Chapter 24 Daniela #2
But if I do that, they’ll call the police, and the police will set up a sting, and the chef will smell it from a mile away. He’ll take it out on Belinda. He’ll teach her the kind of “lessons” he taught me in the pantry.
I cannot let that happen. Not to Belinda. Sweet, talented Belinda. She’s not innocent, thanks to her father, but how can she heal if Chef takes the bit of herself she has left?
If I keep the letter and go alone, I know what happens next. He will do what men like him do with women like me. He will hurt me because he can, and he will make me say please and thank you and anything else he wants to hear because I don’t want Belinda hurt.
I could tell myself that the police would be faster than Chef, that Vinnie would find him in time. I could tell myself that the chef is a coward and cowards prefer threats to action. But something could go wrong in either scenario, and I can’t risk Belinda. Not for a minute.
So I’ll go alone.
I’ll wear the fucking dress.
I still have it. It was so beautiful I couldn’t stand to part with it, but I never wore it again after that night.
I’ll wear it. If I can find it. If I can look at it. If I can stand the feel of it on my skin.
And I’ll trade myself for Belinda.
A breath in. A breath out.
It’s an easy decision. The simplest one in the world.
Belinda for me.
What it does to me is irrelevant. I’ve paid worse. I survived worse.
Not because I’m brave. It’s not a courageous thing I’m doing.
I’m scared to death.
But Belinda is more important than my fear.
I set the note on the nightstand and stand. My legs tremble a little, and I let them. Then I go to the closet and move hangers from right to left.
The blue dress is there, because of course it is.
I should have thrown it out long ago. Why didn’t I?
Maybe because I knew I’d need it someday.
And I was right.
I run the zipper down the garment bag and peel the plastic back.
I lift it off the hanger and hold it to me in front of my full-length mirror. The person looking back is a woman who has made it through hell and is still standing.
Still fucking standing.
I smile at her without teeth.
“I’m not yours,” I tell the dress.
What I mean is that I’m not Chef’s. I lay the dress on the chair by the window gently, as if it has meaning.
Which it does, of course. Just not good meaning.
I’m going in the morning.
That’s a given.
So what to do with today?
Already I know what I’ll do.
I’ll spend my last few hours of freedom with him.
With Hawk.
The man who has made choices I hate and still holds my gaze like he isn’t ashamed to show me the worst parts. The man who carries justice like a banner and a burden and sometimes forgets which one he’s waving. The man who makes my body remember it belongs to me.
I told myself I was going to keep him at arm’s length until he figured out the difference between fixing and owning. I told myself I’d let my head lead.
My head is very loud. My heart is louder. Tonight, my heart wins by a landslide.
If I have twelve hours left of making my own choices, I want to spend as many minutes as possible with the only person on this planet who makes me feel like I’m still whole.
I want his hands on my back and his mouth on my throat and the particular sound he makes when he stops thinking about right and wrong and just lets himself be a man who wants me.
I sit on the bed and breathe the way I taught Belinda to do before piano recitals. In for four. Hold for four. Out for eight. Again. The shakes soften. The edges of the room stop blurring.
Tomorrow I will be whatever a woman has to be to save a child.
Tonight I will be a woman who lets herself hold the man she loves because love is the only thing that has ever made her feel like she wasn’t just a tool someone else picked up for his own use.
I stand. I check my face in the mirror and say out loud, because saying it makes it real, and I want real tonight.
“I love him.”
My last night as a free woman will be spent the way I choose—wrapped in the only arms that have ever felt like a home no man can steal, memorizing the face I love so I can carry it with me where I am going.
Tomorrow, I will become a bargaining chip to save a child I love.
Tonight, I will be Dani.
My phone buzzes with a text from Hawk. He was thinking about me too!
I’ve got a medical appointment reserved at 2 in Austin. It’s for you. It’s elective. If you say no, we cancel and go get something to eat. If you say yes, I drive and keep my mouth shut until you want it open. Your call.
What the hell is he talking about? I text him back.
What kind of appointment?
The dots move…
Genetic testing. HD. Counselor on site. Private entry, no waiting room hell. No pressure.
He has some nerve. And in the middle of all this.
Don’t book things for me without asking.
The dots again…
You’re right. I’m sorry. I wanted the option. That’s all.
I pause then. He’s thinking of me, trying to take my mind off all my troubles. All his troubles. And I want to spend the next twelve hours with him anyway. Why not get the stupid blood test? At least then I’ll know for sure what Hawk wants to pretend doesn’t exist.
Pick me up at 1:15. Don’t be late.
I stare at the dress, wanting to tear it into shreds for about a half hour.
Then I call Hawk.