Page 77 of Bidding War

“That sounds great. Let's do it.”

She beams at me, and I understand why Daniel thinks that she's perfect. Even if she weren’t pulling off some con on him, I could still understand it.

After dinner, we hit up a romcom. Since I've been the one neglecting her, I let her have the choice of the movie. And even though I am trying to focus on the present, I checked my phone a few times when we were in the movie. Still no response from Anderson.

His radio silence has made me a little nervous.

“What did you think of the movie?” she asks as we walk out.

“It was okay, I guess.”

She grins at me, giving me that patient smile of hers. “Go ahead. What plot holes were eating at you?”

I laugh because she knows me way too well. “Okay, please tell me how it was that a girl who grew up in the US South has a West Coast accent. And when the little boy went missing, and they had to chase him down, why didn't they call the cops? Also, if the vacuum of space can rip off the door, then how is it that the guy could hang on to the ladder like that and resist the vacuum of space?”

“Are you done yet?”

“For now.”

Callie drops me off at my building, and I go up to my apartment. When I don’t find Anderson there, I check my phone again. Still nothing. Worry roils in my gut. Given his work with Moss, I can’t stop thinking about what could be going wrong.

I undress and shower, then check my phone again. Still nothing. If I had Mosses number, I would reach out to him. But I don’t. His work is violent, I know that much. What if … what if …

An angry thought sits in my stomach like a hot rock and a life raft together. What if his father has found a way to keep us apart? I’d rather that be the case than the alternative because the alternative is too painful to think about. But I can’t stop myself from thinking about it.

What if something went wrong on one of his jobs with Moss?

-

42

ANDERSON

Abeeping stirs me. I don't recognize it. Why is it so fucking bright in here? The light burns through my closed eyelids. There is no possible way I ended up in heaven. Maybe I'm surrounded by the fires of hell. That feels appropriate.

But when I open my eyes, I find it's neither.

To my left, there is a big window. Someone left the blind up, and it's morning. Scanning the room, I find it's pretty nice. A sofa sits below the window. Across from me is a pair of chairs. Everything is in soft blues and grays. A sniffle catches my ear.

“Anderson, honey? Can you hear me?” It's a woman's voice off to my right.

I glance over and find my mother. Her sweater set is askew. She has a few hairs out of place. I don't think I've ever seen her this disheveled. When I open my mouth, it feels crusty. “Mom?”

“Oh, my baby.” She weeps, embroidered handkerchief in hand to wipe her eyes. She clutches onto my right forearm like she's fighting the urge to jump into the bed next to me. “What can I do? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Ice chips? Water?”

I nod for water, and she holds up the cup for me. It has one of those bendy straws, so I don't have to stretch my neck. I reach for the cup. “I can do it my?—'

But in the middle of the reach, I feel it. The wince hits me the same time as the pain does.

Mom chides, “Let me do this.”

I give up and let her hold the water cup for me. I've never tasted water that good. She sets the cup back down on the table next to me. It's then that I see her eyes catch the light. They're so red. “It's a good thing we're in a hospital.”

She gives me a quizzical look.

“Those bags under your eyes need medical attention.”

She snorts a laugh, then taps my arm with her hand. Her version of a swat. “You watch that smart mouth of yours. It gets you into trouble.”

---