CHERISH (23 page)

I’m keeping my eyes on her. I dry the pan and hang it with the others on the rack over the island. Then I lean back against the counter, arms crossed, watching her reactions.

When her shoulders start to shake, I take that as my cue. I push off from the counter and I’m next to her in ten strides, crouching down and slipping one hand behind her back and the other under her legs. She’s curled into a ball. I hoist her up, spin around and set us both back down on the sofa. Only this time, she is curled into my lap with my arms tightly bound around her as she trembles and drops the phone.

Promise

Louis's sister told me everything, and for the first time since Northrup showed up at the loft door, I feel hopeful.

More than hopeful.

Peaceful.

Everything we’ve discovered about Louis since Northrup dropped the bomb on us has eased our minds. I’m not saying he wasn’t dead wrong to take my brother without telling me, but the bits and pieces we’ve put together have made him look far less nefarious.

First, the rape. Now, I would never presume to doubt a woman who says she was raped.

However, the woman that is accusing Louis? Yeah,
Holly.

She’s got as many versions of what happened that night as she has excuses. Second of all, I
know
her and I wouldn’t trust her any further than I could pick her up and toss her.

There might not be much to her, but that’s still not far.

I trust that she will lie.

I trust that she cares only about herself.

I trust that she’s not bathed in good intentions.

That's about the extent of my faith in that woman.

After the phone call with Louis’s sister had ended, I sobbed until I fell asleep against Beckett. He just sat there, cradling me in his lap. He didn't flinch until I opened my eyes and asked him what was next.

So now he’s got me packing my honeymoon suitcase again. Only it’s still not for our honeymoon. I’m going back to Bruce’s and this time it’s for a few days.

And Beckett is leaving for Egypt.

He and his friend from the service are flying out in a few hours. I want to go. I need to go but he won't let me.

Okay, so I don’t have a passport, but the truth is I know Beckett is relieved by that. He wouldn’t let me anyway, but I would plead my case if I knew there was even a possibility I could get on that plane.

He thinks he has enough information to make a play for Jordan. He's currently tapping the keys on his laptop, making plans or whatever.

After I woke up, Beck settled me back on the sofa, made me waffles with strawberries and then hopped on his computer.

I'm watching him work while I savor the mixture of strawberries and maple syrup.

All of a sudden he stands bolt upright and practically runs in my direction with his open laptop in his hands. He drops onto the cushion next to me with the screen of his computer facing me as I shove an enormous bite of waffle into my mouth maple syrup dripping off my bottom lip.

“Babe.” He adjusts the laptop so I can see and I notice his neck twitches a few times before he looks from the monitor, then back to me.

There’s a video playing. When I see the blond hair I drop my fork onto the plate and set it onto the end table, grabbing the edges of the laptop. I’m frozen as Jordan’s face appears on the screen.

The weight and warmth of Beck’s arm covers my shoulders. I’m still naked, because that’s just the norm when we are here, but I’m suddenly chilled and thankful for his heat.

The video plays for exactly thirty-three seconds. It’s Jordan. He smiles. He looks okay. He says he misses us. He doesn’t say anything about coming home. He doesn’t say anything about Louis.

The last three seconds are of Jordan glancing off screen, listening to someone mumble. Then he looks at the camera, smiles and says he loves me.

I play it over and over while Beckett makes some phone calls. Rehema gave me the address of the family home in Egypt. Once she and I got to talking, something developed between us. A thread of hope. As women, we both felt a bit discarded by our fathers, our families, and in the end, she gave up more to me than she probably ever would have given to Beckett.

I stuff my suitcase with balls of clothes and this time Beck isn’t giving me any grief at all, not about my messy nature nor my lack of packing skills.

For a moment, I wonder where Holly is. We haven’t heard a peep from her since she busted herself out of the hospital. My guess is she's long gone. She'll be holed up somewhere seedy with her douchebag boyfriend. Back to their sad routine.

The one thing that still doesn’t make sense is her reappearig just because she didn’t want Louis adopting Jordan. The only guess I can make is she got wind of Louis’s financial background and the dollar signs started flashing in her eyes.

When she found out Louis planned to adopt Jordan, she saw her meal ticket. Just make a rape accusation, create a tornado of trouble and somehow get her talons into a nice shut-the-fuck-up check.

Only, she didn’t count on Louis skipping out of the country and her own web of lies being even more than she could keep track of. I mean, why would she go to the police? That just shines the spotlight on her stupidity.

They couldn’t do anything anyway. It’s been way too long since it happened. The statute of limitations has expired, as Detective Northrup had said. But I’m sure Holly didn’t think about those kinds of legal details; she just wanted to ride in and hit her mark, like the world stops for her.

Who knows? I could be off base, but somewhere deep down, for the first time in days, I feel like it’s all going to work out.

There is a tiny dot of light at the end of the tunnel. After talking to his sister, I have an idea why Louis did what he did. It still doesn’t explain why he didn’t trust us enough to just let us in on what was happening though.

If I hadn’t seen with my own eyes how much Louis loved Jordan over the last few months, I would be completely coming apart right now. There are still questions, and I know it hurts Beck that the man he thought was one of his best friends didn’t bother to respect him enough to come up with a solution together. But from what Rehema had said, he must have been so traumatized by what happened to him when he was young, he just wasn't thinking clearly.

I get it. I understand how your past can make you do crazy things.

On top of that, I am still throwing up every morning and I’d put my mood swings up against any pendulum. I’m sure it’s just the baby crazies and nothing else. I’ve been fine for so long. Sure, quitting my meds is probably making me feel a little worse but it’s the right thing to do. Beck will never have to know.

I smile at him as he watches me stuffing my suitcase from across the loft. I crumple up a pair of jeans in a ball and he shakes his head. Everything is going to be okay.

I’ve got Beck.

I’ve got our baby.

And he’s going to get Jordan. I know he is. I trust him.

Beckett

Delivering her here to Bruce’s apartment, I feel like I’m failing her. She needs me to be her safe place. We also need our own damn home. The loft is enemy territory as far as I’m concerned and my girl deserves to feel safe and rooted somewhere.

“You know I’m not leaving, so if y’all need to take this up a notch, I’m just sayin’ it ain’t going to be private.” Bruce sits there, coffee mug in hand, giving us the death stare from his place in the upholstered chair next to the sofa.

I want to be alone with her, but I want that all the time. All I know is it’s hard to breathe without her. We
should
be alone right now, bonding as husband and wife. But instead, I’m leaving her with Bruce while I jet off to try to bring back the only other thing in her life that matters to her.

Jordan.

The one thing I promised her I would do is get her brother back to her. And I'm going to do it, no matter what.

My neck jerks as I hold her face so I can just stare at her. I want it burned into my mind. Branded deeper into me than she already is. I need to take that with me.

I can’t remember any woman before Promise. And now that I have her, if, God forbid, anything happened, I’d still be loyal. No one will ever take her place. Not in my world nor in my bed.

She was chipper on the drive to Bruce’s, but now she looks wrong. Her eyes aren’t lit from behind. They look cloudy, and the hint of pink flush on her cheeks has been replaced by ash.

I hate leaving her.

“Babe.” I set my lips upon hers, just wanting to feel their softness and taste the flavor of cherries and sunshine. She barely kisses me back. “What’s wrong?”

I shift back to look in her eyes, brushing a loose hair from her forehead, fitting it down behind her ear and then putting my fingers behind the little diamond earring that hangs from the cutest earlobe on the planet. Those are the earrings I gave her just an hour ago. The third gift on the third day. Our three-day anniversary. I gave them to her after another round of goodbye sex.

I had pushed her body to straddle my face, teaching her nothing was off limits. I had to guide her hips at first, showing her just how hard she could move, then once my tongue got going, she bucked on my mouth like a rodeo champ.

She came so hard she collapsed on my face until I nearly smothered in her pink slice of heaven.

Hey, if there’s a way to go, that was it.
Death by pussy. And not just any pussy—the
only
pussy.

I brought her back to life, swung her around and took her from behind. First nuts-to-butt in her clutching cunt. Then, she turned her head, looked at me over her shoulder and whispered she wanted me inside her somewhere else. Fuck if things didn’t get real.

But now I’m starting to get worried. Her mood was all vixen and seductress an hour ago. Now, she looks like her hamster died. I pin her with my eyes until she answers the question. Something is not right here. I don't like it. And I'm about to leave her and fly half way around the fucking world.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” As soon as the words leave her lips she looks up at me, wide-eyed. She knows better than to give me that bullshit answer. I want to fucking know what’s going on. Quickly, she whispers into my ear, “Who knew being pregnant would make you so . . .” she trails off with a shrug. “Funny.”

I look over to see Bruce regarding us with playful irritation. I called him before we headed over. Promise and I told him about the baby. It had to be done. The break in his voice when he did his best to mutter the ‘Congratulations’ without outright crying only made me love the guy even more.

“Raise your right hand,” I say to Bruce with my own mock seriousness.

He bobs his eyebrows but holds up his hand, coffee mug and all, like he's making some sort of weird toast. He crosses his legs and jiggles his loafer up and down.

“Do you fucking swear you will take care of her? And not like you take care of that plant over there either.” We both look at the nearly leafless Ficus tree by the balcony sliding doors. I swear it droops a little more even as we watch it.

He shrugs. “I’m not good with plants.
They
don’t like me. Besides, who was it that took care of her when you . . .” He pulls his lips to the side. “When she turned into a damn cushion on my sofa a few months ago.”

I glance at Promise and she looks at the floor. Even Bruce isn’t getting a smile from her.

“Just answer the question.”

“Yes, big scary man. I will take care of her.” Bruce’s voice is steady, but I don’t miss his concerned glance at Promise, who refuses to look at either of us. “She can go to work with me. Read some naughty romance to her little book club. Maybe a little
Fifty Shades
will get their blood pressure up. The group misses her.”

Promise gives him a strained smile and I take her face in my hands, regarding her for a long moment. My eyes take in the few soft freckles that dot her nose. The way her eyes look sunken, deeper than usual.

The narcissistic animal behind my zipper tries to get a word in. But even a horny fuck like me knows there’s going to be no more glory until I get back. Just another incentive to get on the plane, get shit done and get the fuck out with Jordan sitting next to me on the return flight.