Page 87 of Quiet Beautiful Things

I’m pretty sure I let out an audible snort. “Hardly,” I sign.

He looks at me blankly, so I fingerspell it.

He laughs and pulls me close, tilting his head so I can see his lips in the light from outside the door. “I think you are. Maybe you just don’t want to be.”

It wasn’t a question, so I don’t provide an answer.

Blake: It’s settled then. You’ll come.

Though I don’t text him back, someone else clearly does. His eyes are glued to his phone. And he doesn’t look happy.

I put a hand on his arm. “Okay?” I ask when he looks over.

He shakes his head. “No. Not okay,” he signs. Then he hands me his phone.

My entire body clenches when I see who it’s from. I recognize the name from when he told me Maisy’s story.

Unknown number: Blake, this is Lucinda Wilcox. I got your contact info from a social worker. I’ve been going back and forth on if I should do this, but my counselor seems to think it’s a good idea. I’d like you to bring Maisy to the city on Sunday. It’s family weekend. I’ve attached the address. Come between noon and four.

Suddenly, I become protective. Of Maisy. Ofhim. She wants to see the daughter she neglected and the guy she kept her from all those years. The nerve of her to even ask.

“Sorry,” I sign, handing his phone back.

Blake: That’s what SHE should be saying. Sorry I neglected our kid. Sorry I didn’t tell you about her. Sorry I’m such a fucking loser. Who does she think she is texting me out of nowhere demanding I bring Maisy to see her?

“Do you have to take her?” I sign.

Blake: I don’t know. Maybe not. My lawyer told me I’d have to wait for Lucinda to get out of rehab and go before a judge to see what would happen in the custody case. I had no clue she’d ask to see Maisy before then.

“If you take her, I could come. You know, to help Maisy communicate and to be an impartial party to your meeting.” I have to fingerspell several words, but it seems he gets it, and I’m pleased.

Blake: Impartial, huh? Do you really think you could be impartial when it comes to Maisy? I’m just not sure what to do. She’s been doing so well. I don’t want it to mess with her head. Maisy doesn’t ever ask about her mom.

“Maybe she doesn’t know how to ask.”

“Whose side are you on here?” he signs.

“Yours.”

Blake touches my arm and looks out into the other room. He glances back. “Someone is at your door.”

I bolt up in bed.Someone is at my door?At eleven o’clock on a Friday. One who’s inside the building without me having to buzz them up? Sickness paws away at my insides. Could it be Grant? Has he found Tara and come after me?

Blake squeezes my hand. “You stay. I’ll get it.”

I rear back, swiveling my head forcefully.

He looks down at his nakedness and laughs, thinking that’s why I didn’t agree. “I’ll get dressed first.”

I pound on the bed to get his attention. When he looks over, I sign, “No.”

“Why not? Unless you think it’s your other boyfriend.”

At the moment, I’m too scared to unpack that sentence. His pants are already on when I get up to stop him, but then I realize I’m naked too. By the time I throw on a robe, he’s left the bedroom. Almost on instinct, I race to my bedroom closet, quickly dial the combo on the lockbox, and retrieve the gun, checking to make sure it’s loaded.

I stick my head around the corner, ready to defend both myself and Blake from Grant. My hand shakes a mile a minute, so I’m certain I would have terrible aim. But at least I’ll be able to make a stand.

I almost accidentally pull the trigger when Blake comes back and runs right into me. Or more accurately, right into the gun. His eyes go maniacally wide, and he says something I don’t make out, before he carefully takes the gun from my trembling hands, guides me back to the bed, and sits me down. He empties the chamber, sets the gun on my dresser, and picks up his phone.

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