Chapter 9

I would resist.

I sat on the toilet for five minutes, practicing diaphragm breathing and meditation. I’d learned the techniques when the first letter had arrived from Shakopee. From my mother.

I could still remember my tears blurring the black ink, staining the paper. As she begged. Begged me to believe her. Begged me to get her out.

My mind grasped for memories of joy. Of love. As I struggled to slow my pulse and calm my body, those memories never came. Every time I pictured her, it was caged behind bars like a pacing lion. Incarcerated. I’d been twelve before I’d understood what that meant. Now, it took everything I had in me not to mention it. Expose it.

Hidden.

Like she would always be.

Like the heroin she’d kept in every nook and cranny of our efficiency apartment downtown. And every nook and cranny of her body as she muled across the border from California to Tijuana.

I never wanted to be her. I never wanted to feel like I’d failed the people around me as thoroughly as she had. I could tell from Gabe’s wardrobe, intelligence and carriage that he hadn’t come from the wrong side of the tracks like I had. Once he found out the truth, he’d run. Far away from the girl with the checkered and sordid past. And no family.

A therapist had taken my mother’s place when it came to guidance, which was probably a good thing, since Deidre would’ve probably screwed me up beyond any hope of salvation if she’d been given the chance. I’d probably be high as a giraffe’s ass if not in the penitentiary myself. She still tried to reach out. The letters arrived weekly, like clockwork. They were in a cardboard box in my closet. All unopened except for that very first one. The one that had shattered my junior high school heart into a million pieces.

I placed my palms on my knees and waited another second. My heart had stopped pounding a mile a minute at least. The throbbing in my temples lessened.

I rose and walked out of the stall, then stood in front of the mirror. My light green eyes were wide with fear, and I’d slapped some pale pink lip gloss on my lips, but they trembled. He was out there, waiting for me to come back.

I brushed my long, wavy blonde hair back and smoothed the tight red dress Kelly had dressed me in for the night. It accentuated my curves, kind of making me feel like I was on display. And there was a lot to display. I knew I shouldn’t wear it, but I’d wanted this one night. One night to feel wanted. Beautiful. Desirable. By the only man who’d ever made me feel that way.

I rubbed my arms to calm the gooseflesh because I couldn’t delay this any longer. I had to go back to him, finish the meal and tell him not to bother me again. The only problem being, he wasn’t really a bother. At all.

I wanted him to bother me all over my bedroom. All over my fevered skin.

“Allegra,” I said in my best scolding tone, glad I was alone in the ladies room. I pinched my cheeks for good measure. “You can handle this.”

Then I walked out of the door and back towards our table.

Gabe’s back was to me, and he had his phone out, pressed to his ear. He gestured with his right hand as he spoke.

I slowed down on my approach. The clink of cutlery on the plates was soft, so was the dull hum, and I could just make out his conversation.

“Are you serious? Yeah, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” He paused and shook his head. “No, I’m not complaining. It’s just,” he broke off and listened for a second, “it’s her. I’m with her.”

A ton of ice water dropped into my stomach, spreading coldness from my belly to my extremities.

“Yeah, I guess. Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up.

I strode forward to meet him, pretending I hadn’t heard him talking about me to a stranger on the other end of the phone. Talking like I was an inconvenience. Or something annoying him tonight. What kind of twisted game was he playing? Or was I just being paranoid?

“There you are,” Gabe said, flashing that smile. All charm and sweetness. It made my insides clench tight. “I was starting to get worried.”

My stomach lurched again. A veiled chastisement at how long I’d kept him waiting. “Here I am,” I replied, then slid into the chair opposite him. I placed my second-hand Coach clutch on top of the table and waited.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wriggling his lips from side-to-side. “I thought you’d gotten sick or something.”

“What? Why?”

“You were in there for a long time, Allegra.”

“Ally,” I corrected, then slipped my bag off the table and into my lap. “No one calls me Allegra.”

“I do,” Gabe corrected. He waved his hand to summon the waiter for the check. “I’m sorry to do this, but something’s come up. An emergency at work. I’ve got to run.”

We hadn’t had the entrees yet, we hadn’t even ordered them, but it was a relief to escape this with my feelings and pride intact. I hadn’t even had to pull the plug myself. Waves of relief should be washing over me. Why then did I feel even sicker? Sure, my female ego had taken a knock, but that was a small price to pay.

“That’s fine. No one understands work emergencies more than I do,” I said shrugging.

“I hope you don’t think this classifies as a proper first date,” he replied, “because it doesn’t. I’ll call you.” He stretched his neck and scratched it.

“Don’t —” I couldn’t take that trite blow-off about calling. Not from him. Not after everything that had transpired to bring us to this restaurant.

“I’m not giving you a line of bullshit.” Gabe leaned in and gazed into my eyes, softening his lips by pressing them together. “You bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed. I like it. It scares me, but I like it. I want to see you again and I won’t take no for an answer.”

The sincerity struck me in the chest. I flattened my hand over it to calm the fluttering of my heartbeat and his eyes followed my hand to the seam where my red dress ended and my cleavage began. “I guess, yeah, okay. You know where to find me.”

“I’d much rather have your number. It’s Stalker 101 that I have to hunt you down at your bakery every time I want to chat,” he said, then barked a laugh.

Tell him no.

Tell him no.

Tell him no.

Instead of following my brains good advice, I found myself opening my clutch, fumbling around inside for my business card. The one I’d been so proud of when I’d created it myself online with gold embossed foil. The same color scheme as the bakery. “I guess you’re right.” I produced the card and slid it across the table, so I wouldn’t have to touch those massive hands.

He caught my wrist and turned it over, then run his thumb across my skin, over the pulse. Thank God for the deep breathing. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Allegra.”

“That’s fine, I mean, it was my pleasure,” I said, but suspicion broiled alongside the nerves. What was this guy’s deal?

Gabe rose, holding the card. He flicked it between his fingers. “I’ll be in touch.”