Page 106 of Dark Knight

One problem: it would be a tremendous job. I wonder whether I have what it takes to pull off something this big. I wouldn’t be doing it alone – but I wouldn’t know where to begin getting help.

Right away, doubt starts to creep in and tickle the back of my mind. Who do I think I am? I’m nobody. I don’t have experience. And who’s to say I would end up helping anybody? I might make everything even worse somehow. I’m not in any position to give advice or provide what anybody needs.

Is it better to just throw money at a charity and hope it does some good?

I’m still going back and forth by the time I roll through the front gate. The sight of Henry sitting at his usual post makes me smile to myself. Some things just are the way they are. Like Henry. He’s been sitting there for as long as I can remember, maybe since before I was born. If I ever drove through these gates and didn’t see him there, everything would seem off. He is continuity; he’s a sign that everything’s going how it should.

I wish the rest of my life could be that way. All safe and comforting. Predictable.

If life was more predictable, I wouldn’t be walking through the house calling out to people who aren’t here. “Bianca? Where are you?” No response. My heart sinks a little despite the fact that I’m standing in the middle of a Christmas wonderland. This doesn’t even seem like a real house anymore. With all the garland, trees, and twinkling lights wrapped around the railing leading up the steps, wound through the wreath swathed over every doorway and expertly tucked between the branches of a fifteen-foot spruce. It’s like a movie set, and standing in the middle of it makes me happy, but I was hoping to talk to my best friend. I’m enthusiastic about something for the first time in forever.

Sheryl’s not in the kitchen when I stop in for an apple, either. That’s when I remember her talking about getting some Christmas shopping done this afternoon. I head down the hall toward Dad‘s office, crunching the juicy apple. “Dad? Where’s —”

Okay, now I’m starting to wonder if everything’s alright. I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve walked in here in the middle of the day and found the office empty. What if something happened to Bianca and the baby when I wasn’t here? My heart is lodged in my throat, and I could kick myself for not thinking of that sooner.

Not many things could get me to rush into Romero’s office. Not right now. Not with everything still so weird between us. Right now, though, I’m too worried to care. I’ve barely knocked on the open door before blurting out, “Where is everybody?? Are they —”

He looks up from the document he’s reading and shakes his head. “Take a breath. Everything’s fine. They went out for lunch and shopping with Bianca’s dad.”

I lean against the door frame and close my eyes. “Thank God. I thought she was sick or something.”

“No, just spending the afternoon with the two of them. Who knows? She might end up wishing she was sick by the time it’s all said and done.”

I don’t appreciate the snark in his voice, but I see where he’s coming from. It’s sort of a miracle that my dad and hers can be bothered to spend time in the same room after all their years of basically working against each other. Charlie Cole made it his life’s mission to put Dad behind bars back during his detective days, and Dad always found a way to slip through his fingers. He wasnothappy when he found out his daughter fell in love with a criminal.

But they’re doing their best to get along for her sake, and for the baby.

“What are you doing?” I ask, since now that we’re in the same room, I can’t help but look for reasons to bug him. It means an excuse to be with him, and I’m pitiful enough to want that. I want it so much I’ll make a fool of myself to get it.

He makes a point of looking down at his work, then back at me. “Earning a living. What does it look like?”

“Oh, my God. Can you try to act like a human being for two seconds? I was only asking. You don’t have to get all insulted and bitchy.”

“Last I checked, you barged in here and practically shrieked when I was in the middle of something.” He leans back in his chair, studying me. “So, how was your session?”

“It was fine.”

“You’re actually getting along with this doctor?”

“You know what, I’m out. I swear, just when I think you might be human, you have to act like an asshole.”

“Hey. Hey!” he barks when I start down the hall. “Come back.”

“Why? So I can be insulted?”

“Okay, fine. No insults.”

Insults aside, I can’t ignore how my pulse flutters like my stomach did earlier. It’s excitement, maybe anticipation. Of what? That’s a dumb question. I know exactly what my stupid body thinks is going to happen. It doesn’t help that he looks hotter than sin in his typical work clothes: charcoal slacks and a light blue button-down shirt that matches his eyes. The sleeves are rolled up almost to his elbows — what is it about the side of a pair of strong forearms that makes me weak?

These are Romero’s forearms. I have to remember the man they’re attached to.

“Actually,” I mutter, folding my arms and trying to ignore his, “I wanted to bounce an idea off Bianca. It’s something the therapist got me thinking about.”

His brows lift. “What’s on your mind?”

“She wanted me to think about ways to help other people. If I could turn what happened to me into a good thing for others, it would lose its power. I forget her exact words.”

“That’s a fairly typical approach.” Like he’s an expert.

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