Page 20 of Twisted Fate

“No, not like that, sweetie. But it’s still not safe for you to run away from me.” I smoothed my hand over her hair as we walked back to where Kelly and Gracie waited. I sat on the bench where I’d left her teddy and handed her the bear. She greedily clutched him to her chest. “Promise me you won’t run away like that again, okay?” I kept my voice even and calm so I wouldn’t scare her.

“I pwomise,” she declared, snuggling her bear. We left after that, promising to meet up with our companions again. I wasn’t sure if Kelly truly wanted another playdate after what just transpired or if she was just being polite.

Once we were in the car, I pulled out my phone and shot Vance a text.

Me:Can you talk?

Instead of a response,my phone rang a minute later. I picked up immediately, and Vance’s gruff voice greeted me on the other end.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Everything’s fine,” I assured him. I hadn’t meant to freak him out, but he told me he wanted to know when things like this happened. I relayed as much to him, and he let out an audible sigh of relief.

I recounted the events from the museum, including what she had said about her mom. He cursed under his breath, and I imagined him rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses like he did when he was frustrated or stressed.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be sure to have my mom mention this to her therapist at her next appointment.” After her initial evaluation, Vivian would be taking Charlie to most of her therapy sessions on Tuesday mornings. Vance’s work schedule wouldn’t always allow him the time to take her himself, and I hated that for him. I knew how badly he wanted to be there for her.

After we ended the call, I drove Charlie and me back to her house and put her down for a nap. Once she was settled in, I went about straightening up while she slept. I checked the laundry room to see if there were clothes that needed to go in the wash. Vance usually brought down his and Charlie’s hampers and started a load before I arrived, and I tried to finish up the rest during nap time. He never asked me to do it, but I knew he appreciated the help. After the mopping incident, he’d chilled out about me doing extra things around the house and seemed relieved to have some of that responsibility off his shoulders.

Sure enough, there was an array of brightly colored garments in the washer when I opened it. I tossed those in the dryer and turned it on. The second hamper was full of darker hued, masculine clothes that smelled of Vance’s cologne. I tried to ignore the enticing scent, but it surrounded me as I pulled a few shirts from the pile. Lifting a pair of jeans, I started to throw them in but thought better of it. He never emptied his pockets before putting his pants in the hamper (something I learned the hard way after washing a pair with a pen in the pocket that damn near ruined the whole load). My brother was the exact same way, so I concluded it was a guy thing.

Slipping my hand into the back pockets, I came up empty. The front pockets were a different story. I rolled my eyes as my fingers closed around some loose change on one side and a few folded up papers in the other, most likely receipts from his foray with his friends Friday night. I pulled out the papers and started to throw them in the wastebasket, but something caught my eye.

A bright red lipstick print on a white slip of paper had me gasping in surprise. I knew I should mind my business and not investigate. I could simply pretend I hadn’t seen it and throw it in the trash. Honestly, I’d be doing him a favor. That lip print could only indicate one thing, and it was something Vance wasn’t ready for.

I deliberated for a long moment before my curiosity got the best of me. Unfolding the paper, my fears were confirmed. There was a woman’s name and a phone number scrawled across it in neat, feminine script.

19

Delilah

My first thoughtwas to wad the paper up and bury it in the bottom of the trash can, never to be found again. But I couldn’t do that. If Vance had kept her number, maybe that meant he was interested. Who was I to keep him from moving on if that was what he wanted? So instead, I neatly folded it back the way it was and returned it to the stack of receipts. I would simply hand them to him when he got home and let him decide what to keep and what to throw away.

It was none. Of. My. Business.

I had to keep reminding myself of that.

So why did it feel like a betrayal? For some reason, it made my chest ache to think of him with another woman. However, I wasn’t willing to dive in too deep as to why.

When Charlie awoke, we resumed our classwork from the morning. We hadn’t gotten much accomplished with the excitement over our playdate looming, but now that she’d napped, she was more focused. When it was time to start dinner, Charlie followed me to the kitchen to help me prepare the meal.

I’d just shut off the stove when I heard the front door shut and a moment later, Vance came into the room. “Daddy,” Charlie squealed and ran to him. Like always, he scooped her up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. It was clear how much he loved his little girl. I was finally starting to see just how strong a parent’s love could be now that I was experiencing it too.

“Hey, Delilah.” He greeted me with his normal cordiality. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d greeted the woman who slipped him her number with the same attitude or if he’d been more inviting toward her.

Stop it, I internally scolded myself. He was free to do whatever—andwhoever—he wanted.

“Hey,” I replied, busying myself with slicing the chicken to put on Charlie’s plate. I was about to make a break for it when he spoke.

“Are you staying for dinner tonight?” His question caught me off guard, and I fumbled for an excuse. I couldn’t do it tonight. Not after what I found in his pocket.

“I can’t tonight. Mom’s working, and if I’m not home to feed Deacon, he’ll just eat snack cakes and Doritos.” I hated using my brother as a scapegoat, but it was all I could think of on the fly.

“Oh, okay,” he said, none the wiser. “Maybe another time.”

“Sure,” I promised, gathering my things. Heart beating wildly, I grabbed the stack of papers off the counter. “Here,” I said and handed it to him. “These were in your pockets when I did the laundry.” He took them from me and looked down, mumbling his thanks. I’d strategically placed the paper with the lipstick print on the bottom so I wouldn’t have to see his reaction. I made my escape while he studied the notes in his hand. I was almost to the front door when he called my name.

“Lilah!” I shuddered at the sound of my shortened name on his lips. For some reason, it sounded too personal, too intimate, like something a lover would whisper in my ear before kissing my neck. “Wait just a second,” he requested, coming into the foyer. I made the mistake of facing him fully and immediately regretted it. Guilt and concern warred over his divinely chiseled face.

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