Chapter 1 #2
I tell myself that I give Noah plenty of the important stuff that money can’t buy—hugs and love and cuddles at night.
Yet deep down, I know the truth. When I found out I was pregnant, I swore I’d give my child the best. Of course, money wasn’t an issue then.
Now, I can’t even guarantee we’ll have food on the table.
Because I screwed up.
In the worst possible way.
But I try not to think about that. The guilt is too damning. If I give in to those feelings, I’ll drown in them.
Yet I can’t ignore how my choices impacted Noah or what my actions meant for him. I’m made to face my mistakes over and over again, forced to admit all my broken promises when I look at my sweet little boy who’s lost in his own imagination and a paper plane because I can’t afford to buy him toys.
“Done.” Jazz turns to me, framed by small heaps of folded linen on the table behind her. “How about you?”
Straightening, I stretch my sore back. “Almost.”
I’m used to the work. The heavy lifting has strengthened my muscles over the years, and my body has grown fit from the exertion. However, I’ve been pushing myself extra hard to finish this job because I need the money. Every bone in my body is aching.
We finish sorting the boxes by clothes to be dropped off at charities, ornaments destined for pawn shops, and paperwork to be shredded.
I call myself a home organizer, but in reality, I’m a glorified maid who declutters and spring cleans other people’s messes.
The job doesn’t pay well, but my clients pay cash, which allows me to stay off the grid.
“So.” Jazz rights the last box with a foot. “Are you going to ask him, or am I?”
“Ask who what?”
“The hot handyman.” She pulls her shoulders up to her ears. “On a date.”
“No and no.”
She watches me without replying. I don’t bother to decipher her expression. It probably says I’m paranoid and pathetic. In both instances, that would be true. And if she thinks she can fix that, she’d be wrong.
I glance at the wall clock where the minute hand ticks onto four-thirty. “Let’s call it a day.”
I want to get out of here before the owner gets home. My working hours are designed to be convenient for my clients. I clean when they’re out, and when they return from work, I’m gone. I have my own reasons for maintaining minimal contact. The less I’m seen, the better for everyone.
Keeping as invisible as possible doesn’t come without complications when you’re trying to make a living and take care of a kid.
Someone who doesn’t want to be found can’t advertise.
All my referrals are by word of mouth. A burner phone serves as a method of communication, but I only use it for emergencies such as not being able to come in when Noah is sick.
“At last,” Jazz groans, massaging her lower back.
I shoot her a guilty smile. “You didn’t have to come.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not even going to validate that with an answer.”
I take my tote bag from where I’ve hooked it over the back of a chair. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”
“Plenty.” She grabs Noah’s backpack from the sofa and winks. “You can repay me by having my cooking turn.”
I was going to handle that chore anyway. Taking turns to make dinner was her idea. She only wanted to lighten my burden, but she hates cooking more than spiders and bugs, which is an awful lot.
I go to the window and pull the curtain open on a crack, just in time to see the handyman walk down the sidewalk with a toolbox in his hand.
His tall and bulky frame fills out his overalls.
A baseball cap is pulled low over his face.
The dark hair that shows beneath is cropped short.
He drops the toolbox in the back of the truck and folds his body double to get behind the wheel.
Before starting the engine, he adjusts a pair of aviator sunglasses and slides his gaze sideways.
For a terrible moment, I swear he’s staring right at me, that our gazes connect through a sliver of cheap sheer fabric. I drop the curtain like a hot potato, breaking out in a sweat, and give a start when a hand falls on my shoulder.
Spinning around, I’m met by Jazz who’s staring me in the face.
“Hey.” She studies me with a frown. “He’s just a handyman, Tiana.”
“Maybe.” I bite my lip and look back at the window. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”
Which kind of seems that way when the driver steers the truck into the street, and a few seconds later, the taillights disappear around the corner.
Either way, I’d feel better if we get out of here. I really need the money this job is going to bring, but if the truck is back tomorrow, we bail, money or not. I’ll just have to find another job elsewhere.
Unable to let my concern go, I hold out my hand to Noah. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.”
He bounces over with his plane but doesn’t take my hand. He’s developed a sudden allergy to holding hands. “Can I have nuggets for dinner?” He jumps up and down. “Please?”
I ruffle his hair. “If you eat all your carrot sticks.”
“Yuck.” He pulls a face. “I don’t like carrots.”
Pulling him against me, I sneak in a hug. “But they are good for you because…?”
He sighs in an animated way. “They help our bodies fight germs so that we don’t get sick.”
Exchanging the plane noises for the vrooommm of a car, he escapes my embrace and skips from the room with his arms stretched out in front of him and his hands gripping an imaginary steering wheel.
I stifle a yawn and go after him down the hallway.
Jazz falls in step next to me and nudges my shoulder. “Why don’t you relax in a warm bath when we get home? I’ll take Noah to the park before dinner. He can do with getting rid of all that pent-up energy. Otherwise, he’ll be too wound up to go to sleep.”
I’m tired to the bone, but I don’t want to make my problems Jazz’s. She’s done enough for me as it is. “I’ll be fine.”
Her soft blue eyes cloud over. “I don’t want you to end up in the hospital again.” She stops at the doorway of the kitchen and holds me back with a hand on my arm. “You have to take care of yourself.”
“That’s over now.” I keep an eye on Noah, who’s unlocking the back door. It’s his new favorite acquired skill. I make a mental note to remove the key tomorrow. “It was nothing.”
“Fainting from low blood pressure isn’t nothing. Admit it, Tiana. You wouldn’t have risked calling me to take care of Noah if it weren’t serious.”
She’s right. I had a fright. I didn’t want to drag her into my mess, but I had no one else to turn to and nobody I could trust to look after Noah.
Having gotten the door open, Noah jumps down the two porch steps.
“I’ve just been standing for too long,” I say, telling her what the doctor told me because he couldn’t be sure what had caused my pressure to drop so low.
All the tests he ran during the two days he kept me in the hospital came back normal. I’m still thanking my lucky stars for that.
“Exactly.” Jazz lets me go. “You’ve been on your feet all day, slinging a lot more boxes than me. Don’t tell me your muscles aren’t aching and your feet don’t hurt.”
Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I rest my head against hers. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” She wraps an arm around my waist. “That’s why I’m your bestie.”
Although that’s not how she means it, those words carry so much weight. Once upon a time, in our former life, she took enormous risks when I needed her, and here she is, taking them again.
Her unconditional friendship still makes me feel so damn guilty, but I suppress the dark thoughts that come with that notion. I may regret what happened for the rest of my life, but I can never change the damage I’ve done.
Perhaps this is a good moment to broach the subject that’s been on my mind for the last few days. “We need to talk about when you’re going back.” And more importantly, how to do it without anyone catching on to where she’s been.
She pulls away and comes to stand in front of me.
“I told you. I’m staying for as long as you need me, and you sure as hell do.
” I open my mouth to argue, but she silences me with a finger she holds up in front of my face.
“I don’t want to hear another word about it.
No one knows where I am, and no one will be looking.
I told everyone I was going MIA to have plastic surgery. ”
My jaw drops. “Plastic surgery? You’re the last person on Earth who needs to change your face or body.
Have you looked in the mirror?” I glance through the open door to where Noah is running around the backyard, making sure I keep him in my sight.
“You look like the love child of a model and a movie star. No one will believe that excuse.”
She dismisses my argument with a wave of her hand. “Darling, everyone in my circles has plastic surgery.”
“If they have the money.” And Jazz doesn’t. She spent the little savings from her gigs on a plane ticket to come and rescue me.
“Chill, Tiana. I could’ve met a sugar daddy or won big at the casino. Nobody really cares.”
I hope she’s right.
She hooks her arm through mine and marches me to the door. “I’m not going anywhere, not until I’m a hundred percent certain you’ll be all right, so you may as well get used to having me around for a while.”
Apprehension wins hands down over gratitude when it comes to my only friend’s safety. “You should head back. Once I get paid, I can buy a bus ticket.”
“Shush.” She hangs on my arm, giggling like a crazy woman when I knock into her. “Not another word. Just enjoy my wonderful company.”
It’s impossible not to enjoy Jazz’s presence. She’s the sister I never had. We haven’t seen each other in five years, yet we picked up right where we left off. For once, it’s nice not to be so lonely. I’ve been hungry for adult company, but I’ll never forgive myself if my selfishness gets her hurt.
“I’ll be okay,” she says, her tone insistent as we walk arm in arm to the recycling bins at the back of the house.