmother releases an exasperated sigh and maneuvers a snail off the serving dish and onto her plate with not-so-nimble grace. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to go around asking for updates from my friends if you would answer your phone and tell me what’s going on.”
If I thought the woman across from me actually cared about anything I had to say, I might have told her more, but I’ve learned over the years that our interests don’t overlap.
Maybe after all these years, it’s time to search for relatives of my biological mother. My father told me she loved me dearly and passed away when I was four, and out of respect for Cynthia, he would prefer we not talk about her. While my instinct was to rebel against everything my stepmother told me, I followed my father’s instructions like they came straight from the gospel.