Live to Tell (Live to Tell #1)(26)

“Why not?”

“I don’t know…maybe I’m not feeling as lucky as you are.” Her mouth grins, but Nick still can’t see her eyes—and something tells him they’re not smiling.



Down at the opposite end of the hall, Lauren can see that Sadie’s bedroom door is ajar and the bedside lamp is on. That’s how her youngest child gets herself through the long nights since Nick moved out. At least Sadie has managed to sleep in her own bed again now that Ryan and Lucy are back—when she manages to sleep at all.

Lauren passes both Lucy’s and Ryan’s rooms. All is silent behind their closed doors, but she’s sure they’re both awake—plugged into headphones, no doubt.

Back when they were an intact family, it bothered Lauren when the two older kids would retreat into their own little electronic worlds, unable to hear her and unwilling to interact.

But as she and Nick battled to the bitter end of their marriage, she found herself relieved the kids could insulate themselves from the blistering words hurtled back and forth by their parents. Behind closed doors, plugged into their iPods, Lucy and Ryan could escape.

Little Sadie, however, could not.

Poor baby.

Lauren finds her sitting up in bed, hair tousled, knees huddled against her chest, face flushed.

“What’s the matter, Sadie? Are you too hot?” Lauren is already crossing to the box fan in the window, making sure it’s on the highest setting.

“No. Not really.”

“Do you need some more water?” she asks Sadie. There’s a half-full glass on the nightstand beside Sadie’s lineup of Barbies, though, and it’s still floating with ice cubes.

“No.”

“Want me to take you to the bathroom?”

Sadie shakes her head, looking distressed.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No.”

“Are you still afraid of lions and tigers and bears? Because I told you—”

“No!”

“What is it, then?” Lauren asks gently, crossing the pink carpet to her daughter’s bed.

“Fred.”

“Fred?” That catches her off guard. The first few Fred-less nights were brutal, but it’s been a while since Sadie’s brought up her missing toy.

“Daddy said he’s going to look for Fred when he gets back from his vacation, and he’s coming back tomorrow.”

“That’s good, but, sweetie… Daddy might not find him.”

“He promised he’d try.”

To his credit, Nick didn’t promise that he would.

Still—he’d damned well better get himself over to the Grand Central lost and found again on Monday.

Meanwhile…

“You know, that guy looks pretty lonely over there,” Lauren comments, pointing at Sadie’s dresser across the room.

On top sits the wrong stuffed animal—the pink dog Nick claimed from the lost and found. Lauren had carried it up to Sadie’s room the morning after she tossed it across the kitchen, hoping it might grow on her in Fred’s probably permanent absence. Here it’s sat, apparently untouched and unnoticed.

“I don’t like him.”

“Maybe you would,” Lauren suggests, starting toward the dresser, “if you got to know him.”

“No.” Sadie shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t want him! I want Daddy!”

Lauren stops in her tracks.

“I mean, Fred,” Sadie hastily amends. “I want Fred.”

“I know what you mean, baby.”

Swept by a familiar, heart-sinking sensation, Lauren returns to the bed. She moves Sadie’s oversize Dora the Explorer pillow out of the way and sits down, and begins stroking her daughter’s hair. “It’s not easy to lose someone you love, is it?”

“Daddy says he’ll find Fred.”

“Daddy will try. But he might not be able to.”

“He said he would.”

Lauren nods. “I know. He’ll try.”

I hope.

After all, Nick doesn’t have that great a track record when it comes to keeping promises.

Vows.

Lauren probably shouldn’t expect so little of him as a father. He does love the kids—of that, she’s certain.

Still…

He loved her, too, and look what he did to their storybook marriage.

Nothing Nick could possibly do would surprise me anymore.



Stepping out of the pub, Byron is caught off guard as much by the darkness as by the moist wave of heat that greets him. He’d completely lost touch with the world outside while he was in there nursing beer after beer and waiting for some loser who didn’t even bother to show up.

It’s getting late—and he has a feeling this is going to be one of those nights. Relentlessly hot and steamy all the way through.

He thinks longingly of his air-conditioned apartment across the river in Jersey. But a good night’s sleep isn’t worth the risk. He doesn’t dare go back there now. The place has to be under surveillance.

He’ll return to the Lower East Side dive his friend Mina rents. No AC, to be sure, but there’s a creaky old window fan.

Mina gave him the key once, a long time ago, so that he could water her pot plants while she was away for a week.