April
It had all happened so quickly. Well, that was my excuse, at least. Truthfully, I could’ve put a stop to me and Jason hooking up. But I didn’t. And now I was paying the price.
How dumb had I been to think I’d be able to hook up with my boss, to hook up with the man I’d been coerced into betraying, and think it would be like a one-night fling with some guy from Tinder? I mean, not that I’d ever done anything like that before.
Through it all, I found myself thinking about that. Unattached sex was far from my “thing.” The few guys I’d been with before had been men I’d dated. Whatever was going on between Jason and me, it was far from dating.
I had no idea what it was. But it was a mistake—of that I was sure.
And what the hell was I supposed to do now? There’s no way to screw your boss and go back to the way things were before. So, I’d acted distant to him. It wasn’t the most mature strategy in the world, but it was all I could think to do while I gave myself time to figure out my feelings.
Were they feelings? Jason was about the most attractive man I’d ever seen, sure, but was it something more than that? He was confident, he was assertive, and most importantly, he was a loving father who’d do anything for his little girl.
But he was also a criminal.
All of this ran through my head as I made my way down 90th Street that afternoon. Jason had taken the afternoon off to spend a little time with Willa, so I volunteered to head to the store and grab a few things for dinner that night. I was eager to get out of the house and have a little time to come to terms with things.
The sun was out, a slight chill in the air. Everyone around me seemed to be so carefree, able to enjoy the Sunday afternoon in the city. And I could do anything but relax. I’d taken an already complicated, life-or-death situation and made it even worse.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I took my time at the store, picking out ingredients along with a few other odds and ends. Right when I was done paying, my phone chimed in my purse. My stomach sank. I didn’t know who it was, but in my situation, any news seemed to be bad news.
I hurried out, slinging the grocery bags over my arm. I stepped off the sidewalk and took out my phone.
It was a text from an anonymous number.
“Doing a little Sunday shopping?”
My heart raced as I typed up my response.
“Who is this?”
“Someone keeping an eye on you. Busy?”
“Just tell me what you want.”
“Someone wants to meet with you. And I have a feeling you want to meet with him.”
I knew they were talking about Michael.
“Where is he? Is he all right?”
The world around me turned into a blur.
“He’s fine. Eager to see you, too.”
“Then quit screwing around and tell me where he is.”
I was equal parts eager and angry, and I had the sick feeling that whoever was on the other end was enjoying screwing with me.
“Birch Coffee. Ten minutes.”
The bags still hanging from my arm, I looked up the address of the coffee shop and started off in that direction.
Michael was OK. As I made my way there I tried to reassure myself with this bit of good news. My legs pumped under me as I crossed one block then another, soon arriving at the glass front of the cafe. I hurried inside and scanned the crowd of customers. Toward the back, in the far left corner of the place, was my brother. His eyes flicked up as he spotted me, and I rushed over to him as quickly as I could without arousing suspicion.
“Oh my god,” I said. “Michael!”