Chapter 18
Maya
He bought tickets to California.
The words circle my brain as Soren disappears, chasing Bella with a Nerf gun he pulled from the giant toy chest.
He was serious. As serious as I had been when I’d packed my bag. We were going to elope.
As eighteen-year-old kids fresh out of high school.
Ridiculous, I know. But he was the one. For him, I felt the kind of love I never had before and never have since.
He was going to get a job as a mechanic to help put me through school at Stanford, my dream school I’d been accepted to but didn’t have the money to attend.
Then we’d go wherever archeology took me.
My parents were going to kill me, but I was smart.
I’d gotten into Stanford after all. They’d see it wasn’t a foolish teenage dream. We were going to make a life together.
I sat on my luggage in my room that night, waiting for the knock that never came. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t stop my legs from shaking as I waited, and waited.
I cried myself to sleep, and when I awoke, I expected him to be there, begging for my forgiveness.
But that never came either. I felt like a fool for believing him.
I knew it had been too good to be true—that he would give up everything in his life to make sure I achieved my dreams. I felt selfish, but more than that I was hurt, so certain it was all a lie, that he’d never meant a word. How else could he utterly ghost me?
But he had made a plan. He was going to take me to California.
That small, insignificant piece of information seems to wind its way through time, easing the edges of the pain.
But what happened next? Why didn’t he come? His confession brings more questions than answers.
A high-pitched laugh echoes throughout the penthouse, dragging me to the current moment. The one where the man I’d once considered marrying is now a thief and having a Nerf battle with the child under my guardianship.
It feels like a fever dream. If I’m going to wake up soon and it will all be over, I want to enjoy it while it lasts.
I run to the pantry and reach behind the two big bags of flour where I hid Bella’s best Nerf gun two months ago after she’d given me a black eye with it. Time to pay back my old fiancé.
In retrospect, I should have considered the gun to be too dangerous to aim at a child.
“You killed me!” Bella whimpers dramatically, her body a limp noodle on the floor where I made my “kill shot.” “I’m dead, I’m deeeeeaaaad.”
She’s quite vocal for the departed.
“What were you thinking?” Soren asks in mock accusation.
I glare at him. “I was aiming for you.”
“You broke my hand,” Bella says through her sobs.
I rein in my patience. “Let’s get you some ice.”
She throws her other arm over her face. “I can’t walk.”
Naturally.
Soren bites back a laugh and scoops the little girl off the ground and into his arms. I’m not at all jealous of the way she gets to cuddle into his chest.
Bella flashes me a wry grin as she passes.
The girl makes a formidable opponent.
I retrieve an ice pack, wrap a towel around it the way Bella likes, and meet them in the living room.
Bella is lounging on the couch like an Egyptian princess waiting to be fanned and fed grapes by a handsome man. Said handsome man is falling for her ruse hook, line, and sinker.
Maybe I should be worried she’ll steal my ma—
No.
He’s not mine.
There’s no way I’ll let myself fall for him after one little confession. He still has much more to explain. And of course, he’d have to stay out of prison. Then again, after the Hartwells find out how I’m assisting in this holiday heist, I might be there as well.
People get married in prison…
I shake my head free of the absurd thought.
“Do you think we should take her to the doctor?” Soren asks as he sits beside her examining the “broken” limb. “She’s really babying it and can barely squeeze my fingers.”
Yes, I’m sure she’s babying it.
Bella pouts, blinking her big puppy-dog eyes. “It really hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” I kneel beside her, positioning the ice around her hand. “Tell you what, if this doesn’t help in the next thirty minutes, I’ll take you to the doctor to get a cast. You won’t be able to play video games for six weeks, but if that’s what it takes…”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “I can’t play video games?”
“I couldn’t when I broke my hand. Could you?” I frown and look at Soren.
His brows furrow, but understanding lights in his eyes. “Ah… no. Nope, couldn’t play the harp or do backflips, either.” He tacks on with a sarcastic attitude Bella thankfully doesn’t pick up on.
“You can do a backflip?” Bella asks.
Soren shakes his head, looking at the ground in dejection. “Not since I broke my hand. It was the start of my downfall.”
I roll my eyes and pinch the back of his arm. He snatches my hand, covering it with his, holding it behind him where Bella can’t see.
I stare at his broad back, trying to summon the courage to rip my hand away, but it feels nice. Familiar. He squeezes my hand and then lets go.
What did that squeeze mean? I shouldn’t read into it. But I’m an archeologist. Digging into things and looking for meaning is my job.
I swallow. Not anymore. There’s nothing left here to find.
“Oh, well… I’m sure the ice will help.” Arabella huffs, lifting her chin.
“I’m sure,” I say, internally applauding myself for effectively quashing her dream of getting a cast on Christmas. She would have used it to make her friends do her bidding throughout the new year. This little girl doesn’t need that much power.
“So, what are we going to do now?” Bella asks, sounding very put out.
“Hmm.” I plop down on a chair, trying not to grimace when I nearly shatter my tailbone on the hard cushion.
My head is still sensitive to quick movements, so I ease back gently.
“Let’s see, we’ve been hot tubbing…” Arabella grins without guile, and I continue.
“We’ve baked and played and watched movies. What would you like to do?”
Bella purses her lips and looks up at Soren. “When do you have to leave?” Her voice is pitiful, and I almost applaud her for it.
“I…” Soren glances at me, then back at her, seeming to make up his mind. “I’m at your service, m’lady.”
What a sap.
Bella giggles. “I want another show. Put on a play.”
“Us?”
She rolls her eyes and points at her hand. “I’m clearly not fit for such a task.”
I stifle a laugh. Sometimes she talks like a lady; other times, like a child.
I only wish her parents allowed her to be a child more.
When she’s not at school, she’s at music lessons or language lessons.
Never does she get to play with a friend.
I have tried to make up for the disparity as much as possible, but one adult can only do so much.
“All right.” Soren agrees, rubbing his hands together. “What would you like us to perform?”
“Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. When Ron and Hermione destroy the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.”
I don’t have to think about it long; we watched the movie last week. That’s the scene where they kiss.
I choke on the air, which has grown a bit too warm for this blustery Christmas day. I cannot kiss Soren. Nothing would complicate things more.
“I’m unfamiliar…” Soren starts. “Does it have something to do with Voldemort?”
“Yes. I’ll be Voldemort and you will be Harry. I’ve been wanting to kill you.”
Bella giggles. “No, you’ll be Hermione, duh. And he’ll be Ron.”
“What about The Hunger Games?” I try. “I make a mean Katniss.”
Soren raises a brow. “Would that make me the bread boy or the hunter?”
“You did make us breakfast,” Bella offers so helpfully.
“I was thinking more of Cato. I could shoot an arrow at him.”
Soren looks at me, the tiniest hint of concern in his dark eyes. “Surely bows and arrows can’t be found in this penthouse?”
I shrug, letting him come to his own conclusions.
“We’ll go a different direction,” Bella says. “Warm Bodies.”
I’m not partial to zombies, but I guess it could be worse. “Easy peasy. You run through the house while I try to kill you,” I say to Soren.
“No, I’m thinking of the water scene,” Bella says.
Soren looks confused.
“The one at the end. When she turns him into a human with her kiss.” She blinks her eyes dramatically as if it will help get her point across. “And then he gets shot.”
There’s something seriously wrong with this girl. But if death is what she’s searching for…
“What about A Quiet Place, the scene where John Krasinski tragically dies?” I clasp a hand to my chest trying to sell it for all I’m worth. “Broke me.”
Soren stalks around the room until he’s directly behind my chair. “Are you scared, Penny?”
“Not at all.” But my voice squeaks, giving me away.
He leans down until his lips nearly brush my ear. “Then kiss me and don’t feel a thing.”
My stomach tumbles.
I fear I’m already down for the count.