Page 8 of The Tangle of Awful

She studies my face for a long beat, glances at my mouth, and then darts her eyes back to her tattoo. “What if…What if something happened to her, Hugo?” Her voice trembles and her next words barely rasp out. “What if she’s dead?”

It’d be so much easier on us all if that were the case. Being a widower would ensure my win, no doubt. Furthermore, the stress and anxiety Neena causes me on a daily basis would disappear completely. As far as the feeling of abandonment that Aubrey certainly deals with, would also be explained away. Her mother could be remembered as just that, her mom. Not someone who doesn’t give two shits about her.

“She’s not dead,” I assure her.

“How do you know?”

“I’m tracking her purchases and phone activity whenever she decides to turn it on.”

“Someone could have her card,” she croaks out.

Only Neena makes weekly trips to Michael Kors or Kate Spade for new handbags and accessories. Only Neena eats at Wild Eats several times a month. Only Neena buys hair products on the regular at the high-end salons around town.

“She has her card.” I scrub my palm over my face. “Her card activity is the same as it always is. If anything, she’s spending more.” I pause to frown. “Enough for two people.”

“Have you tried her car?” Aubrey offers. “It’s high tech. Don’t you have access to the app?”

“It’s in the garage, untouched.”

“Why is she doing this?” she asks. “Making us all worry?”

Because your mother is a bitch of epic proportions when she wants to be.

“I don’t know,” I say instead. “I’m working on it. I can’t exactly call her favorite shops and restaurants to ask where my wife is without rousing suspicion. You know how this town talks.”

She nods, all too aware of small-town living and the rumor mill everyone is connected to.

“Now why are you really here?” I lift a brow at her. “This could have been a phone call. What else is going on?”

Aubrey shifts in her seat. Her cheeks slowly tinge pink. Whatever has her quietly evading the question is embarrassing to her.

“Aubrey Love,” I urge, using her first and middle name. “Tell me so I can help.”

Relief floods through her, taking some of the tension with it. Did she really think I’d mock her or send her away? I reach over and hook a finger under her chin, lifting her head so that she’s forced to look at me.

“Me and Dad…” She trails off, nostrils flaring. “We had a fight.”

“And you decided to come stay with us?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she says icily. “Dad kicked me out.”

A hot burst of anger surges up my spine and straight to my head. “He what?”

“Apparently, I’m out of control.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “If I can’t find Mom, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

I grab hold of her hand, enveloping it between both of mine. The pink on her cheeks turns a deeper shade of crimson and causes her neck to turn splotchy in the same color.

“You come home,” I tell her in a fierce tone. “With me.”

“But—”

“I’ll talk to Spencer. He can get in line or he can get out. The boy doesn’t have his trust fund yet. We both know he’s not going to take option two, at least until he turns twenty-one.”

“I’ll need a new key. Mine is, uh, ruined.”

I squeeze her hand between mine, hoping to offer comfort. “I’m going to take care of you, Love. Whether I’m married to your mother or not. That’s a promise.”

Her smile is breathtaking. “I didn’t miss much about Park Mountain,” she murmurs and then eyes my mouth again, “but I did miss you.”

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