Page 51 of Property of Chaos

My aunt glances up at my friend as she lowers herself to perch on an armchair. “I don’t want to put your husband out. We can go elsewhere if it’s easier.”

Marianna waves her off. “He’s fine. He’ll probably head to the club and forget he has a wife until they shut the bar.” She frowns at me. “Take a seat, babe. I’ll get us a drink. What would you like, Evelyn?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” She smiles, peering at me. “I need to let everything settle if you know what I mean.”

I glance down at my shaking hands.Yeah, I know.All my carefully planned questions flew out the window the moment she crumpled on the ground. I’ve been stunned silent since, unsure where to start.

Most awkward car ride ever.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” Marianna sweeps out of the room, leaving me stranded with the first and only family member I’ve seen in nearly two decades.

I should feel more excited about this. Relieved.

All I feel is my fucking pulse point in my neck and the heavy dread begging me to bolt from the situation.

“I’m sorry.” Evelyn’s head hangs, dark-painted lips rolling before she continues. “I didn’t mean to make things more awkward than they already are.” Her words thicken, and I study her hands again, realizing they shake, too. “Rather embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“I think it would be nearly impossible to make things more awkward given the circumstances, don’t you?” I choke out a stunted laugh and move toward the sofa.

Marianna’s house is what you’d expect of the area’s top realtor: enormous rooms with fuck all in them, as though she’s forever stuck in a staged mindset, ready to show buyers through any minute. The plush sofa and two armchairs sit opposite one another, a coffee table that’s more art piece than functional between, and bookshelves on the far wall that house sparsely-placed knick-knacks over actual things to read.

There’s no TV. That has a whole fucking room of its own.

“How are you?”

I lift my head at Evelyn’s question and settle on the sofa, diagonally opposite her. “I can’t really answer that in a few words or less, so I’ll just say okay.”

She nods, hands wrapped around her shoulder bag.

“Would you like me to hang that up for you?” I nod toward the burgundy leather tote.

Evelyn shakes her head. “Gives me something to fidget with.”

I slide my boot across the rug beneath the table, messing up the fibers with the sole. “I get that.”

“He never let me come back,” Evelyn says softly. “After I last saw you. Did you know?”

I lift my chin to search her gaze. “It doesn’t surprise me.”

“I thought…” She sighs, shifting to the forefront of the seat cushion. “When I couldn’t find any trace of you on social media. I just… I didn’t want to think it, but I…”

She fights to say the words. “You thought he might have killed me.” So I do it for her.

“I prayed for less.” Her gaze searches the room, moisture thick on the rim of her lashes. “I thought perhaps he’d trapped you there again. But I didn’t rule out the worst. No.”

“Is that why you, you know…” I wind my hand between us, unable to come up with a word for what she did. Fold? Collapse?

Give in to her emotions?

Evelyn nods. “From relief. Yeah.” Her face crumples. “Why didn’t you ever call me, Vanessa?”

“Same reason.” I itch to pull her dark hair from behind her ear so that it disguises her likeness to him. “Thought there may have been a chance that he’d converted you to his way of thinking.”

“Never.” She chokes out the word as though it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. “He’d have to drag my dead body in there to get me to cross the boundary line.”

“Speaking of dead things…” I reach into the pouch pocket on the front of my hoodie and tug out the letter, reaching across the table to hand it to her.

She frowns at the folded paper, glancing at me, before smoothing it out to read the message inside. Her whole face softens, eyebrows shooting upward. “Oh.” Evelyn flicks to the second page. “Wow. I mean… The audacity of that man.”

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