Chapter 47 #2
“That right there—that’s why. But you have the choice. Let me know what you decide.” I pause but add, “I love you.” I disconnect.
I don’t envy my mom. She got the same speech from my sister while I was in surgery after the whole debacle in Lakewood.
And Liam… Well, Liam won’t say it. It’s straight up assumed.
He wants nothing to do with our sperm donor, so I’m the third and final nail in the child and grandchild coffin.
That should be eye-opening. Instead, I’m afraid she sees it as three failures against her.
Sariah
I don’t know when kids go from sleeping like babies to tossing and turning in their sleep, but a foot in my lower back and an arm that’s not mine over my forehead seems an accurate metaphor for how things are going right now.
Renée is sound asleep. Eleanor is missing, and I’m contorted like a Cirque du Soleil performer mid-flight.
Sliding from under the covers, I stretch like that will help the wonky position I’ve been held in. Looking back to my girl, I note her sleeping face is peaceful. That’s the most I could ask after the last week… or month… or years.
I pad down the hall, tee askew and sleep shorts barely covering my ass and not caring one bit.
I pass Ci pacing the stone terrace, phone to his ear, and head straight for the coffee pot. I pour two mugs and am on my way to the deck when something catches my eye.
A list in Cian’s handwriting with two things scratched off.
What’s the status of the Laotians?
House before next school year?
Mom.
Therapist.
Connect2Coach owners – where are they?
Jonas.
What do we do with five teenagers?
Phoenix.
Who is Freddie Gauthier?
I drop an “S” near the house and school line item as well as the Freddie one.
I’ll ask Rosie about him today. To the therapist one, I add a question mark.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. I can’t really help with his new business and God knows I have no clue what to do about Jonas, but I can take two of these on.
I pick up the mug I’d set down and head for the door.
Ci is off the phone. He stares at the pavers while a strong hand tugs at the back of his neck. Whatever that call was about, it obviously wasn’t good. I pull the door, jostling the coffee until a trickle rolls down the side of one of the mugs.
“Quick.” I extend the mug, and he grabs it deftly. I shake the coffee off my hand. “Shit, that’s hot.”
“Good morning, Angel.” He takes my hand and kisses the inside of my palm, before dropping a peck on my lips.
“I have morning breath.”
“I have it’s-been-hours-and-I-haven’t-slept-yet-breath. We’re even.”
“Did you find Ruth?”
He shakes his head, but I didn’t need that indicator. The sadness on his face tells the story. “No. I’m no bounty hunter or PI. I’m a businessman who sorely lacks those talents.”
“You saved us in South Dakota.”
He pulls me into his chest, wrapping an arm low on my waist. “I had motivation. And my brother-in-law’s plane. Money makes a lot of things easier.”
“Let’s get some of that then.”
His chuckle rumbles from his chest and vibrates my body. “I’ll get right on that.”
Eleanor sashays to his side and sits, leaning on his leg, looking to him for validation. He reaches down and strokes her nose and behind her ears.
“I’ll work on the house and school thing today. I didn’t know it was that important to you.”
He pulls me back enough to hold my eyes. “I’m okay staying here. I’m okay moving. I only want what you and Renée need to be home. I don’t know a thing about schools or the education system.”
Laying my head on his chest, I wrap my free arm around him, pulling myself flush against him. “Thank you.”
“For what, Angel?”
“For being everything I could ever want and everything I didn’t know I needed.”
“Love you, Sariah,” he whispers.
“Love you, too, Ci.”
We stay like that until our mugs are dry. “What do we do about Ruth?” I finally ask.
“The right thing to do is report her as missing. Downside is we out ourselves as kidnappers when we do. I’d do it again, rescue her and the others, but strictly speaking, I think the legal system would disapprove.”
“The legal system can kiss my—”
The door cracks open. “Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
She extends her cell. “RoRo is on the phone for you.”
“Morning, Cian,” Renée offers quietly.
“Morning, “Née.” Cian grabs my mug and leaves me on the terrace, following my daughter and Eleanor inside, giving me privacy with my mom.
“Hello?” I ask.
“I’m happy for you,” Rosie says through the line.
“I am too. But I’m betting that’s not why you called.” I fold onto the lounge.
“I need to get back to the center. I’m—” she pauses. “Needed there. And I don’t have a handsome fellow to rely on.”
How have I not thought of this? None of us are independently wealthy.
“I can help.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You have your own bills, and you can spend the extra on my grandbaby. Or save it for my next one.”
I scoff, but she’s not wrong. We’re playing Russian Roulette with my ovaries at this point and if we’re not careful, we’ll have far more on that priorities list than figuring out someone else’s teenagers. We’ll have our own.
“Then what can I do?”
“I know of one thing, but it’s a tall ask…”
“More than me moving five,”—now four, I think—“teenagers into your home?”
“Okay, then, it’s a short ask.”
“Hit me.” I stretch my legs toward the morning sun and wiggle my toes. A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, and I smile at the man providing shade to my face.
“Are you moving out of your house?” Rosie asks tentatively.
“Officially, I don’t know.” I study Cian’s face and continue, “But, effectively, yes.”
“Would you be willing to rent it to a friend of mine?”
“I don’t see why not. Do I know her?”
“Him,” she corrects.
“Okay. Do I know him?”
Something I’ve said piques Cian’s interest, and he sits next to me, his hip at my waist.
“Before I say more, know that I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t trust him.”
This is not making me feel better.
“Okay…” The word is slow and cautious and certainly communicates my hesitancy.
“A friend needs a place to stay. And some stability. His family is, well, like yours was… Let’s just say they’re less dependable. I will cosign his lease if that makes you feel better.”
“No.” I can’t help the pause or the question that follows. “But why would he need a cosigner?”
“He’s solid, Sariah. I promise you that. But his background doesn’t include having an easy life. A good reference from a landlord would go a long way for him.”
“You know him from your work at the center?” I ask.
“Yes. He’s a good kid. He just needs a break.”
“What’s his name?” I don’t know why I ask. I’m fairly certain I’ll know.
“Freddie.”
Just as I suspected.
I look at Ci and return my focus to my call. “Who is he to you, Rosie?”
“I see myself in him. He’s one who can make it. I had Randy. He has me. He’ll make it, Sariah. I know he will.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll ask you to rent your house to me, and I’ll give him mine. But I’d be disappointed. Because you know what it’s like to need someone to look out for you and how incredible it is to have someone trust you when you’re at you need it most.”
Damn. She’s turning the screws hard.
“Can I meet him before I agree?”
“Sure. Today?”
“Let me talk with Cian and see how we can make this work. We haven’t even moved out and there’s Renée to think about.”
“Talk with him and call me back.” Then she adds, “It’s important to me.”
“You’re important to me,” I offer in return. “I’ll call you back in a bit.”
I click off and drop the phone in my lap, closing my eyes and dropping my head back. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Why do I feel like it’s always bad news?” Cian asks.
“In this case, it’s both… Or neither. I have no clue.”
“Angel, the suspense is killing me. Tell me.”
“We’ve been wondering who Freddie Gauthier was… Or is. Well, we’re going to find out. Rosie asked me to rent my house to him.”
“What?”
“She assumes we’re”—I gesture between us—“moving in together.”
“She’s right.”
“And that leaves us with one house extra. And she’s asking me to make it available for him.”
“Is he…” he pauses. “An addict?”
“She knows him from the center and not as an employee.”
“So an addict, then.”
“Be careful with that line of thought. You lump Rosie right along with him into that category. And you know who she is to me, what she’s done for me, and”—I wave a finger between us—“what she’s doing for us right now.”
“Shit.”
Exactly.
“How much time do we have to decide?”
I shrug. “She’d like to introduce us today.”
His eyes widen.
“My sentiments exactly.”