Chapter 32 #2
The café where we'd agreed to meet was a chic little place in the heart of Manhattan, known for its excellent pastries and coffee strong enough to wake the dead. I arrived early and snagged our usual corner table, ordering a round of coffees and settling in to wait.
Kate arrived first, elegant as always in a tailored dress that suited her perfectly. She slid into the chair across from me with a warm smile.
"You look different," she observed, tilting her head slightly as she studied my face. "Good different."
Before I could respond, Izzy appeared, dropping into the seat beside me with her usual lack of ceremony. "Sorry I'm late. Some asshole client thinks the laws of physics don't apply to his commission."
"You're not late," I pointed out. "Evie's not even here yet."
As if on cue, my sister waddled into view, one hand resting on her swollen belly as she navigated the narrow space between tables.
"Sorry, sorry," she said as she carefully lowered herself into the remaining chair. "Everything takes twice as long these days, including peeing, which I had to do three times on the way here."
Laughing, I reached over to squeeze her hand. "You look amazing, Evie."
She snorted. "I look like I swallowed a beach ball, but thanks for the lie."
"Pregnancy suits you," Kate said firmly. "You're glowing."
"That's sweat," Evie deadpanned. "Apparently growing a human is like having a personal furnace installed in your abdomen. But enough about my bladder and sweat glands." She turned her sharp gaze to me. "You had news?"
Three pairs of eyes focused on me with varying degrees of curiosity and anticipation. I opened my mouth, closed it, then blurted out, "I think I'm in love with my husband."
There was a brief moment of silence before Izzy let out a triumphant whoop that drew startled glances from nearby tables. "I knew it. It's the dick, isn't it? He's wielding that magical light saber like a Jedi master, am I right?"
"Izzy," Kate hissed, though her lips twitched with suppressed laughter.
I buried my face in my hands, mortified and amused in equal measure. "Can you not reduce my emotional revelation to Rafe's sexual prowess?"
"So you're not denying he has sexual prowess?" Izzy pressed.
"I'm not discussing the details of my sex life in public," I insisted, though I knew my flushed cheeks probably gave me away.
When I dared to look up, I found Evie watching me with an unreadable expression. Her opinion mattered most.
"Are you... okay with this?" I asked her hesitantly.
Evie and Kate exchanged a look, a silent communication between women who had both ended up genuinely loving the men they'd married for less-than-romantic reasons.
"I'm happy for you," my sister finally said. "Rafe is a good man. He's been Liam's rock for years. He deserves someone who sees past the walls he puts up. And you deserve someone who treasures you."
The knot of tension in my chest loosened. "Thanks, Evie. That means a lot."
"Now," Kate interjected, "are we ordering food, or are we just going to mainline caffeine while Izzy badgers Cece for inappropriate details?"
"Both," Izzy said decisively, flagging down a server. "I can multitask."
We ordered an assortment of pastries and sandwiches, the conversation flowing easily from my revelation to updates on everyone's lives. Izzy charmed us with tales of her latest demanding client, an up-and-coming artist with more ego than talent.
"He wants me to display his work under special lighting that, and I quote, 'mimics the glow of Venus as seen from Earth during a solstice.' Like, what the actual fuck does that even mean? I have an art degree, not a PhD in astrophysics."
Kate's update was all about the domestic chaos involving Millie's latest obsession.
"First it was just Jimin, now Wooyoung has joined the mix. There are posters everywhere. I found one taped to the ceiling above her bed. The ceiling. I don't know whether to be impressed by her determination or concerned about her neck."
"At least it's just posters," Evie pointed out. "When Cece was her age, she tried to mail herself to Leonardo DiCaprio after Titanic. Mom found her inside a refrigerator box with three sandwiches and a change of underwear."
We all burst out laughing, drawing more looks from nearby tables that we studiously ignored.
"How's the pregnancy?" I asked Evie in desperate need to change the subject. "Besides the constant peeing."
Her face softened. "It's... incredible. Terrifying, but incredible. Liam talks to my stomach every night." She shook her head as a fond smile played on her lips. "He spends thirty minutes telling my belly about his day and playing classical music through headphones he's rigged up."
"That's adorable," Kate said.
"It is," Evie agreed. "Also, if this kid doesn't come out reciting Shakespeare and Mozart, I'm going to be very disappointed."
As our lunch wound down, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude for these women. Each of us had taken such different paths, faced such different challenges, and yet here we were, united by love and friendship and the unshakeable belief that we had each other's backs no matter what.
"I love you guys," I suddenly blurted out. "Seriously. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Izzy slung an arm around my shoulders. "Getting sappy on us, Sutton? Or should I say, de Luca?"
"Shut up," I mumbled, but I leaned into her embrace anyway.
"We love you too," Kate said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "Even when you drop bombshells about Vegas weddings and falling for your fake husband."
"Not so fake anymore," Evie added with a wink.
We paid the bill and said our goodbyes outside the café, with promises to meet again soon. As I walked back toward the penthouse, I pulled out my phone to text Rafe as promised.
Me: Heading back now. Lunch was good. The girls send their love (and Izzy sends inappropriate questions about your anatomy that I refused to answer).
His response came almost immediately.
Rafe: I'm flattered by Izzy's curiosity, but my anatomy is for your eyes only. Looking forward to tonight, but might be late. Father wants me to see a client out of town.
I frowned at the mention of his father, who I knew had been pressuring Rafe about our marriage.
Me: Everything okay?
Rafe: Nothing I can't handle. Miss you.
Those two simple words sent a flutter through my chest. I quickly typed back.
Me: It's been like five hours.
Rafe: Five hours too long. Can’t stop thinking about how you looked this morning, all sleepy and naked in our bed.
A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the autumn breeze.
Me: Keep talking like that and I'll have to take care of myself before our date.
Rafe: Send pictures.
I laughed out loud, earning a curious glance from a passing dog walker.
Me: You're at work!
Rafe: Office has a lock on the door for a reason.
Me: Incorrigible.
Rafe: Only for you. What are you wearing?
Smirking, I typed out my response before I could think better of it.
Me: Green wrap dress. No bra. Tiny lace thong that would disappear if you slid a finger beneath it.
I watched the three dots appear and disappear several times before his response came through.
Rafe: You're killing me.
I grinned victoriously.
Me: Poor baby. I'm at the building now. See you tonight. Don't be too late.
Rafe: Wouldn't dream of it. Be safe.
I tucked my phone away as I entered the building, nodding to the security guards who now knew me by name.
The elevator ride to the penthouse gave me time to consider what I might wear for our date.
Something new, something Rafe hadn't seen me in before.
I wanted tonight to feel special, like the fresh start it represented.
When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped into the hallway with a lightness in my step that had been missing for too long. Even the lingering fear of the stalker couldn't dampen my mood.
That changed the moment I opened the penthouse door.
The silence hit me first. No Edward in the foyer to greet me, no sounds of Lucia puttering in the kitchen. Just a stillness that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Wrong. Everything felt wrong.
"Edward?" I called out. "Lucia?"
No response.
I moved cautiously through the entryway, my purse still clutched in my suddenly clammy hand. The penthouse was meticulously clean as always, nothing out of place, and yet something about the quality of the silence made my heart race.
"Edward?" I tried again, louder this time.
As I rounded the corner into the living room, the scream that tore from my throat seemed to belong to someone else entirely.
Edward and Lucia sat bound to dining chairs, duct tape across their mouths, blood trickling from wounds on their faces.
Edward's right eye was swollen shut, and Lucia's normally immaculate chef's whites were stained with crimson splotches.
Their wide, terrified eyes fixed on me, then darted to something—someone—behind me.
"Hello, little dancer."
The voice froze my blood. Soft, almost gentle, utterly at odds with the horror before me. I whirled to find a man stepping out from the shadows of the hallway, a knife held casually in one hand.
My stalker.