Drying off, I study myself in the mirror, the cuts and bruises making me look like I’ve been in battle. I’m used to my scars being hidden on the inside. My knees and legs got the worst of it, but it’s my eyes that I can’t stand to look at. I’m a liar.
Some people think it’s never okay to lie. I say those people must’ve had a damn good life. They probably never had to lie about where their bruises came from or tell someone they weren’t hungry when they hadn’t had a meal in days. For some of us, lying equals surviving.
I came clean to Slade about a lot of things, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I may not be a prostitute, but I’m a criminal just the same. There are things Slade doesn’t know. Things he can never know.
My reasons don’t matter, I still broke the law, and if I’m caught, Slade could get caught in the crossfire. I don’t want that to happen; he’s so good to Finn and to me. I don’t want to let him go. He’s one of the few good things in my life.
I run my fingers through my wet hair. It’s midmorning already, and I need to get back to the ranch and see if anything can be salvaged. As soon as Finn gets up from his nap, we’ll go. I’m not sure how I’m going to get anything done with him, but maybe Catrine can watch him. She shouldn’t be in that mess either. Pushing open the door to Slade’s bedroom, I see my bag resting on the bed and begin digging through it. I really must have been out of it yesterday. It’s just a hodgepodge of items. I pull out the one bra and single pair of panties I packed.
“Paige,” Slade says from the doorway.
“Hmm,” I say, continuing to dig through my bag to pull together something that doesn’t make me look like a hobo.
“You’re standing in my bedroom in nothing but a towel.”
I flash him a smile over my shoulder. “I’m all covered up.”
“Not for long,” he says, wrapping his arms around me and lowering me to the bed. Giggling, I hold the top of my towel up. His warm breath on my neck, he whispers, “Finn’s napping. What do you need?”
Apparently, this is now our little code phrase for sex.
“To get to work,” I say, pushing him back playfully.
He pulls me down on top of him in the bed. “I think you might need something else.”
Tilting my head to the side like I’m thinking hard, I bite my bottom lip. “I need to take care of you.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asks, grinning up at me.
“I thought we’d start with…” I lean over, letting my breath tickle his neck. “You eating a salad for lunch.”
He smacks my ass hard. “Tease.”
Planting a quick peck on his lips, I get to my feet. He stands up, gently running his fingers through my hair. “Any word from the contractor on how long to repair the damages?” I ask.
His head shakes. “I’m meeting him out there later.”
“Then I should get out there and get the rest of our things. Salvage what can be saved.”
“You should rest today,” he says.
My eye roll lets him know that’s not happening. “I’ll go as soon as Finn gets up.”
He releases a huge breath. The man hates not getting his way. “If you have to go, just go now. I’ll bring Finn out with me when I come.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re kidding?”
*
Donning rubber boots and carrying a box of salvageable items, I walk through the house, willing a text, a phone call, something back from Slade. He hasn’t been in touch at all, despite my dozen texts checking on him and Finn. What was I thinking leaving him alone with a baby? He’s never changed a diaper. He only held a baby for the first time a few weeks ago.
I place the box outside next to a couple others that need to go to Slade’s house in the city. The parts of the house that weren’t affected by the storm are being sealed off, and the broken front window has already been boarded up, so the house is secure. The entire kitchen and den areas will be gutted due to wind and water damage. I’ve only got one more set of cabinets to look through before finishing up. All the electronic equipment was ruined. I managed to save a few books, but not much else.
A whole crew of people is here cleaning up and assessing the damage. Walking back into the house, I can’t help but overhear how the beautiful floors need to be replaced, all the cabinetry, how they have to safeguard against mold.
“Some of the wiring is shot,” one man says. “The whole security system, cameras. Everything needs to be replaced.”
“Cameras?” I ask, turning to him.
“Security cameras,” he says. “They cover basically the whole exterior and interior of the house, except the bedrooms and bathrooms.”
He lied to me. That night when I asked how he knew I watched the Cooking Channel, he lied. I asked specifically about cameras, and he said there weren’t any . . . no. Come to think of it, he never said there weren’t. He simply dodged my question. Damn him!
He should’ve told me. Okay, so maybe that’s not fair. It’s his house. It’s his right to have cameras. I know lots of people do—to watch their babysitter, their teenagers, or just monitor the comings and goings around their house. And I doubt any of those people inform the help that they’re being watched. It’s not like he saw me on the toilet or anything.
Still, I thought I was alone. He could’ve been watching me. What’s the worst he saw? Me watching television? Crawling on the floor with Finn?
I could make a big deal out of this, and even though it hurts, he didn’t fess up to it, so I’m not going to ruin what we just started by blowing this out of proportion.
Decision made. Time to get back to work.
I squat down, the floor still damp, and begin pulling out various items—ice bucket, throw blanket, an old VCR, and what I think is an original Nintendo—but they’re all ruined.
Tilting my head to look inside, I notice something pushed back in the corner. I can see the edge is wet, but reach for it anyway. It’s a canvas. The writing on the back says, Mommy and Slade (Age 2).
I flip it over, and his sapphire eyes shoot right out at me like they are leaping off the canvas. Even at two years old, his eyes were captivating. His head is tilted to the side, resting on his mother’s chest. One of her hands is in his hair and the other on his back as she looks down at him. I can tell from the photo she was beautiful with long dark hair, pale skin, and beautiful eyes, though not the same eyes as her little boy.
He looks completely loved and at peace in her arms. I wonder if he ever feels that way anymore. I carry it out into the sunlight. The edges are damaged, but the feeling in the photo is very much intact.
Slade is a big man. It’s surreal to see him so tiny in his mother’s arms. It makes me wonder what Finn will look like. Someday, he’ll be taller than me, bigger than me, stronger than me. I’m raising a man and have no idea what I’m doing.
I hear a door slam and look up, seeing Slade pulling Finn out of his car seat. Rushing to them, I say, “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick.”
“Call you? How was I supposed to call you? How do you get anything done with this kid other than holding him, feeding him, and playing with him? I haven’t even pissed since you left,” he says, laughing, but I know it’s true.