“I’ll work something out.”
“What? I want specifics.”
“I’ve got nine months to save up. I’m sure I can find a job somewhere.”
She grins, clicking her fingers. “Mom’s still at the drive through. Always says there’s work there if I went back.”
“Shit, Maddy. Are we really going to do this?”
“You suggested it. Having second thoughts? Realizing you love Mr. Baby Daddy?”
I shake my head. “Lust is not love, big difference. I wanted a fuck. Ended up all fucked up. How’s that for irony?”
She takes a scoop of ice cream and lingers on it, her brow furrowing as she thinks. “You want to do this, we will,” she says eventually. “I’m getting sick of working for that asshole, anyway. He can bake his own damn bread, get up at four in the morning to do it for a change. We’re going back home, baby.”
The sound of the word baby makes my hands go under the blanket. I place them flat on my stomach.
A baby is growing inside there. Two lines on a test. Pregnant with Jack Greene’s baby. Possible murderer. Definite lying thief. One hundred percent ghosting asshole. A man I never want to see again.
And also the man I’ve dreamed about every single night since he walked out on me.
6
“It’s all gone,” he says, like it’s a fact I just have to accept. “You went away for like two years. I was only supposed to have it in lock up for six months, Jack. I tried to contact you, but I got nothing.”
“So you burned it up?”
“I left it there. What was I supposed to do? I had no idea if you were dead or what. Shit, you’re lucky I didn’t spend it.”
I control my anger. “You had one job, Trevor. Look after my money. I don’t want to hear that it’s gone. I don’t want to hear how it’s my fault for not getting in touch. How you are going to get it back is something I want to hear.
He tugs at his cufflinks, then straightens his row of three pens. The desk is spotless apart from the scorched wad of banknotes sitting between us. I know it’s my imagination, but I swear I can still see smoke rising off them.
“There’s nothing to get back,” he says, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, Jack. I really am.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, picking up the bundle and watching the edges crumble away to nothing. “This is all that’s left of my money?” I hurl it at him and he flinches.
“It’s not my fault,” he replies, sliding his chair back from his desk, picking up the bundle and placing it back in the drawer like nothing happened. “I didn’t start the fire.”
“You told me I ought to keep all my funds in cash. Told me it was less traceable that way.”
“Itisless traceable.”
“A fuck of a lot more flammable, though. You didn’t mention that part to me, did you?”
“I didn’t start the fire, Jack.”
“So you keep saying. You think that absolves you of any responsibility? Find out who did.”
He gets to his feet, walking over to the drinks cabinet and getting out a bottle. He grabs two glasses and fills them. I notice the tremble in his fingers. He’s afraid I’ll kill him. To be fair to him, I’m still undecided. I bled for that money. My entire fortune burned up in an unexplained fire.
“The whole warehouse is gone,” he says. “It’s not just you. I’ve got a dozen clients as pissed as you are. I’ll be lucky if I’m alive this time next week.”
“You told me there was no way I could lose my money. You guaranteed me it would be safe. Fireproof building, you said. Didn’t need to keep moving it anymore.”
“I didn’t know the sprinklers weren’t working. Please, Jack. I’m trying to work with you here.”
He sets a glass in front of me. I ignore it, watching as he downs his liquor. I want to rip his head off. “You got insurance, right? Tell me you got some insurance.”