Page 68 of Blame It On Midnight

“I’m so tired.”

“Go to bed. I need to make some calls, and hopefully we’ll find a place for you sooner, than later.”

“You’ll come with me? Get me sorted?”

“I will.”

She got up and left the kitchen, shuffling like an old woman. Once he was sure she was safe in his bedroom, he headed for his office. He checked in with Taz and spent an hour Facetiming Nora. She asked about her bunny and kitten. Asked if he’d braided her pony’s tail and mane because he’d promised on their last phone call. He felt like a shit. He lied and said yes. Then she asked if he was coming along for the cookout the next night.

Benton exhaled and considered his next words while he stared at his daughter’s sweet face. His dad was right. She was smart, and he wouldn’t serve her well by keeping things from her.

“Your mom is sick again, and I have to take her to one of those special places that’s going to help her get well.”

Nora scrunched up her face. “Like when you had your accident and you went away for weeks and weeks.”

“Something like that.”

“Does she have a bellyache?”

“Kind of.”

“Where’s Collins? Can she come to the cookout with me?”

“She had to go see her family.”

“But when is she coming home?”

“I don’t know, sweets. Her family is having a big party on the weekend. Maybe she’ll come back here when it’s done.”

“Are you going to the party?”

He sat there for a few seconds and considered some things. “It’s pretty far away.”

“That’s what planes are for, silly,” she giggled and glanced over her shoulder. “Auntie Scar is handing out chocolate ice cream cones.”

“Love you,” he managed to get the words in before her face disappeared. It was Tuesday night. He turned on his computer and began researching rehab facilities all over the country. Made a list and whittled it down to five. By the time he was done, it was after midnight. He checked his messages, but there was nothing from Collins. He fingered his phone, then sent her a message. He wished he had Cal’s talent with words, but figured being honest would have to do.

Miss you.

Pretty lame, he thought, but it was all he had. He headed upstairs, checked on Daisy Mae, then fell onto Nora’s bed. First thing Wednesday morning, he’d call the five facilities and, God willing, he’d find the perfect place for Daisy Mae.

Once his past was safe and secure, he’d look to his future.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Lafferty Gala was an annual event held at the Plaza Hotel in New York City every year, the weekend before Labor Day. The Palm Court was decked out and made ready for three hundred guests, with tables of eight costing fifty thousand dollars. There was a silent auction that included a new Rolls-Royce, a speedboat, an original painting by a celebrated American artist from Michigan, Shane Gallagher, and many more luxurious items donated for the event.

Every year, five charities were chosen as recipients, and with millions of dollars raised, it was always a success. This year was no different, and anticipation was high. One of the charities, Adopt Don’t Shop, was a favorite of Collins, and she smiled when she spied one of the ladies who ran it. She’d volunteered at their shelter many times and had posed for their fundraising calendar for the last five years straight.

Usually, this made her happy. Seeing all these folks with too much, forking out their cash to give to those in need. But tonight, she couldn’t seem to summon the energy to smile. She’d been on the verge of tears for days now.

One message was all he’d sent.

Miss you.

And when she’d seen it, her heart exploded. Her knees went weak. Her arms shook. Her voice left her, but luckily, she had her fingers for typing. She’d sent him a long-winded text message, full of typos and angst that she was going to blame on lack of sleep combined with one hell of a stiff whiskey. God, just thinking about it made her cheeks blush the kind of red that was not attractive.

I miss you too. More than you know. I can’t stop thinking about you. Your eyes and mouth, and the way you feel. I love the smell of your hair and how your laugh is low. I’m so sorry for all you’re dealing with. I need to see you. I have to tell you some things. I’m a little drunk and I’ve probably said too much. I hope you don’t think I’m an idiot. Call me please. I need to hear your voice.

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