Page 60 of Hush Money

“Evidently,” I say, scowling. “Where’s the harem?”

“I gave them the night off. And that’s rich, considering I’m not the only one around here with more than one woman in my life.”

“Fuck you,” I say mildly, my attention reverting to the cottage.

“You want me to go get her for you? Put you out of your misery, Romeo?”

I admit, the idea has some appeal. But desperate as I feel now, things haven’t sunk low enough for me to rely on this clown for any sort of a romantic intervention. “I’ll get it figured out.” I hesitate, remind myself of the advice that I just gave myself, then decide to mention it anyway. “She says I’m controlling.”

A snicker. “So she sees right through to your black soul. And…?”

My morale drops another fifty notches or so. Still, I plow ahead. “And that I’m suffocating her.”

“Are you?”

Let’s just say that a strong denial eludes me. And that I hoped for a bit more outrage on my behalf. “I’m trying to keep her safe and close.”

That kills his residual amusement. “You don’t think she’s in physical danger, do you?”

I think that over. I really don’t. Ravenna is the most controlled person I know. Her mask slips are few and far between. While she does show the occasional flares of rage, they pass quickly. I’ve never known her to be violent. Even so, I can’t shake this generalized feeling of dread. “Let’s just say I didn’t like the way Ravenna looked at her the other night when I kicked her out.”

“Speaking of, how goes the divorce?”

My entire body clenches at this additional sore subject. “I talked to my lawyer earlier. He’s reached out to her a couple of times, but it’s been radio silence.”

Roman shrugs. “She can’t hide forever.”

“Here’s hoping.”

He gives me a bracing clap on the back. “I’m off to take a shower. Get your shit together. I like Tamsyn. She seems good for you.”

“You’re not wrong.” I shoot another involuntary glance at the cottage. The flickering blue light is gone from around the window, which means that she’s probably going to bed. I devoutly hope that she’s as lonely for me as I am for her right now. “See you.”

“Later,” Roman says.

I continue down the stone path around to the pool, which is another one of my sanctuaries. There’s always been something soothing about the potted flowers and swaying grasses. The scents of lavender and chlorine. The green market umbrellas, rattan furniture and strategic illumination inside the gently lapping blue water. It’s like my own little slice of a Tahitian night. Maybe if I swim a couple hundred laps, I’ll wear myself out enough to fall asleep sometime tonight.

Here’s hoping.

I grab my goggles and a towel from the storage basket off in one corner, select a lounge chair near the deep end, toss my towel onto it and quickly ditch my shirt and shoes. A bounce or two on the diving board and I dive in, slicing cleanly into the water with barely a splash, the way I’ve done millions of times before. Then I quickly find my stroke, freestyling it down to the other end and flip-turning it to come back.

It’s soothing. Refreshing. Too bad it doesn’t clear my head.

A couple more laps and my thoughts zero in on my big issue for the night: how did I fuck up so badly? My inner voice told me not to summon Dr. Sharma. Warned me that Tamsyn wouldn’t appreciate my trying to finagle a nearby job for her. But I plowed ahead and did it anyway, like the dumbass that I clearly am.

I blame my fierce need to keep her safe. Which is now locked in a death battle with her fierce need for independence.

Another flip turn and my brain flashes back to seeing her with the baby earlier. That was a surprise, wasn’t it? More surprising? The primal reaction inside me: Yes. Now. That. Need.

I didn’t see that coming. Nor can I un-see it now that it’s planted itself in the middle of my brain.

I’ve been stumbling along from moment to moment, with no real plan other than to get rid of Ravenna and not let Tamsyn go. But now I’ve seen a different glimpse of the future. A possible future. A life here at Ackerley with Tamsyn and our kids at the center of it. A baby in the nursery to start. Actually, fucking Tamsyn with the intention of making a baby to start.

My gut contracts with longing; I’m positive I’ve never had such a powerful, visceral reaction to anything in my life. Tamsyn with a baby belly. Yes. A baby in the nursery. Kids laughing in the treehouse and splashing in the pool with me. Holidays and travel, and even the bland day-to-day of school runs and homework with Tamsyn’s smiling sunshine glowing brightly over it all. YES.

Another brain flash, this one back to her putting the signet ring on my hand. My imagination is only too eager to put a flowing white veil on her head and swap out my dad’s ring for a wedding band. I see her glowing happiness and feel my own, right here and now in the pool.

The images are all so vivid, wonderful and unsettling (since when do I long for this kind of daddy domesticity?) that I misjudge the distance to the wall and careen into it, nearly breaking a wrist and catching a mouthful of water that almost makes me hack up a lung. Nothing like a reminder of my current situation. So, okay. That’s my signal to call it a night. I have no idea how long I’ve been out here, but it’s been a while. Time for me to get out before I get a cramp and drown myself, thereby making all these pressing issues irrelevant.

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