Pretty Little Wife(36)
She put her hand over his knee. Not something she usually did in public, but it felt right. “From what I can tell, your dad was—”
“A complete asshole.” They both laughed at the topic even though it wasn’t funny. “He taught through shame and by wielding his belt. Nothing I ever did was good enough. Jared was the star. The one who listened and learned. I just wanted out.”
He rarely talked about his upbringing. She knew bits and pieces but not specifics. He didn’t share details. “Neither of us had it easy, but I’m happy Jared was there for you.”
“You experienced shock and horror growing up. You understand an adult’s life isn’t about rainbows and romance.”
She smiled at him because they really were the worst at those sorts of lovey-dovey things. She’d only remembered his birthday last year because Jared called and asked if he could bring over Aaron’s present. Without that call, she would have zipped right over it, and she didn’t think he would have cared. They weren’t celebration people.
“We give each other the stability we missed.” She swallowed as she said the words, both grateful that they never strayed from being on the same page and wistful for what might have been if she were a different person.
“Right.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “We have expectations.”
Something about that word struck her the wrong way. “Are we broken?”
“We’re more like . . . bent.” They both laughed at that, but he kept going. “With you I can be imperfect. I can retreat, and you understand. We both need time by ourselves. Who else would get us?”
“I guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”
Her mind went to her new client and the kick of need that moved through her when he smiled at her last week. She hadn’t felt that sort of longing to get to know someone in, well, almost forever. Heat, interest, need. The unexpected sensations had pumped through her and had her questioning her neat, boxed-up little life with Aaron.
But nothing could happen. That client would want normal. She’d never been normal.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON THE NEXT DAY BEFORE THEY TRACKED down Ryan Horita. The Ithaca College professor’s office and home phones went direct to voicemail. Then he had classes and office hours. Now he sat at his desk, across from Ginny and Pete in his cramped, dark office, and frowned. “I’m a little confused about why you’re here.”
Ginny studied the man for a few seconds before answering. Unlike many people, his photos on social media and in the school records matched the live version. Black hair and attractive. Very fit with an open friendliness about him. He looked about thirty but actually was in his midforties.
The rest of the personal stuff she knew—smart, from a family of academics, divorced twice but close enough to both women to still go on vacations together and take photos, active in the local music scene. None of it mattered much except that some of his habits, like attending book signings and open mic nights, made him seem far more outgoing than the woman with whom he’d been spending so much time lately.
Speaking of . . . “We’re here about Lila Ridgefield.”
A small smile came and went on his lips. No other sign of familiarity, but that was good enough to grab Ginny’s attention.
He nodded. “My real estate agent.”
They’d uncovered that piece of information as well. For Ginny, a deeper dive was in order. “Her husband is missing.”
His eyes widened. “Missing?”
That look . . . Ginny wasn’t convinced he sold it. “The disappearance has been all over the news.”
“I must have missed it.”
“He failed to show up to work five days ago. No one has seen him since.” Pete studied the books on the shelves next to him. He stopped scanning long enough to stare at Ryan. “It’s unclear if he’s taken an unexpected trip, if something happened to him on the way to work, or . . .”
Ryan shrugged. “Or what?”
Pete shrugged right back. “We’re not sure.”
“Okay, but what does this have to do with me?” Ryan shifted to the front of his chair with his fingers linked and hands resting on the desk.
Ginny looked for signs of fidgeting or discomfort but couldn’t pick up anything. Ryan handled the conversation in the dispassionate way someone might if they only knew their real estate agent as their real estate agent.
She wasn’t convinced. “How did you pick Lila?”
“She was recommended by another professor.”
“Are the two of you close?” Pete asked.
He frowned. “She sold me a house. One of the new builds on Crescent Way.”
“That’s it?” Pete asked.
“I’ve never met her husband.”
The words fell with a plunk. He offered them fast, and it wasn’t the expected response to anything he’d been asked. To keep him talking, and potentially trip him up again, Ginny shifted to information she knew and didn’t care much about. “When did you buy the house?”
“About four months ago. We had a quick closing because the sellers needed to get into a new school district before the year started.” He rubbed his hands together. “We looked for houses on and off for a few months prior to that.”