She retrieves a bottle of wine from the fridge and sets it on the counter with a soft clink. Leaning against the island, she closes her eyes for a moment, like she’s finally allowing herself to feel the weight of everything.
“Would you like a glass?” she asks quietly.
“No, thank you.” I step forward, taking the bottle and the corkscrew from her hand. “Let me. Sit. You’ve had a day.”
Her shoulders drop, some of the tension leaking away. “Yes,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I have.”
She sits, wraps both hands around the empty glass, and watches me work the cork. I don’t mention the tracker, or Richard, or any of it. She knows I’m here. That’s enough for tonight.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Alicia
My phone buzzes against the marble counter, the vibration faint but sharp in the hush of the kitchen. I pad over in socked feet, the floor cool beneath me, wine-soft fatigue in my limbs. Dinner’s over. The dishwasher loaded.
Noah and Stella finished their post-dinner basketball ritual in the driveway before he locked up for the night. She’s upstairs now, getting ready for bed, and he’s downstairs reviewing footage—ever vigilant, always one step ahead of threat.
For the first time all week, my muscles have finally unclenched. My shoulders no longer ache. The wine’s warmth hums low and steady through me. I’m ready to close out this day—hell, this entire month—and pretend peace isn’t borrowed time.
The phone lights again, and dread coils through me.
Dick: Call me when you get a chance.
Of course. The timing is perfect, as always. I should’ve known he’d reach out after seeing me in Noah’s arms. I stare at the message for a beat, considering ignoring it, but I’ve never been one to procrastinate on unpleasant tasks.
So I tap Call.
“Richard,” I say when he picks up on the third ring.
There’s the faint click of a door closing on his end.
“Are you dating him?” His voice is sharp, laced with disdain.
My stomach tightens. “That’s not your business.”
“Oh? Last I checked, we share a daughter who happens to be living in your house.”
A car horn bleats in the background.
“Are you outside?”
“I’m going for an after-dinner walk.”
“After ten?” I ask, catching the lie. “You mean you don’t want your girlfriend to overhear you interrogating me. You’re transparent, Richard. Always have been.”
He exhales, the sound harsh over the line. “Where’s Stella?”
“Upstairs. Getting ready for bed.” I roll my eyes at the ceiling, the same way she does when she’s frustrated.
“And Noah?”
“Ah, so you do know his name.”
“We were introduced,” he bites out. “You said he was security—which I’m not happy about.”
“I’m aware.”