Chapter 24

24

E LIZABETH

Sunday

Every time he touched me these past few days, I couldn’t not think about the ziplock bag tucked under my bed.

That hasn’t stopped me from enjoying the pleasure he has given me. Every bit. Every touch. Every kiss. Every thrust. Every crying moan at the peak of satisfaction.

Sex was good. And him being there for me was amazing.

Terry always likes to remind me that words are cheap, and it takes supporting actions to believe them.

‘Trust their actions, not their words,’ she’s always said, and his actions are there.

I return his affection with my own, but I’m still tormented by a few loose ends and questions I have no answers for.

That nagging feeling that something is amiss.

I’ve been planning to get to that bag and muster enough courage to go through that woman’s letters.

Something tells me, and it’s not the voice in my head––she’s been quiet lately––that there’s more to his story.

I don’t have time, and frankly, the opportunity to go check on the other man––Ned Sutton––find someone close to him and ask a few questions has vanished.

That time has passed.

I can’t even check the information in the bag.

We’re always together, doing something, and now I’m getting ready to fly to Singapore.

“How’s everything?” he asks, stepping out of my bathroom, all dressed up.

Suit, a fine shirt, designer shoes, no tie.

My eyes go down.

“You dress comfortably. I have a few business people with us on the plane.”

While I’m grateful for having the liberty to dress whichever way I like the idea that we have people with us makes me nervous.

“I will.”

“Good.”

He smiles and leaves a kiss on my hair.

“I’ll be in the kitchen. I need to make a few calls.”

He checks his watch.

“We’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be ready,” I say, pushing up onto my toes to kiss his lips.

Smiling, he winks at me and pivots to the kitchen.

I stare at his broad back before focusing on my suitcase. Everything’s in. I only need a few clothes, my laptop, my tablet, my shoes, and my toiletries.

I wear wool pants, a button-down dress shirt, and a soft sweater.

That will do.

The tension in my chest is a reminder of all the unresolved things traveling with me.

If we leave now and return next week, I’ll be tossing and turning every night, thinking about what I might have missed by not reading those letters.

His voice rings outside as he talks on the phone, and it only takes me seconds to make up my mind.

I crunch down and look under the bed. The box is there. My eyes fly to the door before I pull it out from under the bed.

Suddenly, the house is quiet, and I feel his stare on me.

He’s no longer on the phone.

“What’s that?” he asks from the doorway.

I turn to stone, spinning thoughts.

Shit.

At the last moment, I stifle my reaction and don’t push the box back. That would be incriminating.

Instead, I straighten, with the box in my hand, a winning idea in my head.

“Do you think we can stop by my mother’s house? I need to leave this with her. It’s the money, and I don’t want to leave it here. She might put it to good use.”

A soft smile flashes through his eyes.

He seems proud of me, and I love that feeling.

Under no circumstances do I want to let him down, although I’m playing with things I shouldn’t be playing.

“Sure,” he says. “But we need to leave now.”

ELIZABETH

I call my mother a few times before getting to her place. She’s not answering. David is still on the phone, hopefully not aware of my struggles.

Now I have a box of books with money inside and information that pertains to him.

I send my mother a message.

Me: Are you home? I called you a few times. Please text me back. I hope you’re okay.

A few moments pass.

No reply.

If worse comes to worse, I’ll leave the box inside without an explanation––she’ll have a heart attack––and grab the ziplock bag, which I want to do anyway, despite knowing how risky it is to have it with me.

My phone vibrates with a message.

Terry: I’m getting a mani pedi. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.

My luck.

Me: I’ll drop something off at your place. Don’t freak out.

Send.

She’ll freak out.

My phone rings.

I give David a smile––he is still in the middle of a conversation––and pick up her call.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I’m leaving for Singapore with my boss, and I must leave something with you.”

“Singapore?”

“I told you about it.”

“You said you might. Is that happening so soon? What about your classes?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back at the end of next week.”

“What was it that you wanted to drop off?”

“A box.”

“What box?”

I shift in my seat nervously.

“I can’t talk right now. You’ll see. I’ll leave it in the drawer in the bedroom. Take good care of it. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Wait, wait. I’m nearly finished. How much time do I have?”

“You don’t need to be home, Mom.”

“I want to be home. Tell me.”

Fingers of sweat grab the back of my neck.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there too. Bye.”

Sighing, I put the phone down when David’s hand comes to mine.

“Everything okay?” he mouths to me.

I nod at him, smiling before his focus moves back to his conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s still on the phone when the car pulls up in front of my mother’s place.

Her car is not there, but that doesn’t mean anything.

In a way, I’d rather not have a conversation with her right now. It’s not the best time with him in the limo and the plane waiting on the tarmac.

As soon as the car comes to a full stop, I grab the box and smoothly slide out.

My boots trail the driveway before I halt in front of the main door and look for the key in my bag.

Great. I left it at my place. I walk around the house, heading to the back door. She still keeps a key in the secret nook by the potted plants.

Moments later, I push the door open and stride to the bedroom. A key shifts in a lock, and her voice pierces the air.

“Elizabeth?”

Oh. Here we go.

“I’m here.”

I slip my hand inside, grab the ziplock bag, shove it into my pocket, and turn around to face my mother.

“Look at you,” she says, dropping her bag on the bed. “The car outside… Is that him?”

“Yes. That’s him. Here,” I say, making her shift her focus to the box.

“What’s this?”

“These are a few special books,” I say, lifting the lid casually and pointing to the contents of the box.

“You rushed me out of the beauty salon for a box of books,” she says, smiling incredulously.

I laugh.

“These are not any kind of books,” I say, convinced that what follows next will take her mind away from the books. “It’s what’s inside them that matters.”

“Always.”

“No. I’m serious. Look.”

I flip one of the books open.

“I saved up some money,” I say when her mouth pulls open in surprise. “I want you to have it. The money.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, shifting her gaze to me. “How much is in there?”

“It’s enough. I didn’t count it. Please use it.”

“What about you? And how did you manage to save it up?”

More astonishment slides over her face.

“It’s a long story, and I don’t have time right now to explain. I did it the old way. I just saved it up. I’ve been working for a while.”

She leafs through a book, brand new one hundred bills falling away.

“That’s a lot of money, Elizabeth.”

“For a lot of debt,” I say, leaning to her and kissing her cheek. “Use it to pay off some of those credit cards, or all. I need to go now.”

I pull away from her.

“What about your debt?” she tosses at me while I make a beeline for the door.

“It’s been taken care of. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you when we land so you know I’m okay.”

“Okay,” she says in my wake, her voice heavy with disbelief.

That wasn’t a lie.

He wiped off my debt with the strike of a pen and put some money into my bank account so I don’t stress over everyday living from now on. But I can’t tell her that, or she’ll have a panic attack.

One thing at a time.

Clutching the stash of letters in my pocket, I exit the house, smiling.

Now, let’s wait till I can actually check what’s inside.

I should’ve done this a long time ago.

Maybe it’s nothing, and I fret over nothing.

Who can tell?