Chapter Four Jasper and Loretta
“Your wife won’t mind?”
I freeze in the driveway of my too-big-for-one-person house.
Loretta chose my hospitality over a hotel, and I was only too glad to give it.
But I never realized she thought I was married.
“Oh, gosh. I’m not married. I mean, I would love to be, but I haven’t found Miss Right yet.
” Lies, more lies. I think I’m staring at her, and my heart hurts because someone rotten got to her first. “I’m sorry, I never said.
Um. It’s not too late for me to take you to a hotel?
Seriously, no trouble. There’s a Holiday Inn—”
“No. No, I don’t mind. I just thought you must be.”
“Yeah. Thirty-five and still single. I promise it’s not because I’m a loser or a slob.” I push open the door, and Loretta gasps. The house is pretty nice. I like things neat, some sort of rebellion at the wild raging that sears inside of me three nights a month.
“It’s beautiful. You’re sure you don’t mind having a barfing infant in the house?”
“Hell, no. I mean, um, heck, no. Sorry, little ears.” I help carry in the Crib-2-Go portable sleeper, and Loretta hauls the carseat-carrier, diaper bag, and her purse.
In the bright lights of my living room, she looks like she hasn’t slept in days—but she’s still beautiful.
“You must be hungry. I heard you mention you needed to eat to be able to nurse. You need extra calories, right? I can do something like a steak and baked potato... I can do pasta. I have pierogies in the freezer...” I’m probably babbling.
I really wish I could hold the baby. I wish I could help.
“Do you have a maid?”
“No.”
“So you keep it clean like this?”
“Well, I don’t get to have a lot of company over, so it stays neat. I hang out a lot at other places. It’s a house, not so much a home, because there’s no family in it. Sorry, not the right time to talk about that.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I just... It’s huge. And beautiful. I had no idea local reporters had such grand homes. And also, I’m so sorry. That’s so crass of me, I just... It’s really lovely and elegant, and I’m so afraid of messing it up.” She shudders suddenly.
I brush her arm to take the diaper bag from her, and I suddenly feel a jolt of pure terror.
Man’s voice. Shouting. His face pressed so close to mine that his spit hits my cheeks.
“You wanted to be the happy little housewife, Loretta! I’m working ten-hour days, and I come home, and there’s laundry everywhere.
Dishes from breakfast still in the sink.
But you had time to go to story hour at the library and then get a ten-dollar doughnut and coffee, right?
No wonder Arianna won’t sleep through the night, with you slugging down the java like some rich bitch! ”
A stabbing pain radiates through my shoulder.
Door edge. Shoved into it.
Stumbling apologies. A plea to calm down. A plea not to wake the baby.
A wail of an unhappy little one, and then the sound of glass shattering. Someone threw something on the floor.
I swallow several times so I don’t gasp or scream out loud.
Werewolves don’t usually have any psychic party tricks. Nope. None.
But some can see what their mate is feeling, tap into their emotions, and what’s running through their minds, particularly if they’re in a seriously heightened emotional state.
Loretta is going through hell, and has been for a long time, and she couldn’t even tell. Now, the sight of a clean house is tied to some a-hole’s expectations and demands for perfection. Fear of the baby being a baby scares her shitless.
“Please don’t worry if Arianna makes a mess.
I love kids. I wish I had some of my own.
It would be so nice to have a cluttered playroom, and messy fingerpaintings on my fridge, and crumbs on the table from toddler snacks, and little handprints on my shirt because they just can’t wait to hug me when they see me. ”
“H-how did you know I was thinking about that?” Her voice is low, still shaking.
“If I told you I was psychic, you’d be freaked out.
I’m not. I just... Sometimes I have a sixth sense about people and what they’re going through.
Weatherman’s intuition,” I wink. “I’ll make some dinner, and you find a spot for the crib.
Would you feel safer in the living room or upstairs on the second floor in an actual bedroom? ”
“Second floor. Are you—are you on the second floor?”
“I am, but I don’t mind sleeping up in the armchair if you want to stay down here and you want someone nearby. Do you think your husband might be following you?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know.” Loretta rakes one hand through her hair.
“No. No, I don’t think so. Not as long as I keep my phone off.
We have a family location-sharing app, and since the account and phones are in his name, he can re-activate it even if I turn it off.
I never thought that was sick before. I mean—a lot of my friends have the same app, and they love it.
They keep track of their kids and spouses while traveling, and they don’t worry as much when their kids are at college or if they’re out alone at night.
It used to make me feel safe. He used to make me feel safe.
I... I feel so incredibly stupid.” The hand tightens on her scalp, and the perfect sweetheart hairdo crumples.
“It’s not stupid to love someone and trust them.
It means you have a good heart. Now, you go get comfy.
There’s a landline in the office upstairs; you could call your parents again, or call some friends you trust. Tomorrow morning—well, maybe tomorrow afternoon, I can introduce you to some friends of mine who deal in family law.
If you want to pursue a divorce, they could help. ”
Loretta nods, a numb, tired look in her eyes. “I guess that has to be what I want.”
“Well. You don’t have to rush. You’re welcome here as long as you like.”
THE ROOM UPSTAIRS IS muted, whites and grays, with lamps that give off soft yellow light. I change into an oversized shirt Jasper gave me, change Ari again, and sit on the edge of the bed, holding her, humming.
She pulls my hair, looks up at me with perfectly innocent blue eyes, wide, dark blue eyes that should never look scared.
“I didn’t know Daddy was going to act like this.
And I don’t... I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, baby.
I’m so sorry. He...” I stop short of saying that Matt was a good man.
“I believed he was a good man, and yet I’m worried that it was always an act, but also that my stupidity in just running away is going to ruin your life.
” I’m worried that if I stay, it’ll ruin her life, too.
It’s not stupid to love someone and trust them.
Mr. Wainwright—Jasper—seems like he has a genuinely good heart. If I weren’t so clearly challenged at picking men, that’d be the kind of man I’d want to date.
I’ll never date again. Never feel love again. Never feel safe or confident again.
“I’m spiraling,” I tell my daughter with a deep breath. I always used to be so calm.
Anger flares in me, towering over the dread and sadness. Arianna pulls herself up and down on my knee, scooting her padded bottom as best she can.
Time is going so fast. Yesterday, I was on the way to the hospital to have her.
Yesterday, Matt was always happy.
As long as you gave in and life went the way he wanted.
Your wants matched. You wanted the simple life of taking care of a home, a family, and children.
You were prepared to navigate the bumps.
He had to have the road smooth at all times, and if not, he steamrolled over you or pounded you down until things were “perfect” again.
My inner voice is telling it like it is, and my anger grows. Now what kind of life will Arianna have?
Single mom working all the time to afford childcare.
Praying every second she’s out of my sight that Matt doesn’t find her.
But he’ll have to find us eventually. Custody battles.
Praying that the judge won’t grant him shared custody, but it’s my word against his, so he’ll win at least some time.
What if he says I’m unstable, that I ran away, abducted her?
What if I lose Ari completely? Praying that he doesn’t hurt her to hurt me.
Would he do that? I suddenly don’t know.
“May I come in?”
I gasp and rise, bare knees knocking together, hurriedly smoothing down the shirt that’s acting as a daringly short dress. “Of course!” I mean, it’s his house.
It’s a lovely house. Neat and sterile.
He said he’d love to have kids messing it up.
I shake my head to clear the completely random and very inappropriate thought popping into my head. A thought that countermands my whole “I can’t trust men, and I’ll never love again” self-lecture.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, so I brought everything.” Jasper opens the door and brings in one television tray, then another, both piled high with food. He must have been setting them up outside the door. Carrying things up the stairs. Serving. Waiting on his guests.
“I would have come down.”
He nods, then looks sheepish. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I like taking care of people. I’m sorry you’re in this mess, but I can try to make it better, right?”
I nod and look at the steaming plates, enough food for five people. “I could never finish all of this.”
“You could try. You have to feed little Miss Bright Eyes. Can I hold her while you eat?” He offers.
“The crib is in the hall, too. I can bring it in and set it up if you think she’s tired of being held.
Ooh, I’ll move the coffee table out of the living room and vacuum the floor so she can crawl around down there.
I can pick up outlet covers tomorrow. Wait, I can order them and have them delivered overnight.
” He pulls out his phone with an excited expression.
I have to laugh. “We’re not going to be here that long. I wouldn’t want to put you to any more trouble. You’ve done so much.”