“Give her some time. She’ll come around. You have Dex, after all.”
Setting the tumbler down, I pour two more fingers into it. “His birthday is this week.”
A hiss of air fills my ear. “Shitty timing.”
We’re both quiet a few minutes while I think of my little boy, my beautiful bride. Patrick’s back in problem-solver mode.
“Or it could be really good timing,” he says. “It’ll give her a few days to cool off before you see her again. Then you can try talking to her.”
“I want to talk to her now.” The scotch has my insides warm. My anger is soothed, and I want to hold her, kiss her, love her until she forgives me.
“You need to give her space.”
“That’s going to be impossible.” Being in this shitty hotel room is already impossible.
“I know what you can do.” His voice brightens. “Help Toni and Cammie with Princeton. Meet up with them, spend the night, and when you get back, go to Dex’s birthday party.”
I think about what he’s suggesting. At least it will fill these hours. “It’s not a bad idea,” I agree.
“You can get Toni set up in your condo, make sure she knows her way around, introduce her to Stuart and Walt...”
“Us traveling together might attract attention. Reveal her hideout.”
“All the better.” Patrick has an edge in his voice now. “I’d love that fucker to make a move in Princeton. Get Stuart involved, and you won’t have to kill him. Asshat’ll dismember him.”
“Stuart’s pretty ruthless in a fight.” I finish my scotch and look out the window toward the beach. My chest is heavy. I want to be home. Still, I know my partner’s right. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll message Toni and tell her you’ll meet her in Princeton. She’s spending tonight with her sister Nancy and Cammie. She hopes it’ll ease the transition.”
“Great. I’ll get on the road first thing. And Patrick?” He makes a noise in my ear. “Keep your eye on Melissa for me.”
“Just like always. I’m the Guard. I got her covered.”
* * *
The first thing I notice when I enter the condo building in Princeton is Cammie. She’s a tiny little thing, wearing a purple dress with a big white flower pattern on it. Her dark hair is brushed up into a purple bow the size of her head, and she’s holding a saggy pink bunny over one arm.
She seems calm, which is in direct contrast to her mother. Star’s hands flutter over her daughter’s hair every few seconds. She shifts the little girl from one hip to the other, then she digs in her bag and pulls out what looks like a small packet of jellybeans. Just before she hands them to Cammie, however, she pulls them back fast. I enter the double doors and greet Walt, whose eyes are twinkling at this new development, and Star hustles over to me.
“Are jelly beans a choking hazard?” she whispers, blinking huge brown eyes up at me.
“Maybe,” I answer in what I hope is a calming voice. She’s clearly nervous as hell around her child.
“Right.” She nods fast and shoves the plastic package back in her bag. “What the hell was I thinking?” Then she gasps. “Shit!” She gasps again, and grips her mouth with her fingers.
I can’t help it. My insides are shredded, my head hurts from drinking myself to sleep last night, but despite it all, this makes me laugh. She’s a complete screw up as a mom, and she can’t even stop swearing.
Catching her arm, I give it a squeeze. “Relax. She seems okay for now. Cammie’s what? A year old?”
“Ten months.”
“She won’t remember any of this. All she knows is how you feel, so be cool. Let her know you love her.”
She’s blinking fast, and I’m afraid she might cry. Unsure how my own battered insides will respond to that, I catch Walt’s attention.
“Mr. Alexander?” He steps over, ready to serve.
“Walt, this is...” I hesitate, unsure which name we’re using on the record.