Selena

 

It takes quite a bit of effort to get up and throw on a bathrobe when the terse woman from earlier comes back with clothing for us. She’s picked out nice but simple outfits, several for us to choose from.

 

I slip into the bathroom to dress in a simple blue sundress, pulling my hair up into a messy knot on top of my head. When I walk out, Finn looks amazing in a jacket and jeans. But it’s the look he gives me that makes my core go molten. Even my husband never looked at me like that, like I was the only thing he could see.

 

“You look gorgeous,” he says.

 

“Oh, it’s …I …” I stammer over my words. “Thank you. You too.”

 

He offers his arm and we head down to the club restaurant, full of CEOs and their wives, all manicured and well-dressed. No one pays us much attention, and we’re given a table in a relatively quiet corner, near a window that looks out over the perfectly trimmed golf course.

 

After we’ve ordered drinks and appetizers, Finn asks me where I want to go next.

 

“I don’t know,” I say. “I was thinking somewhere with a beach. I can wait tables or bartend. Start a new life for myself and the baby.”

 

One corner of Finn’s mouth pulls down.

 

“What?” I ask.

 

“There you go again,” he answers. “You’re not in this alone, Selena. I’m here with you.”

 

“But it’s not like … I don’t expect you raise someone else’s kid,” I say. “I wouldn’t put that on you.”

 

“What if I want it?” he asks.

 

“Want … what?”

 

Finn makes a face that tells me I’m being dense. “It. This. You. The baby.”

 

I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I try to school my features into something … anything … anything. Obviously, I fail, though, because he looks away, out to the beautiful landscape, his jaw clenched.

 

“I’ve lived in a weird half-space for a long time, Selena,” he says. I’ve fucked up, done shitty things, made stupid choices. I survived, but that was it. And the last time I let someone near me, she screwed me over big time. I’m lucky, I guess, that she just ran off with the money. I mean, no one tried to kill me.”

 

“Tell me about her?” I ask.

 

He lets a quick breath out through his nose. “Becca. She was a wounded soul. An addict. I thought I could fix her.”

 

“Is that what this is?” I ask. “I’m someone you feel the need to fix?”

 

“Nah,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. He looks me in the eye. “No. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met.”

 

“Don’t be facetious,” I say, cheeks burning.

 

“I’m not,” he says. “Selena, you impress me. You’ve been through some shit, but you don’t let it get you down. You’re not off self-medicating, or quitting, or whatever. You’re still standing. It’s really a thing to behold. You impress me more than you can know. Becca was always blaming everything on everyone else. Always looking for the next fix or the next scam. She would lure people in and make them believe she …” Finn stops talking and takes a deep breath. “She never loved me. Not in any real way. And when she left, I shut down. But you … you’ve made me feel alive again.”

 

I reach out and he takes my hands across the table. “I care about you, Finn. I don’t know what it means yet. I’m not dumb enough to think that what I feel is love, not with all of this insanity happening. But I care. And I’m happy to have you at my side until we figure out what’s real and what’s not.”

 

He gives me a soft smile and nods. “Good. So how do you feel about Mexico?”

 

***

 

Finn

 

We head out early the next morning, after stuffing ourselves with room service for breakfast, followed by a long shower together.

 

As we drive, I see a small mom-and-pop car lot and decide we should ditch the stolen Jeep. I leave it a few blocks away after wiping it down for prints. We go and buy a used pickup truck in cash and make our way to the southern tip of California.

 

I stop and buy a prepaid cell phone, calling a buddy of mine in San Diego for a favor. He asks for a day to complete my request, so Selena and I get a hotel room for another night.

 

We order pizza and curl up in the room for the night, watching a movie. It feels like such a normal thing to do. It’s not a very good movie, a chick-flick, really, and a particularly manipulative one. But Selena ends up crying.

 

I snicker at her and she smacks me on the arm. “Shut up,” she laughs. “I’m pregnant. My hormones made me do it.”

 

“Do you miss your husband?” I ask.

 

“No,” she says quickly. “Not really.”

 

I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Not at all?”

 

She shrugs. “I don’t think about him much. I’m not sure we were ever really a good match.”

 

“Hmm,” I grunt. “What did you imagine for your life before you met him?”

 

“I don’t know,” she says. “I thought I’d work in some high-rise in the city. I was very focused on fashion and going out. Brunches on Sunday mornings. We traveled a lot with Matt’s clients. Partied a lot. It wasn’t a fulfilling life, though. My friends weren’t really my friends, you know?”

 

“Sounds lonely,” I say.

 

“Well, I think you know a thing about that, too, don’t you?” she counters.

 

“Fair enough,” I say. “Yes, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Do you have any hobbies?” she asks. “Do you do anything for fun?”

 

I let out a bitter little laugh. “What’s fun?” I ask. “Just kidding. I mean, I work out, play basketball. I do have a couple of buddies that I meet up with for drinks or a game. I play a round of poker here and there. I’m not totally un-fun.”

 

“Good to know,” she says. “Because I’m actually really fun.”

 

“If you consider yoga fun, then I beg to differ.”

 

She smacks my arm again. “Jerk. Yoga helps me manage my anxiety. And I do enjoy it. But I also like listening to music. I used to be a dancer. I like a good board game.”

 

“Noted,” I say with a chuckle.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve gotten to know someone?” she asks. “Like, asked their favorite color or taken them to dinner?”

 

“Long time,” I admit. “With Becca it wasn’t like that usually. She struggled a lot and things were always hard. It was like walking on eggshells, being with her.”

 

“Did you think you’d end up in this business? In this type of life?” she asks.

 

“You mean the type where I shake people down when they don’t pay their exorbitantly high-interest loans?” I ask.

 

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers.

 

“I was super young when I started working for my dad. I went to school but I wasn’t any good at it. I ran around with my buddies, screwed women, got drunk. My father cuffed me on the chin one day and told me I was going to work with him or end up in jail. And he wasn’t wrong. But I took his business in such a different direction after he died …” I take a minute to think and then sigh. “I guess I saw myself as this badass or something. I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise. Kind of pathetic, I guess.”

 

“Well,” she says. “I guess we get a chance to do it again.”

 

“I guess we do,” I say.

 

I’m still thinking about that long after she’s fallen asleep.

 

***

 

Selena

 

Finn tells me we’ve got a pit stop to make before we head across the border into Baja. I’m anxious to get across, but he reminds me that we left with none of our identifying information. He’s had to call an old contact in order to get us fake passports and identities.

 

“Are you sure it’s safe?” I ask.

 

“He’s just a paper pusher,” Finn says. “Always up to make a buck but harmless.”

 

We drive into a packed neighborhood of run-down storefronts and apartment buildings. He parks several blocks from the place where we need to go. At first, he wants me to stay in the truck, but then he thinks better of it.

 

The day is gorgeous and sunny as we walk, but very hot. I mention that I can’t wait to buy a bathing suit and lie by a pool and we have a light conversation about swimming and beach activities. When we get to the meeting point, an apartment in a crummy building that smells like pot and piss, Finn goes rigid, his eyes darting all over the place as he checks every face, looks for every way out. He grips my hand and pulls me close as we climb two floors.

 

At a metal door with peeling brown paint, he knocks. A guy opens it only part of the way.

 

Finn holds out cash and the guy takes it before pushing the documents out at us. Finn takes it and I assume that’s the entire exchange, but then the guy says, “I’m sorry, man,” and flings the door wide.

 

There, behind the door, is Sergei. Not only Sergei, but another huge bodyguard, who has ahold of my husband Matt. We’re pushed inside by a huge man who seemingly comes out of nowhere from behind us, and the door slams shut, trapping us inside.

 

Matt’s got a terribly bruised face. He’s seen better days. I’m not even sure he recognizes me through his swollen eyes. Sergei doesn’t look much better, his arm in a sling, various cuts healing on his face.

 

“What the fuck?” Finn asks, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

 

The guy raises a shoulder. “I heard through the network there was a prize for information on you. Imagine my surprise when you called for docs. I needed the money.”

 

“Fuck you,” Finn snarls. “Fucking whoring yourself to the goddamn Russian mafia.”

 

Sergei tsks at us. “I am not the Russian mafia. I’m just a businessman. But I am a resourceful and relentless one, and I do owe you a bullet for the one you put in me.”

 

He pulls his weapon with a nonchalance that belies his injuries. That’s how dangerous he is.

 

“Just let Selena go,” Finn says. “Let her go live her life, and you can do whatever with me.”

 

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Sergei says. “You know, I found this guy in Columbus, Ohio. He was just working in some corporate job, as if his life in New York had never happened. A curious state of affairs. As a person to whom this man owes money, I would think you might take an interest in seeing him again. Perhaps you’d like to make a trade.”

 

“I don’t know what kind of trade you could possibly offer that would have any kind of satisfactory outcome for me or Selena, so you can do whatever you want with that asshole,” Finn says.

 

“Really?” Sergei asks, turning his attention to me. “I can give you this man, who owes you money, and promise no harm will come to Selena. You do not see that as a satisfactory offer? Considering that the alternative is that I kill you and take her anyway?”

 

“Matt,” I say sharply. My husband’s gaze is unfocused but he looks wildly around, finally settling on me.

 

I take a moment to look him over, the man I married, and I realize I feel nothing. I don’t necessarily want him hurt, but I also feel nothing. He is not a person I know anymore, if I ever knew him at all.

 

“I don’t know what you think you’re accomplishing here, but Matt is not a part of my life anymore. He walked out, and I’ve moved on,” I say.

 

“Would he have stayed away had he known about the child in your womb?” Sergei asks.

 

Matt struggles against his captor a bit, then. His eyes are wild as he comes to life. His voice cracks when he asks, “Child?”