“With Toby?”
“Maybe. What are you doing with Gabby?” Emerson stalks toward me. “You leave her alone. Don’t think you can use her to make me jealous.”
“What? You think that’s why I’m here? To play some game and use Gabby? You sure think a lot of my character.”
“Stay away from Gabby.” Her eyes flash with a fury I haven’t seen since the day Toby dropped her off at my house the first time.
“Are you hearing yourself? You dumped me this morning and gave up the right to tell me to do anything.”
She sucks in air. I resist grabbing her and shaking sense into that head of hers. I know she still wants me.
“Out. Get out. Now.” Emerson grabs the door and swings it wide. It pops against the wall.
Gabby comes to the doorway before I can leave. “He didn’t do anything.”
Emerson looks at her sister. “You. How could you? Don’t even talk to me.”
“It’s not like that,” Gabby whispers, but Emerson isn’t listening. I shake my head at Gabby and walk past her. “Lock up behind me, okay?”
Gabby nods and follows me to the door. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Don’t worry. We’ll work it out. Call me,” she says in a low voice.
“People never realize what they had until it’s too late,” I say.
I look up in time to see Emerson in the hallway, listening to every incriminating word.
Chapter Twenty-One
Don’t Stop Believin’
Emerson
Day Two of Toby time has gotten easier. I don’t know him well enough to feel comfortable, but we’ve been forced into a crazy version of co-habitation during my waking hours. After too many hours of mindless television, I decide to clean his living room.
Diesel follows me around like a lovesick pup. He periodically pokes his wet nose into my behind as a reminder that I’m on petting duty. That’s what I get for spending my initial hours as his human slave.
Toby drops a duffel bag at one end of the retro-style kitchen table. He reads his phone and rubs his hand along his jawline. The corners of his mouth dip.
“Bad news?” I ask.
“It’s nothing,” he answers with a stiff smile.
“You married?”
He places his phone on the table. “No. Why do you ask?”
I shrug and wipe down the dusty front of the television. “I don’t know.”
“You asked for a reason. Maybe you’re interested in me.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. Toby’s eyebrows draw together as if he’s truly hurt.
“I thought maybe a wife or girlfriend is tired of you working,” I say, nodding at the phone.
“This undercover stuff doesn’t lend well to a relationship.” He sits at the table and pulls a toweled bundle from his duffel bag.
“Doesn’t work well for me either.” I sit across from him and watch as he unrolls the towel. “Holy shit. A gun?”
He glances up at me. “Sorry. Maybe I should’ve warned you.”
“This is getting gangster-real, don’t you think? Is that necessary?”
Toby levels his gaze. “Very.”
“Okay. That was a stupid thing to say on my part, but I keep thinking I’m going to wake from a bad dream.”
“Do you know why your father might take you off his visitor’s list?” Toby picks up his phone and rests both elbows on the table while he stares at the screen.
His question echoes in my mind. “No.” My voice sounds tinny, weak and confused. Like the answer an Alzheimer’s patient might give when trying to dredge up the correct response.
“Hmm...” he responds and continues to stare at his phone. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
I’m numb. I’ve been hanging around at Toby’s imagining two things—what I’ll say to my father that won’t sound bitter and how I’ll make Dylan see this was a farce. “I can’t blame him. Would you want to see the daughter whom you haven’t heard from in years?” I lay my arms on the table in front of me and place my head down on them. Wallowing in self-pity has never been my thing, but I’m suddenly drowning in a mire.
“Yeah. I would.” There’s the sound of a moving chair and Toby’s hand on my arm. Then, his hands brace my shoulders. “Hey, it might be a mistake. There has to be a reason for it. We’re checking with his attorney to see if he can get in tomorrow.”
“What if Rafa decides he’ll kill somebody because he thinks I’m stalling—”
“Stop. We’ll come up with something.” Toby pulls me to my feet and moves me to face him. “Do I look like this is a problem? We’ll get a message to your father tomorrow that he has to see you.”
“How can you be sure that will work?” I search his face for some doubt. My hands are clenched into tight fists. I don’t realize this until Toby uncurls them, holding them loosely between us—a subtle sign of camaraderie rather than romance.
“We’ll have his attorney tell him you’re pregnant or dying or having a sex change. It’ll work.”
I pull in air. “Right. Extraordinary circumstances. Why can’t we just tell him the truth? It’s pretty dire.”
Toby has a look of regret. “We don’t think he’ll confide in his attorney. Your father’s already had his nose broken and maybe more...”
I close my eyes, a slow dose of horror and pity filtering into me. All the anger at my father seems so far away and petty. So useless. “I don’t like to think about what it’s like in there.”
Toby tips my chin up and I open my eyes. He releases his hold and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “If he’s going to trust someone, it has to be you.”
“Okay then.” I stand and grab Diesel’s walking leash. “I need to get out of here for a little while.”
“Not without me.” Toby lifts his shirt and reveals a holster almost at his back. He retrieves the gun from the table and casually holsters it before grinning at me. “Ready.”
“I’ve never had such a suffocating boyfriend in my life. Never. You’re pushing it.”
“Don’t threaten me or I won’t let you break up when this is over.” He chuckles while grabbing his knit cap and pulling it on.
“And then who’d be punished? You’d be stuck with me.”
“If only...” he says and winks. “It’s going to break my heart when you go back to Dylan.”
I don’t reply to his statement, but I think he’s wrong. I can’t get Dylan’s words to my sister out of my head. Like a hated song that sticks with me, a lyric burned on my brain, a melody looping on repeat.
People don’t realize what they had until it’s too late.
We head outdoors for a brisk walk. Toby stays close to me on the sidewalk. Occasionally, he glances over and smiles at something I’ve said. And I pretend to smile back.
I wake in the middle of the night, startled until I remember staying overnight at Toby’s. He’s given me his bed, saying he could never allow me to take the sofa. His blanket is scratchy and thick. His pillows are too soft and they smell like him.