Page 9 of Twisted Fate

Charlie criedwhen it was time for Delilah to leave. She held on tightly to the woman who’d birthed her, begging her not to go.

“I’ve had you to myself all day,” Delilah crooned sweetly, brushing a rogue curl from my daughter’s face. “I think your daddy misses you and wants to spend time with you.” Charlie pouted but her gaze flickered toward me. “Besides, I’m coming back in two days,” she declared, holding up two fingers. “And we will get to spend the whole day together,” she promised, drawing out and emphasizing the word “whole.”

“Okay,” Charlie relented, hanging her head in defeat. They shared one last hug, and I walked Delilah to the door.

“What time should I be here Monday Morning?” She asked, slipping her bag onto her shoulder.

“Let’s shoot for 8:00.” That would give her time to get settled in and ask any questions she might have before I headed off to work.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

I watched as she pulled away from the curb before heading to the kitchen to prepare dinner. It was a good thing Charlie loved spaghetti since it was one of the few things I knew how to fix. Some nights, our dinner consisted of frozen or boxed meals, and sometimes it was take-out. Sarah had been the cook. She taught me to make a few things and I could grill meat, but a chef I was not. Charlie didn’t seem to care, though. Like most kids her age, she would live off chicken nuggets and mac and cheese if I let her.

When it was time to get ready for bed, I went to Charlie’s room to get clean pajamas to put on after her bath. Delilah’s citrusy scent lingered long after she was gone. It was crisp and clean as opposed to warm and sweet like I was used to. I wasn’t sure how I would cope with having another woman’s scent in my house after so many years of Sarah’s perfume. It was a weird thing to think about, but that smell was tied to so many happy memories. I didn’t want it to fade away, and I certainly didn’t want it to be replaced.

I shook away those thoughts, unwilling to succumb to the darkness settling inside my soul. That was what grief did to you if you let it. It consumed your entire being, filling you up with hopelessness and despair. We would get through this. Charlie and me. I just had to keep reminding myself of that. No matter what, we had each other. And nothing could come between us.

8

Delilah

I arrivedat Vance’s house just before 8:00 on Monday morning. My arms were loaded down with a box full of supplies I would need to begin teaching Charlie. In addition to my role as her nanny, I would also be providing her preschool education.

I bent my knee, lifting my leg to prop the heavy box on so I could knock. I didn’t want to ring the doorbell in case Charlie was still asleep. The door swung open not a minute later, and I nearly dropped the box when I saw what awaited me on the other side.

Vance wore a dark gray pinstripe suit that was expertly tailored to his body. The top of his shirt had been left unbuttoned and his tie hung loosely around his neck as though I’d caught him in the middle of dressing. Dark framed glasses perched atop his straight nose, his sharp jaw smooth and clean shaven. I couldn’t deny that Vance was incredibly handsome. I could certainly see what drew my cousin to him.

“Come in,” he welcomed, motioning me inside. I stepped into the foyer, letting him shut the door behind me. “What’s all that?” he asked, pointing to my wares.

“Just some things to get us started.” I shrugged.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll carry that upstairs,” he said, peering past me to a mirror hanging on the wall next to the front door. I stepped aside to ensure I wasn’t blocking his view as he fiddled with the tie. He tried—and failed—a couple times to get the knot just right. This must’ve been something Sarah had done for him since he seemed to be all thumbs when he tried to do it himself.

I placed the box on the floor and stepped closer to him. “May I?” I asked, motioning to the tie. He eyed me wearily for a moment, surprise and uncertainty flitting in his eyes.

“I still haven’t gotten the hang of this yet,” he admitted as I lifted my fingers and smoothed out the fabric. It was soft and cool under my hands, most likely the highest quality silk. I gave him a lopsided grin as I set to work.

I was almost finished when he asked, “Where did you learn to do that?” He most likely knew my father left when I was young and even when he was around, he never wore a suit. I swallowed hard as memories from the last time I did this rose to the surface.

“I dated a guy once who wore a lot of ties. He taught me.” My skin grew cold as I thought about him, the man who’d completely derailed my life with his heinous and deplorable actions. He was the reason I was here. If it hadn’t been for him, I never would’ve gotten pregnant. I wouldn’t have given my baby up to Sarah and Vance.

My body trembled as flashes from that night came back to me. I’d done so well keeping them at bay the last couple years, but just thinking of him brought them back. He’d been invading my thoughts since Sarah’s funeral, but it had been worse since Saturday. I dreamed of him that night after I got home from my visit with Charlie and woke in a puddle of sweat, my chest heaving with every ragged breath I took.

Would seeing her every day keep those memories at the forefront of my mind? Would spending so much time with her undo all the hard work I’d done over the last three years? I was in a good place, but I worried I’d jeopardized that by taking this job.

“Delilah.” Vance’s concerned face entered my field of vision. “Are you okay? You’re shaking and pale as a ghost.” I looked up into his worried blue eyes. I couldn't tell him what was really wrong. Nobody knew what Chadwick Townsend had done to me. I had to think fast to keep from spilling that long held secret.

“I think my blood sugar just dropped. I-I should probably eat something,” I said as my stomach lurched. Food was the last thing on my mind right now, but I had to come up with something plausible to explain the state I was in.

Vance led me to the kitchen and pulled out a chair. I sank down onto the cushioned seat as he went to the pantry and pulled out a granola bar. He handed it to me, and I shakily tore into the wrapper.

“Does that happen a lot?” he asked, concern knitting his brow.

I shook my head as I chewed a tiny piece of the bar.

“Sarah had bouts of hypoglycemia,” he said, his expression forlorn, voice so low I could barely hear him. “She had to keep snacks on her at all times. I used to tease her about it, saying she was like a toddler always needing a snack.” One side of his lip turned up at the happy memory, and grief twisted in my gut. They’d been so happy. They were the perfect couple and the best choice of parents for my little girl.

No. I couldn’t think of it that way. She wasn’t mine. She belonged to Vance and Sarah. She was a Carrington. They’d given her the strong, healthy family I couldn’t.

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