RISK(46)
"What happened today?" Her eyes catch mine. I see her genuine concern. It was there when I left my office in a mad rush earlier and it was still there when she opened her apartment door to let me in. "Is she all right?"
Yes.
No.
She's perfect except for her shattered heart.
"She'll be fine." I lean back into the couch. "May's dog died a few weeks ago. It was her first loss. She's having a difficult time adjusting."
"Losing a pet can be very hard." Her lips turn down until she's frowning. Her brows pinch together. "I had a dog once. I remember how deeply I mourned that loss."
Kip had a dog; a feisty little Yorkie mix. She'd give it some of the food I would bring her, making it sit at attention before she'd pull off her mitten and feed it from her hand.
"What kind of dog was it?" I hone in on the opportunity to connect Ellie to Kip.
"A sweet one." She segues effortlessly into her next question. "What kind of dog did May have?"
"A beagle. Old and crotchety but she loved that fool with everything she has."
"Was it your dog before May arrived?" Her eyes brighten.
"What do you think?" I relax, resting my arm on the back of the couch.
Her brows shoot up with the question. She cradles her chin in her hand, studying my face carefully. "I think not. You don't seem like the kind of man who would have a dog unless his little girl wanted one."
"You're right," I say slowly as I lean closer to her. "She wanted to adopt a dog, so we went to the shelter and Barney gave her those old doggy eyes and she fell in love."
"You'd give her the moon if she asked, wouldn't you?" Her mouth curves into a soft smile.
"I'd hold her up and let her take it from the sky." I would. I can give my daughter everything she wants, but I can't give her one single detail about her mother.
Chapter 30
Ellie
"I'm such an idiot," I mumble to myself while he talks on the phone. He doesn't race off to another room to make the call. He does it right in front of me. I like it. I like hearing him asking a woman named Tilde how May is. This is his life, and he's let me inside.
He ends the call with a brief reminder to Tilde to call him if May wakes up. It's the third time he's told her that. "That was one of May's nannies. Now, explain the idiot comment, Ellie."
I wish I could. It's not about one thing, but I'm not going to tell him that. I'll just go with the obvious because dammit I should have put the clues together and realized that he didn't live in that apartment he took me to last night. "When we were in the office of your fake apartment, I knew something was up."
"That apartment isn't fake." He sits next to me again. He'd risen to his feet when he called Tilde, but he hadn't walked but a few inches from the couch. "It's real."
"You know what I mean," I say flustered. "It's not where you live."
"I own it. Many of the things I hold dear are still there."
I know he's referring to those photographs of the sailboats in the hallway. I've thought about those since he told me he moved out of that apartment. If they meant anything to him, he would have taken them with him to his new place. For some reason, they're hanging in an apartment he's left virtually untouched for years.
"The calendar was stuck at the month of May five years ago and the newspaper on your desk was open to a day from that month too. Is that when May was left in the lobby?"
The month of May. The baby named May. Wait.
"Did you name your daughter after a month?" I ask, without thinking the question through. Does it sound judgmental? I don't mean it that way. I've given some minimal thought to what I might name my kids when I have them. I'm leaning toward vintage names.
"She's named after my mother," he answers evenly. "Her maiden name was May."
I nod in understanding. "I should have realized you didn't live there when I was standing in the office. I knew something wasn't right. I wanted to ask you last night why you have the packaging from a smartphone that hasn't been sold in years on your desk."
His eyes drop to where his phone is resting on his leg. "Before last night I hadn't been to that apartment in more than a year. I have someone go there to check on it every two weeks. They dust and wash windows and do whatever else needs to be done. I gave them very strict instructions not to touch anything in the office because there are still some personal items in there. That's why it looks like a shrine to a day five years ago."
"The day May arrived?"
"Yes." He stiffens slightly. "I didn't put much thought into the move. I had other things on my mind."
An unexpected child and an entirely new life. I can't imagine being thrown into the role of parent and protector without a moment's notice.
"Why do you keep it?" I lean closer to him. "If you don't live there anymore, why keep the place?"
He shrugs as his hand slides from his leg to mine. "You could say that I'm keeping it for sentimental value."
I nod with a smile. "That makes sense. You keep an entire apartment because it has sentimental value while the rest of us just keep our mementos in a shoebox under our beds."