“Very well,” I nod. “You?”
“It was the best sleep I’ve had in ages,” he admits, and I can’t help but hope that I had something to do with it. “I just wanted to tell you that they called me from Marley’s school, and she will be going on a fieldtrip next week. She’s been bugging me to get her this unicorn backpack,” he adds, rolling his eyes playfully. “I was thinking you two could go today and get it for her, so she can take it with her to the fieldtrip.”
“Sure thing,” I smile at how thoughtful he is with Marley. To be honest, that was one of the first things that made him so wonderful. You can judge a man’s character by the way he treats his children, especially his daughter and I’ve never seen a man, apart from my own father, treat his child with such sweet, loving and tender care. That truly speaks a lot.
“I would take her myself,” he adds, “but I can’t seem to get my shit together.”
I resist the urge to chuckle. He usually doesn’t curse, so when he does, this means that he’s really crossing that line which he never does, or at least tries not to but it suits him. Everything suits him. I can’t imagine him doing any wrong.
I guess that means I’m hopelessly in love.
That is what I’m thinking as he looks at me, probably wondering why I’m smiling like such a ditz. We exchange a meaningful glance, as if both of us want to say something that is at the tip of our tongue, but something is preventing us from doing so. Maybe that’s for the better. I know that my conscience isn’t clear, and I can’t tell him how I truly feel about him until the moment I can come clean.
“Well, uhm…” I start, pointing at the kitchen. “I should start getting breakfast ready for Marley.”
“Oh, yes,” he nods several times, taking a step back, as if he were the one blocking my passage, which he wasn’t.
I never thought I’d see the famous, and infamous, Dominic Hart so… awkward. So endearingly awkward. I have to admit, depending on the situation, this is the Dominic Hart that I prefer, not the gloomy, brooding type who keeps to himself.
“Would you like some coffee?” I offer.
“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he replies, lingering on for one moment longer, then turning around and walking back to his room just down the hallway.
The morning passes by like every other morning, in a quick, blurry haze and yet, there is something different about it. We can all feel it. Even Marley, who is usually busy chomping down her pb and j sandwich or pancakes or toast, is now focused on Dominic and me.
I don’t know if it’s me or the kitchen somehow feels smaller. We are all huddled closer together… it’s probably just all in my mind but it feels wonderful.
Dominic is the first one to leave, as usual, and in the following hour I drop off Marley at school. I usually spend this time grocery shopping and doing some cleaning around the house, which Dominic has already emphasized that it isn’t my obligation, but for the money that he is paying me, it just feels unfair for me to be sitting down, doing nothing while I’m on the clock.
That is the usual scenario. Today’s scenario, however, will be a little different. Well, a lot different.
I look around the apartment, wondering where to start. They said to look at something that is easily noticeable. His study is the logical place where I might find something, so I head there.
I’ve only been there several times, and usually with him present. Without him, it feels like a sacred place, filled with wonder and awe. I immediately glance at the desk. It looks so massive, almost as if it might eat you up alive if you sit at it, but when he does it, it’s the perfect size.
There are lots of papers on it, and his Mac is there as well, closed. I wouldn’t dare try to log in. He might notice it. But I could go through the stuff that I see. I take the papers into my hands, making sure to remember exactly how they were. Then, I sit on the sofa by the window, and start going through them. They are just bills, transactions, contracts, nothing that would help me or Dominic.
I put them back where I found them, wondering if I should try his drawers, although the detective said to keep searching through items that are clearly visible. I could always say that they were. After all, it’s just me here.
I feel horribly guilty. I know why I’m here. I know why I’m doing this. Yet, the sole fact that I’m doing it behind his back is making me feel like the worst person in the world. I try to banish that feeling, to remind myself that I’m doing this for him… for us. If there will ever be an us, that is. Hopefully…
I open all the drawers I can find, making sure not to move or change the position of anything I find. I don’t know how I would be able to explain that I was in his study, and worse yet, going through his personal stuff.
It takes me about an hour and by the end of it, I realize that I’m still standing here empty-handed. I don’t know why I thought it would be this easy. It’s silly, really. I will probably spend days trying to find something, weeks even.
I sigh, coming to terms with this fact, that I will need to live with this guilty conscience for a while. I don’t like it, but it’s a burden I must bear.
I look at the desk again, and the pile of papers I went over first seems somehow crooked. I pick it up again, and as I do, a little slip of paper slides out of the whole pile, dropping to the floor.
“Crap,” I murmur to myself, thinking that I have no idea where it was, and I won’t be able to put it back exactly where it was.
Curiously, I check what it is, and to my surprise, I realize it’s a speeding ticket. I know that Dominic received a few of those in the past several months, but it was never anything worrisome. His explanation is that he’s rushing back home to Marley, and sometimes, he goes a bit over the speed limit. It always ends with a fine, but he doesn’t seem to have learned his lesson.
I’m about to put it back inside the pile, when something catches my attention. It’s the date. The exact date when his business rival was kidnapped. My heart flutters with hope. The only time of the day when he’d be driving was morning and evening. In the morning, he’s not really in such a rush to get to work, but in the evening, he is in a rush to get back home.
My eyes skim through the slip of paper, looking for one particular piece of information. The time. The more I read, the more my heart rises all the way up to my throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then, finally… there it is. The time.
“That can’t be…” I say out loud, because if I don’t, I won’t believe it.