Fool for Love (Believe #2) (35 page)

“Yes,” she whispers and brushes her lips over mine. “I can’t wait.”

I hesitate as the enormity of her words hit me right in the gut. I revel in the warmth they elicit in my body, and let my forehead rest on hers for a couple of seconds. Then I give in and tell her the words she no doubt wants to hear.

The words I actually long to say.

The words that give me hope of a brighter future than I thought before.

“Neither can I,” I whisper back.

Giving her one last kiss, I release her and then I’m out the door.

As I ride down the elevator, my heart feels lighter than it has in fifteen years.

The strange thing is that the lightness doesn’t fade all throughout the day.

Maybe I still have a chance in this life.

Maybe…

M
Y BODY FEELS DELICIOUSLY
sore all afternoon, even after the long bath I took when Garrett left, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does except the happy butterflies in my tummy.

The boring, negative voice inside me that usually tells me to not jump to any conclusions is absent for once. Technically, I know that I should be more careful with my heart, but how can I be when the hottest man to ever walk this earth wants to show me his pride and joy?

All caution has been thrown to the wind now, and I know deep down that Garrett’s feelings about us have changed.

The way he looked at me before he left – oh, my goodness. I’ve never seen that look in another man’s eyes. Not directed at me, anyway.

It came pretty close to the way Daniel looks at Emma sometimes, actually. Pure adoration. Warm. Heated.

All three at the same time, and it made me weak in the knees.

It’s completely irrational, of course, but as I set about cleaning the apartment, I can’t let it go. I know my instincts have been completely off before, but this time, it’s different.

Or at least I hope it is.

My heart breaks when I think about his revelation last night. To have loved so deeply and lost when he was so young – I can’t imagine what it must be like. The betrayal caused by Cecilia and Vincent makes me so angry on his behalf, even though I didn’t know them. I’m also sad that their lives were taken from them before their time, and I hurt for Garrett.

To lose a child…oh, hell. It’s unbearable. Even if Garrett wasn’t the father, he’ll never know. He wasn’t given a chance to find out, and that’s what tears at me the most.

Suddenly, I miss my mother so deeply. Despite what’s happened between us, I vow to call her soon. It’s time we have a real conversation; it’s time I forgive her, even if she doesn’t deserve it.

Time – we always think we have so much left, but we don’t know that.

It’s like I told Garrett last night, life’s too short for regrets.

I know there are still a million things about Garrett that he hasn’t told me about, or that I haven’t learned myself, but those are just details.

My heart is telling me that this man is
The One.
I won’t ever let him down.

When I turn off the vacuum, an incessant knocking from the front door catches my attention, and I wipe the sweat off my brow before I run to it.

Blowing some strands of hair out of my eyes, I turn the lock and open it, but my body freezes when I see who the guest is – one of the cops who came by the other day.

This man is the younger of the two, and as he slowly lowers his raised arm, his beady eyes take in my body. Even though I’m fully clothed in yoga pants and a top, I don’t like the way they linger on my boobs before they travel to my eyes.

I frown at him. “Who are you?”

He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When I cross my arms, he licks his lips, and my skin begins to crawl.

This guy rates so high on the Creep-O-Meter. Ugh.

“I’m Detective Dennis Easton with the NYPD. May I come in?”

Without waiting for my answer, he steps into my private space, and I have no choice but to back away and let him inside. I don’t shut the door, though, but instead, I remain standing next to it.

He stops and looks back at me when he notices that I’m not following him, and his lips turn down in annoyance.

“Is Mr. Thompson home?” he clips as he walks back towards me.

“He’s just gone down to the deli around the corner,” I lie.

For some reason, I don’t trust this guy.

He purses his lips at me, clearly not buying it; but I jut out my chin, refusing to back down.

“Mind telling me your name, Miss…?” he asks as he takes out a small notebook and a pen from the breast pocket on his jacket.

“Suzy Christensen. Mind telling me why you’re here?”

He writes down my name but doesn’t answer, and the growing silence makes me nervous. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and stiffen slightly when he continues to meander around the apartment. He stops in front of the old bookshelf and begins to read the titles on the back of the books, ignoring me. A sliver of unease settles in my stomach.

“Why are you in New York, Miss Christensen? You don’t sound American, am I right?” He glances in my direction and I let out a low sigh, annoyed with him for stalling.

“No, I’m from Denmark. I’m just here on holiday – I wanted to see a bit of the world while I still could.”

His thoughtful look makes me impatient to get rid of him. “Look, Detective Easton, do you need me to ask Garrett to call you?”

“Ah, no, that won’t be necessary, Miss. I’ll just drop by another time.” He walks slowly back towards me, and relief fills me that he’ll soon be gone.

I uncross my arms and turn my back on him, expecting him to leave.

Big mistake.

An arm pushes me roughly in the back, knocking me slightly into the door, and I gasp when my front is plastered to it, a hard, unforgiving body leaning into mine. My arms are forced back, and I cry out in pain from the force when his other hand yanks my hair back.

“Tell Garrett Thompson to watch his back,” the detective whispers in my ear. “Tell him that Giancarlo hasn’t forgotten him.”

I nod, frantic, silently praying that he won’t hurt me, and he chuckles with menace.

“Maybe I shouldn’t leave just yet…”

I shut my eyes when he bends his head to my neck, and I think I’m about to throw up when he presses his hips into my ass; his arousal is clear, and tears spring to my eyes.

His breathing grows heavy, and I whimper with fright.

“Maybe we should have a little fun, you and I.”

Please don’t, please, please, please, please…

He releases the painful hold on my hair, one hand trailing down my shoulder and I shudder when he skims the side of my breast. I can feel his hand stop before it closes on my breast, and a sob tears itself free from my throat. I try to wrench my arms free, but his hold only tightens further, and he ignores me. His body leans further into me, keeping my arms imprisoned, and he clamps his free hand down on my mouth. I try to bite it, but I can’t. His hold is too tight, and it doesn’t give my mouth the opening I need.

Adrenaline courses through me as I cry, and I know deep in my soul that I have to fight him – I have to, or I won’t be me anymore.

A loud ringing makes him pause, and he lets go of my breast.

His voice is perfectly calm as he answers it.

“Detective Easton.”

Frantically, I contemplate whether now’s the time for me to scream when his hand covering my mouth slips. But I’m petrified.

I pant, keeping my voice down as the seconds tick past, trying to will my thoughts to come up with a plan to escape him, but I’m numb – blank – unable to do anything at all.

“I see,” he murmurs. I can hear the sour note in his voice. “I’ll come down to the station now.”

A small sliver of hope sets in as he ends the call, and I try to get my crying under control.

“Well, it would seem that I have to leave you,” he whispers in my ear. I tremble even harder when he licks my neck.

“Don’t you even think for a minute of telling anyone about what happened here, you little bitch,” he goes on, and I try to shake my head. He grabs my hair again, causing me to whimper from the pain.

“No one will believe a word coming out of your mouth, do you hear?” He gives me a small shake while his other hand finds my breast again and he pinches my nipple; the humiliation is unbearable. All I seem able to do is cry harder, and then I’m pulled back and tossed to the floor. I curl into a ball, making my body as small as possible, and I don’t open my eyes. I hear his footsteps retreat and the door opens and shuts, practically without a sound.

Sobbing, I try to force my body to obey me, to get up from the floor, but it’s as if I’m frozen in place – I can’t untangle my arms from around my knees but I open my eyes to make sure that I’m truly alone. My eyes land on the coffee table only a couple of feet away and I notice my my mobile lying there, and I finally find the strength to get up from the door.

As I try to make my trembling legs obey me, I stumble closer, tripping more than once. When I reach the table, I sob when I pick up my phone; my hands shake so hard that it takes me three tries to find Garrett’s number.

At last, I’m successful, hoping that his meeting is over, but my hope dies when it goes straight to voicemail.

“Garrett…” My voice breaks and I cry harder. “Please – please come home,” I whisper before I end the call.

I have no more strength in my body.

I slide down, falling into a heap on the floor, and the phone slips out of my hand.

Giving in to the shock, I lie there and cry and cry until fate takes pity on me, and I fall into a deep sleep.