Page 51 of Do Not Disturb
And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.
TWELVE YEARS EARLIER
I can hearthe hum of the engine and my body jolts with every imperfection in the road. My teeth sink into my lower lip as I shift in the passenger seat of the broken down Ford. A blindfold covers my eyes, shrouding me in darkness.
I desperately claw at the blindfold with my right hand. Before I can work it loose, a powerful hand encircles my wrist. My boyfriend Nick’s voice cuts through the silence. “Hey, quit doing that,” he says.
I groan. “Nick…”
“I mean it. I want this to be a surprise. No peeking.”
“Fine. How much longer?”
“Ten minutes—tops.”
“At nine minutes and thirty seconds, I’m ripping this blindfold off. I swear, Nick.”
I have been dating Nick Baxter for six years. We met in high school, if you can believe that. High school sweethearts—I know, I know. I never imagined meeting the love of my life in high school, but the second I kissed him at only sixteen years old, I just knew. This was the guy.
Have you ever just met somebody that you clicked with? That you felt was an extension of yourself? The missing piece. From the first moment we sat down to dinner on our first date, I felt like I could tell him anything. And I did. I told him I didn’t want to be a teacher like my parents kept telling me to be. I wanted to be a chef. I wanted to open my own restaurant. It was my dream. I fell in love with him for being the only one to believe in me.
Also, it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty hot. Even with my eyes blindfolded, I can picture his dark blond hair, his slim but muscular build, and his infectious smile. Girls always give Nick a second look, but he only has eyes for me. Whether I deserve it or not, he worships the ground I walk on.
I feel the car swerving to the right, which means he is exiting the highway. Thank God. If we don’t get there soon, I swear I’m going to vomit. If that happens, he’s going to have to clean it up all by himself, because this is his own damn fault.
The car jerks to a halt. Nick’s warm, large hand squeezes my knee. I can imagine the eager look on his face. “Okay, Rosie. We’re here.”
“Can I take off the blindfold?”
“Give me one minute.”
He insists on guiding me out of the car. He rests his hand on top of my head to make sure I don’t bump my head on the door frame. He places his hands on my shoulders and turns me about ninety degrees. Then he yanks off the blindfold.
“Ta-da!” he says.
I blink, adjusting to the light. “Ta-da what?”
“It’s your new restaurant.”
My newrestaurant? Is hejokingwith me?
I’ve been working as a line cook at a dingy restaurant since graduating culinary school. The salary is just barely enough that I could give up my waitressing job, since my parents have not given me one penny to subsidize my “ridiculous lifestyle.” Nick recently graduated from college with a degree in business, and he’s been talking about the two of us starting a restaurant. I said sure, figuring it was just a pipe dream.
And now we are standing in front of a one story building that looks like it should be condemned. All the windows are cracked, there’s dirt ground into every single crack and crevice, and the door is literally hanging by one hinge. As I stare at the place, a rat scurries out the front door. I’m sure there are plenty more where that one came from.
This place is horrible. It isnota good surprise. I feel like the blindfold was unnecessary.
“Oh,” I say. I’m trying to look happy, but it’s straining my acting skills.
“I know it doesn’t look great now,” he says quickly. “But I got it dirt cheap. Trust me, Rosie, this is a great location. I scoped it out, and there are no restaurants along I-93 for twenty minutes in either direction.”
“Mmm,” I say.
“I’m going to help you get it cleaned up,” he says, “and you’ll see, this place is going to be a huge success. I promise.”
“Mmm,” I say again.
He looks me straight in the eyes. “This is your dream. I’m going to make it happen for you.”
