23. Dillan
23
DILLAN
I completely forget about my lunch. After Herbert gives me the address and name of the building, I pay for everything and jump on my motorcycle. I have a vague idea of where I’m going, and with my bike, I’m able to weave in and out of traffic.
The apartment complex is fairly rundown.
It stands tightly packed between two other buildings, tucked back from the road. Without wasting another minute, I park my bike and head for the main entrance. Too much time has been lost between me and Lizzie. If there’s even the slightest chance she feels the same way about me as I do about her, I’m not going to sit back anymore.
Someone walks out the front door, and I catch it before it closes. Slipping into the main lobby, I have a brief moment where I realize I have no idea which floor she lives on. Most mailboxes have no names attached to them, and if they do, they’re typically hard to read.
I don’t see an Elizabeth Moore, but I won’t be deterred.
Guess I’ll just take it one floor at a time.
I don’t care if I have to knock on every door. I’m determined to find her.
The first few apartments are a bust. Either the person doesn’t answer, or nobody is home. When I get to the second floor, however, my search is paused when the sound of somebody yelling hits my ears.
Concerned, I step out of the elevator to see a man at the end of the hall, banging on the door of an apartment.
“Lizzie! I know you’re fucking there!” His words have me crossing the hall in two strides. “Open the fucking door! I want my damn money!”
The guy looks sketchy as shit. Unshaven, dark-brown hair that needs a cut, a worn black leather jacket, and torn jeans.
“Hey, hey,” I say. “Keep your damn voice down. She just had a baby.”
“I don’t give a shit! She owes me five-hundred bucks, and I’m fucking tired of her ignoring me.”
I instantly realize there probably isn’t much I can say or do to calm this man down. He has already worked himself up to the point where spittle has gathered at the corner of his mouth. He looks like a rabid dog. In his hand, I can see the crumpled-up copy of a bill from a local towing company.
He starts pounding on the door louder, even going as far as kicking it.
“What the fuck, man?” I bark. “You’ll get your money when she can give it to you. I suggest you leave.”
“Who the fuck are you?” The man rounds on me. In his rage, he seems to ignore the fact that I’m a head taller than him and more muscular. “Stay the fuck out of my business. I don’t give two shits that that skank just gave fucking birth to some bastard child! I want my damn mon?—”
He doesn’t get to finish that sentence.
The second he insults Lizzie and the baby, I raise my fist and land a solid punch right in the center of his face. I hear and feel the crunch. He reels back with a howl, his hands immediately coming up to clutch his broken nose.
“What the fuck ?”
I grab the front of his jacket and yank him forward, practically holding him off the ground. “Listen very closely, buddy , because I’m only going to say this once,” I say in a calm, clear voice. “Don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. Lizzie has nothing to say to you. She’s got more important things to deal with than some asshole who doesn’t even have the common decency to let a new mom rest with her baby.”
“You’re fucking crazy! You’re?—”
I slam him against the wall so hard his head hits the plaster. “I am fucking crazy. Say one more word. Go ahead, please.”
He has enough smarts to keep his mouth shut.
I let go of him and reach into my pocket, pulling out some cash and sending it to his feet with a flick of my wrist.
“Here’s your money. You come near her again, you’re dead. Got it?” I flick the collar of his jacket, baring my teeth. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
He wastes no time scooping up the bills before making a beeline for the elevator. I watch him go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me as I see the blood dripping down his chin.
A moment after the elevator doors close, one of the neighbors opens their door a crack and peeks out. An elderly lady stares at me with a weary expression, and I immediately straighten my jacket.
“I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” I say, all manners in the face of someone older than me. “He should be gone now. I doubt he’ll be coming back.”
She opens the door a little wider, and I’m able to see she’s a short woman, with her gray hair pulled back into a tight bun and a worn green shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Good riddance, I say.” She speaks with a thick British accent and a tone of annoyance. “Poor Elizabeth has enough to worry about without Rex coming round here, giving her more grief. I always said he wasn't good enough. Ending things with him was the best thing she ever did.”
From inside the apartment, I hear a baby cry, and the woman’s expression immediately changes as she steps away.
Curious and not wanting to just stand in the middle of the hallway, I follow her inside. Her apartment is neat as a pin. It definitely is small, but she seems to have been able to make use of the space with various shelves and cabinets. It’s certainly well-lived in.
I’m surprised to see her picking up Isaac, rocking him to get him to calm down.
“I take it Lizzie isn’t home then if you’re watching the baby,” I say.
“No, she’s not.” The old woman turns to face me, waving me in with a wrinkled hand. “Come on in, dear. Don’t just stand there like a lump.”
I smile at her quirkiness and do as she commands, closing the door behind me. “I am actually hoping to see Lizzie myself. Though, under much better circumstances.”
The woman gives me a knowing smile that seems to stare right into my soul. “You wouldn’t happen to be the childhood friend she skipped out on her blind date for, would you?”
“I guess I am,” I say. “My name is Dillan.”
“Well, pleased to meet you, Dillan. You may call me Mrs. Loughty. Gosh, aren’t you a handsome young man,” she chirps.
Her compliment catches me off guard, but I can’t help but chuckle at her candidness. “Thank you, Mrs. Loughty.”
“ Exactly like this little fella,” she remarks, her gaze piercing into mine.
When I give her a friendly nod, she carefully puts Isaac back in his cradle now that he’s calm. I cross the room to stand at her side, smiling down at the baby. He has definitely grown in the days since I last saw him. His cheeks have filled out, and his hair is already growing thicker. I notice his eyes have lightened considerably and are gray rather than black.
“He’s a precious one, isn’t he?” Mrs. Loughty coos at the baby, gently stroking his tiny hand. “When Lizzie asked me to look after him for an hour, I absolutely jumped at the chance. Well, I mean, I jumped as much as an old bat like me can jump. If only I was fifty years younger.” She giggles, and her dentures almost fall out.
“Is she okay?”
“Oh, yes, she’s fine. It’s just that a possible studio venue has become available, so she wanted to go and take a look before it’s snapped up. Always on the go, that one. Even motherhood can’t slow her down.”
I am surprised, but honestly, I really shouldn’t be. I can’t help the fond smile that crosses my face. “She definitely is headstrong.”
Mrs. Loughty pats me on the arm. “I’ll get some tea on. You can keep an old woman company while you wait for your love.”
I raise my eyebrow at her choice of words, and she just gives me a smirk.
“I recognize love when I see it, dear,” she says, shuffling over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the room. “And anyway, I heard everything you said to that horrible ex-boyfriend of hers, Rex. You wouldn’t have bothered with him if you weren’t head over heels for the girl, am I right?”
“Is he Isaac’s father?”
“No, he is not.”
Well, that’s a relief. “Who is the father?”
“You seem like a bright young man—what do you do?” Mrs. Loughty asks, ignoring my question.
“I’m a doctor.”
“My best friend Linda’s son is a doctor. He’s very handsome too.” She fills a tea kettle with water before placing it on the stove. Isaac starts to whimper again, and she sighs. “Mind picking him up? Poor thing is probably missing his mum.”
“Sure.” I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over one of the kitchen chairs before carefully easing Isaac out of his cradle.
He settles almost instantly, nestling into the crook of my arm and popping a fist into his mouth.
“He must be hungry,” I comment. “Did Lizzie leave a bottle or anything?”
“I’ll get it. I don’t think it’s just hunger, though. I get the feeling that girl never puts the boy down. She’s going to spoil him, she is.”
“Nah, you can’t spoil newborns,” I say, carefully rocking Isaac back and forth. “Besides, can you blame her? He’s pretty damn cute.”
“You seem very comfortable with babies.”
“Well, I deliver them for a living. I have to be.” I glance up to find Mrs. Loughty watching me very carefully. Her expression is hard to read and makes me uneasy. “Everything all right?”
“What did you say your relationship to Elizabeth was?” she asks.
“Friends.”
“Oh really, is that so?” By her severe raised eyebrow, she doesn’t seem to believe me, or she knows something I don’t.
“Well, we were friends back in high school. There was always more between us, but we never really had a chance to explore it until recently.”
She nods for a few seconds, then she remembers something and looks back up at me. “She said something about not being able to reach her date the day after. She couldn’t read the handwriting on the note he gave her.”
Suddenly, a bunch of things start to make sense, and I can’t help but feel hopeful. “So that’s why she didn’t call?”
Mrs. Loughty chuckles. She puts the tea to boil and sets about warming up Isaac’s bottle. “You doctors do have terrible handwriting.”
All this time, I thought Lizzie had given me the brush off. It turns out she didn’t have a way to contact me. God. She must have been frustrated beyond belief. And then I didn’t catch her in the hotel after she’d waited for hours. She probably even thought I gave her a wrong number on purpose.
Shit.
I need to talk to her even more now.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” I ask.
“Should be any minute now. She’s been gone for a little while, and I know she doesn’t like to leave Isaac longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Then I’ll wait for her.”
Still cradling Isaac, I take a seat on Mrs. Loughty’s plastic-covered sofa.
“There’s a good lad,” Mrs. Loughty says with a nod of approval. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you. Now, how do you like your tea?”