Never Let You Go(57)

“This is getting out of hand.” He’s gripping his beer like he might throw it at something. “I should have put a bullet in his head when you first told me he hurt you.”

“Jesus. Don’t talk like that.”

Chris looks down at his bottle. “Sorry.” But something about the way he says it doesn’t sound all that sorry. I know my brother, know that sometimes loyalty blinds reason.

“Hey, you won’t do anything stupid, right? You’re going to have your own baby.” I give his arm a shake. “You need to be around for her.”

He meets me eyes. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” I hold my hand out and wiggle my pinkie finger.

“Promise.” He hooks his finger in mine.

In the morning Sophie and I make breakfast for everyone—waffles with lots of whipped cream and strawberries—then we open our presents. Sophie’s spoiled me with bath products, a beautiful new cream-colored throw blanket, and a pale blue knit cap and scarf. She also sketched me a funny drawing of Angus dragging me down the street. When she opens my gifts for her, art supplies, an iTunes card, and a leather portfolio for her drawings with her name engraved on it, she lets out a whoop and crushes me in a hug. “You’re the best!”

Chris and Maddie love the quilt that Sophie and I made for their baby, and all the adorable toys we couldn’t help purchasing. They’ve generously gifted us with a new latte machine, which we immediately put to good use. All too soon they have to leave and catch the ferry. I won’t admit it to Chris, or in front of Sophie, but I felt safer with my brother at our house. I hug him hard at his car door and he says, “You need me, I’ll be in the next ferry over.”

After they’re gone, I put on the cap and scarf Sophie gave me and we take Angus for a winter walk, then spend the rest of the day watching movies and eating all our stocking stuffers. Sophie seems distracted, though, lapsing into silence, checking her phone constantly. When I ask who she’s texting, she says Delaney, but she doesn’t meet my eyes and tucks her phone into her pocket. I haven’t told her about the present her father left on my car. I will eventually, but I don’t want to ruin Christmas for her. I keep wondering when Andrew left the CD. Was I sleeping? Walking around in the house in my bathrobe? Kissing Greg? How long was he outside?

Boxing Day morning, Sophie gets up early to go shopping with Delaney while I’m still in bed. I was hurt when she’d told me her plans last night—the two of us always go skating on Boxing Day—but I kept my thoughts to myself. I wake as I hear the front door close and Delaney’s car drive off. I stay in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling until Angus whines that he wants to go outside. While I have my morning coffee, I flip through some flyers in the newspaper and consider whether I should check if Sophie actually went to the mall. She doesn’t like shopping at the best of times and it will be packed today. Is she meeting Andrew again?

I get dressed and head down to the mall to browse around, telling myself that there is no harm in having a look. If I run into Sophie, great. If I don’t, then I just have to trust her word.

After two hours at the mall, I’ve checked all Sophie’s favorite stores but haven’t spotted her yet. Finally I see a familiar head of violet-colored hair at the other end of the food court.

I’m a few feet away when I realize a boy is standing next to her, their heads close, his hand grazing her lower back. I freeze, caught off guard. The boy lifts his head and looks in my direction. Jared McDowell. When did they start spending time together?

Jared meets my eyes and nudges Sophie, says something to her. She turns and catches me watching. Her face flushes and she moves away from Jared a couple of steps.

I walk closer. “How’s the shopping going?”

“Why are you here?”

Her abrupt tone stings. She’s never rude like this, but I don’t want to say anything in front of Jared. “I’m shopping,” I say. “The Gap has some good deals.”

“Hi, Lindsey,” Jared says. It’s not strange for him to call me Lindsey—it’s what he calls me when I’m cleaning his house—but it feels odd in front of my daughter. She shoots him a look, like she’s startled by his being so personal.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” I say.

“It was great. You?”

“Lovely, thanks.” We stand in awkward silence. “Where’s Delaney?” I say.

“She’s picking out shoes,” Sophie says. “We have to meet her.” I realize my daughter is brushing me off and feel another stab of hurt.

“Well, have fun. See you at home.” I turn, then feel her hand on the back of my arm. I look over my shoulder at her.

“I’ll make dinner tonight, okay?” she says.

“Sounds great.” I know it’s her way of apologizing, can see the conflicting emotions playing across her face, and understand that she doesn’t know why she’s embarrassed or how to deal with it. I force my face into a cheerful expression. “Nice to see you again, Jared.”

“You too, Lindsey,” he says.

As I walk away I have the sudden feeling that he used my name on purpose this time—like he was trying to make me uncomfortable, but I don’t know why.

When Sophie gets home that night, I’m in my bedroom doing some bookkeeping on my computer while Angus lolls on the bed. I hear her footsteps come into the room, then mattress springs shifting and Angus’s tail thumping on the duvet.