Chapter 2 #2
Truth is, we both ate after the wedding, but I'm happy to sit here and eat some more, because it feels like we're in this together. Anything that makes me part of her life is okay in my book.
May and Decker left for the Pennington House on the bluffs over Lake Michigan, gone a couple of nights.
I'm as gone over Leah as Decker was the day he met May, and I know it. But I need to give her time after everything that’s happened.
The last two weeks staying away nearly killed me, but last night when I saw her again, I knew right then I wouldn't be able to let her get away from me again.
The time is now, and I'm not wasting any more.
In the meantime, I've been making changes at my place.
I already border on neat-freak territory, but this is different.
I'm turning it into something that feels lived in instead of a hotel.
No one would ever guess anyone lives there.
I jet in and out on my way to work or the gym, and until recently, I never thought of it as home. Until Leah.
She's never set foot in it, of course, but I imagine her in every room: sitting at the kitchen table, lying in my bed, watching TV in the lounge. It makes me want to change everything for her. So I've gone shopping.
I bought fucking throw pillows, for crissakes. Sheets and towels I think she'd like. I even stop every few days to buy flowers and set them in vases around the place. Practice, I tell myself, for when I get her there for real. Because I need her to see it as home.
Not just a place she'd want to be, but a place where we could raise a family. That's how gone I am over this girl, and we haven't even been on a date. Not that I want to date her. I already know everything I need to know, and she's mine, she just doesn't realize it yet.
I think of her life before now.
The mansion.
The staff.
The limos.
It's a different world, and I won't pretend I haven't wondered whether what I can give her would ever be enough. She grew up in a castle. Money was never the question.
But I want to take care of her in other ways.
I'm not poor by any stretch. I've saved almost every dime I've ever made, because until now, I had no interest in spending it on anyone. I take care of my mom, but she's about the only thing I spend money on.
I want to take care of Leah's body and her soul, not just her bank account. I want her fed and rested and laughing, tucked in at night with nothing chasing her into her dreams. I want her happiness to be my job, because when she smiles, nothing else matters.
And I want to know about the Pop-Tarts.
"So." Henrietta pulls a side of beef out of the oven, a cloud of steam rising around her as she sets the roasting pan on the stove, grabs the knife, and starts carving out pink and brown pieces of meat.
"Now what? You coming back to the house?
What do you want to do, now you can do anything you want? "
"Well." Leah looks over at me and finds me looking right back. "I'm not sure what's left to do with the police and the attorneys."
Henrietta waves her quiet before she can go further.
"You let those attorneys worry about that.
You pay them. That's it. They take care of the rest." She waves the towel in her hand around her head.
"Victor already took his deal, and Simon will plead guilty to something smaller.
That's what you said, yes? So that means there is no trial.
Yes?" Henrietta raises her eyebrows at Leah as her hands go back to serving heaping spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and cooked carrots onto two plates.
When she's done, she reaches for that knife again.
Seems she's more comfortable with it in her hand.
Leah opens her mouth to argue, but a single glare from Henrietta kills it.
"No ‘buts’. You get on with your life, Zabka, they stole enough from you already.
Right?" She stabs the knife in the air toward me again, and I grin.
She's a tough piece of leather, I'll give her that, but she's not intimidating me.
I like her. "Am I right? She needs to go live her life.
Young, beautiful girl like her, locked up in that house for all those years. It is time she looks after Leah."
"I agree. One hundred percent." I lean back in my chair and watch Leah roll her eyes, but she can't fight the smile pulling at her lips.
What I want to say is that it's time someone looked after her. And that someone is going to be me.
"Good. See?" Henrietta swishes her knife, pointing it at Leah.
"May doesn't need you taking care of her anymore.
You did a good job, but now you take care of Leah.
Look after Leah." Henrietta's eyes shift, and she sets the knife on the table, opens up a cabinet, and pulls out a white-capped, orange prescription bottle.
"You haven't been taking your medicine. I count, and they're all still here.
" She shakes the full bottle like a rattle.
Leah's shoulders pull up, and she leans her head away from me.
"Henrietta." Her voice falters as she shifts in her chair, her hands folding on the table, fingers toiling and tangling.
On her right ring finger sits a thin rose-gold band, worn and slightly bent, an inscription engraved around it I can't read.
Leah's face hardens. "I told you, I'm not taking them.
I'm not." She looks up at the ceiling, and the kitchen light catches the tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
I lean forward, softening my voice. "Why don't you take them?
" I want to help her so bad it aches, and the way Wilson and Henrietta both lord over her like a child sets my teeth on edge.
I need to understand this, so I can take care of her.
"Leah. Can you tell me why you don't want to take them? " Her face goes a deep pink.
Henrietta doesn't give her a chance to answer. "This is for her own good," she says, echoing my thoughts. "This is not the same as that man that hit her, high on drugs, high on pills. I wish she would see. These are for her pain. Zabka, please."
Henrietta's voice softens as she sets the bottle back on the counter. She draws a long breath, shoulders slumping, and I can tell this is an old battle. Not one she expects to win today, but she'll fire off a few volleys to let Leah know she's still dug in.
She lets the sigh go, grabs the two heaping plates, and sets them in front of us both.
"I won't take the pills. I won't take drugs.
" Leah's voice climbs, like a kid refusing the plate shoved in front of her.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. You seem to forget that I'm in charge here.
" Leah's manner turns cold. Whatever this conversation is about, it's hurting her, and I hate it. "I will not be like that man."
"What man?" I ask, already angry at whoever he is.
Leah's eyes dart from Henrietta to me, and her voice rises another notch when she speaks.
"The man that drove the car that hit us that night.
He killed my parents. He was taking all kinds of prescription painkillers.
And he walked away with barely a scratch.
How's that for justice? I can't stand anyone that has anything to do with drugs.
No one in my life will ever bring that around me.
Ever." Her lips tighten as she picks up a fork and stabs a carrot, pushing it around on her plate.
"Fine. You the boss. I'm leaving." Henrietta announces, slapping her hands down her apron.
"I'll be back tomorrow evening. You call Fredby or Wilson if you need anything tonight, yes?
I have to go to my son's wedding, otherwise I be right here.
Why he needs a wedding for third marriage…
stupid." She mutters, then adds something in Polish I can't decipher before going on.
"He's too American. All this modern living.
Marry. Divorce. Marry. Divorce." She reaches for her jacket and purse, picking them up from the end of the counter.
"Take the pills, don't take the pills, but make sure you eat. You make sure she eats, yes?"
"I will." I smile, my heart thumping, already running through all the other things I want to do to her. Then it hits me. She'll be alone here tonight. May and Decker are gone, and I don't like it one bit.
Henrietta swears in Polish and bustles out the back door, leaving me with a hard-on I can't contain and a heart that aches for this beautiful, broken girl beside me. I can't help it when my fingers lift to tuck a silken tendril of her hair behind her ear.
"And I don't think she means Pop-Tarts," I add, and Leah smiles. "But, just so you know, I love blueberry ones myself."
My hand rests on the side of her head a moment too long.
And to my surprise, rather than slapping me away, she leans into my fingers.
There's no force on earth getting me out of this house tonight.