CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Journey
It looked the same.
Same sidewalk.
Same concrete steps.
Same enclosed bike rack that hurt my heart to look at.
The wind blew, reminding me that it was February now. Not the warm late May day when I last stood at the foot of my building.
“Are we going in?”
I smiled over to my sister. “I told you, all of our stuff is probably gone and someone else lives here now.”
Jaz nodded, and I could see how sad that made her. It made me sad too.
“But like I promised, we’ll ask and see if they stored any of our old stuff.” I squeezed her against me. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Linking our hands together, we plodded up the steps for what was probably the last time.
Whew.
Walking up them now was certainly different. I rubbed my hand over my huge belly and felt the baby kick in return.
A baby boy.
A little Nash or a little Grant, I didn’t know.
I followed Jasmine to the front door, but when she pulled to open it, it was locked.
“That’s weird.”
I looked around, and sure enough, Grant had secured the front, and there was a panel of buttons by the door. Each was neatly labeled with the apartment number. The first button said “Super.”
Please don’t be Charlie. Please don’t be Charlie.
I pushed the button, and a woman’s voice came through the box. “May I help you?”
“Hi, this may be really weird, but my sister and I used to live here and—”
“Miss Walker?”
I looked at Jasmine. We were officially the Cannon sisters now. We were able to keep our first names during protective custody, but the last name needed to go for security reasons. But now that all the bad guys were dead, I didn’t think it would hurt to confirm our old identity. “Yes.”
The door buzzed. “Come in. Come in out of this chill. I’ll be with you in one moment.”
I followed Jasmine inside and looked around. The lobby had gotten a fresh coat of paint and the wooden floors gleamed.
True to her word, it was about one minute before a grandmotherly type woman joined us, smiling big.
“Thank you,” I said to the woman who was now frowning at my belly. In an instant, her smile was back in place and she was meeting my eyes again. “My sister and I had to leave suddenly last year.”
She nodded, her expression grave. “I heard about that, dear. I’m just so glad you and Jasmine here are free of that whole mess.”
The baby kicked, and I stretched my back, which was starting to ache. It was weird that she knew so much about us. But the shooting had probably been the local gossip for months.
“Thank you. It’s good to be back. The thing is, we were hoping that some of our belongings might still be here, maybe in storage?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh honey. They’re not in storage at all.” My heart sank, and she must have noticed because she added, “Follow me.”
Instead of walking up the steps, she led us to the elevator. He got it fixed after all.
On the third floor, we followed the supervisor to 3C. I looked at Jasmine and she looked at me while the older lady searched for the key.
When she pushed the door open, I gasped.
It was exactly the same.
“Mr. Sommerfield has a housekeeper come in once a week to keep everything dusted, so it’s ready to move back in to whenever you want.”
Jaz went straight to her bed and flopped down, arms and legs spread.
The super nodded at the table by the door. “Mr. Sommerfield also wanted me to let you know that he wrote you a letter.” She smiled, and her gaze dropped to my bulging stomach again. “Well, there’s actually several of them in that drawer.”
Stepping over to the drawer she indicated, I pulled it open and my heart squeezed. Indeed, there were many. A whole drawer full of them. My name and the date on each envelope.
“Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you so much.” My eyes began to burn. “For your kindness.”
She patted my hand and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Feeling overly warm, I shrugged out of my coat and smoothed my shirt over my belly. Unable to wait, I pulled the letters out. There were at least thirty, I realized, taking them over to the sofa to read.
I began with the oldest. It was difficult to read. His normally neat handwriting was a scrawl across the page.
Where are you? Are you okay? I’m going insane.
The next few letters were similar, and my heart squeezed hard in my chest, forcing me to bend over to help with the ache.
After a couple months, the handwriting was less urgent, and the letters became more thoughtful.
The moment I first saw you, right here in this apartment, I knew something special had come into my life. And it scared me. Terrified me. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone… I’ll tell you more about it another day… so I tried to hold you at arm’s length. It wasn’t possible, so I forced myself to be okay with you dating others. It gave me a buffer for my heart.
When we expanded our relationship to include Nash, I thought that was a buffer too. On the day you left, I had wanted to tell Nash that I couldn’t do it anymore. The open relationship. I wanted you to be mine alone. What I now believe you overheard was Nash and I joking about me buying you off. Because I have paid other women to do so. But I wouldn’t have done that to you. Never you.
I’m not a religious man, but I pray every day to see you again.
Tears streamed down my face as I opened one letter and then another, and then the next. Jasmine came to sit beside me, but she didn’t ask questions. She just lent her loving support.
“Let me rub your back,” she said. “You keep holding it.”
While Jaz rubbed, I continued to read. Some letters spoke of the lengths he was going through to find me. Some just mourned my loss. In one he told me of losing his family on his birthday so many years ago. He told me of the guilt he’d carried. How he couldn’t open himself up to loving anyone again because of it.
Until you.
I wish I were saying these words to you personally, but they’ve been living in my heart for too long now.
I love you.
And if I ever get to see you again, please let me show you how much.
By the time I got to the last letter dated yesterday, I didn’t think I had any tears left. I was wrong.
This morning, hope filled my heart for the first time in months. You’re free. I saw it in the news. I don’t know how that will look. I don’t know when you’ll be released to live your life without this threat hanging over it. But when you do… please come back to me.
I need you.
I need Jasmine.
Please, Journey.
I love you. Let me love you both.
When I pressed the letter to my chest, Jaz asked, “Is that the last one?”
My head was in my sister’s lap, and she was rubbing my back with one hand, stroking my hair with another. “Yeah.”
My belly squeezed, and I closed my eyes against the pain. I was dehydrated. I needed something to drink. But I was just too tired to get up. To move. To do anything but think.
Would Grant still feel the same when he saw me like this? Although I’d carefully applied coco butter, I had stretch marks. And boobs. Maybe that would make up for them.
“Are you going to call him?”
“I need to.”
When I was under protective custody, it was easy to not let Grant and Nash know one of them would be a father. Contacting them was potentially very dangerous, and I couldn’t put them in that danger.
But now…
Groaning, I pushed myself up and rolled off the sofa to waddle over to the phone in my purse. My lips were so dry they felt like sand on my face.
Pulling out my new cell, I eyed the fridge, wondering if there was at least one bottle of water to help with this burning thirst.
When the door banged open, it sounded like a shotgun going off in the room. I whirled and would have fallen if the chair hadn’t been there for me to hold on to.
Grant rushed in, his eyes wide and frantic. They locked on me just as Nash ran in behind him.
The super must have called him. I should have expected that.
Both men just stared at me in all my heavily pregnant glory.
And as if on cue, my water broke.