When I’m finally outside again, my skin tingles and the hair on my nape stands on end. I hurry into my car, lock the door, and store my bags in the seat next to me. I don’t think anyone could know that I’m here. This is me being paranoid but if they do, then they know I was at the hotel. More than a little eager to get home to Rick, I start the engine but I can’t remember if Rick is getting takeout or if I am. I also don’t want to call him and distract him when he’s sneaking around however he’s sneaking around.
Chick-fil-A is close, so I just hit the drive-thru and a few minutes later I’m armed with a bag of four spicy chicken sandwiches for Rick and one for me, as well as fries. And as soon as I realize it’s almost three, and the stylist will arrive soon, I stuff my face with those fries only to have her text me to tell me she’ll be late. Small miracles do exist.
I pull into my garage and the minute the garage door is down and I’m outside my car, Rick is walking toward me. That big hunk of a man is a sight for sore eyes and just seeing him again has me breathing a little easier. What is wrong with me? I’ve dealt with Gabriel for months under the duress of knowing he might hurt my father. I can do it a little longer.
“I grabbed the food, baby,” Rick says when he’s taken all the bags from me. “I wanted you to have time to eat.”
“I couldn’t remember who was grabbing the food. And the stylist will be late.”
He leans in and kisses me, and even without his hands free, it’s a crazy intense, wonderful kiss. “Come.” He smiles, intimacy crackling between us. “Let’s eat.”
“Yes. Let’s eat.”
A few minutes later, Rick and I have stashed the ice cream in the freezer, set my cans of soup on the counter, and are now standing in the kitchen at the counter, stuffing our faces with way too much food, way too fast. When I’ve had enough, and he’s three sandwiches in, I toss my trash in the bag. “I need to tell you something but I don’t want you to change your mind about the party.”
Rick tosses his trash in the bag as well, giving me his full attention. That’s the thing about Rick, he always had a way of making me feel important, like every word I spoke mattered and that’s proving true all over again.
“Tell me,” he urges.
“A few months ago, Gabriel tried to convince me to get pregnant, despite us being unmarried and the campaign kicking off. Rick, I think he, or they, Gabriel and his backer, have always been planning to kill me and make me the sympathy vote. Or maybe that plan hatched when my father became a problem.”
He studies me, his expression unreadable, but the muscle in his jaw ticks. “What did you say?”
“This was after I knew he wanted to get rid of my father. I tried to buy time. I told him that we weren’t married. Then he said we could elope. I said no. I told him I felt like a political token. He denied that, of course.”
“And what would you have said before you knew his ill intent, Candace? Did you want to have his baby?”
“No. I didn’t want to make babies with him, Rick. The only person I’d do that with is you.”
His eyes narrow. “I thought you didn’t want kids.” It’s not really a question.
“That’s the point of this story. I mean yes, I thought you needed to know how deep the ill intent, as you called it, runs, but it was about more than that.”
His eyes sharpen, darken. “Tell me.”
I swallow hard, nerves in my belly that want to explode with how vulnerable I’m about to be but I promised him trust. I think he needs to know now more than ever, that I’m giving him that trust. “I thought I was pregnant after you left. And I was surprisingly happy. I was disappointed when I wasn’t. It was like I lost a little piece of you, that I never really had anyway but I made it real in my mind. I know we didn’t want kids but—”
He catches my arms and pulls me to him. “Baby, I want the world with you.” His voice is low, rough, almost guttural. “The fucking world, I tell you.” The doorbell rings and he grimaces. “More later. Lots fucking more later.” He takes my hand presses what I know is my engagement ring from Gabriel into my palm. “Put it on. And get your stylist and the doctor to the spare bedroom.”
“Why the spare bedroom?”
“If you go to the master, the closet is in the back of the bathroom. I need to be closer. I need to hear what’s going on at all times.”
“Maybe you can peek through the door and tell me which dress to pick?”
“Any dress that’s not for him, baby.”
“Nothing is for him,” I promise.
“Not anymore.”
“Rick—”
“I left. I got what I deserved.”
The doorbell rings again and I pant out a breath. “I need to get that.” My stupid voice trembles and Rick doesn’t miss it.
“Relax, baby.” His hands come down on my shoulders, his touch warm and strong—the connection comforting. “I’m going to be right here and you played this game alone with Gabriel before I was back on the scene. Just remember that you’re sick. Keep that game up with the stylist, too.” He kisses me. “I’ll let you pick the movie we watch while eating ice cream as long as it’s Sonic the Hedgehog.”
I laugh as he heads out of the kitchen but even to my own ears it’s strained. I don’t know why I’m making the stylist and some retired doctor such a big deal. Other than the fact that both are likely spying on me, this is not a big deal. I have nothing to worry about. At least not now.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Candace
I open my front door to find a pretty blonde with big boobs standing there. I know she has big boobs because she’s showing a whole lot of cleavage. She’s also wearing a pink dress but it’s hard to notice, for the cleavage. More power to her though. I mean I wouldn’t have that cleavage with socks stuck in my bra.
“You are stunning. This is going to be fun. I’m Dawn, your personal fashion consultant.” She offers me her hand which I shake before she motions over her shoulder. “I have about a dozen dresses for you to try. If those don’t work, I can bring you more.” She tilts her head. “You’re wholesome.” She turns and heads for her car.
Wholesome.
The girl next door.
I wonder if that’s why Gabriel chose me? Well, that and I’m my father’s daughter. Obviously, he thought alignment with my father controlled my father. He clearly never knew my father all that well.
It’s not long before Dawn and I are in the spare bedroom and I have a selection of red and blue dresses on a rolling display she’s set up.
“Do you have a mirror?”
Crap. The mirror is in the closet on the door.
“A crappy one,” I say. “I guess I’ll just have to walk across the hall but my master is messy.” I give a shaky laugh. “I prefer to keep that to myself.”
“I have a mirror in the car.”
Relief washes over me as she adds, “And I heard you’ve been sick so if you need to take a break anytime, we can.” She exits the room and I quickly try on a dress, just trying to hurry this along. By the time she returns I’m on dress number two.