35. Sterling
A week later…
“This place is a dump,” I said as I pulled into the apartment complex where Cecelia was living. I pulled the SUV over into a guest parking space and checked the address the PI texted to me.
It was the right place. Apartment 3A, ground floor, back. The complex was one of those made up of several long two-story buildings arranged in a U-shape. There were two clusters of those, making up two public courtyards. Apartments lined the inner side of the U, and some were located along the outside. The walkways and stairs were along the outside of her building.
I navigated the car around the side of the building where her apartment should be. I recognized her car and parked next to it. I unfastened Georgie’s car seat and carried it with me. She was asleep. It had been a long ride.
I spent most of the time talking to her, letting her know what we were up to. I had continued to talk, mostly to myself but out loud, even after I knew she had fallen asleep.
I found apartment 3A and knocked. I stepped back so that if Cecelia looked out the window or through a peephole in the door, she would be able to see me clearly. Nerves I hadn’t expected or experienced in a very long time made me antsy.
The door opened. A woman with a purse hooked over her shoulder answered the door. She was dressed to go clubbing in a short form-fitting dress and towering heels. Her hair was slicked back, and her jewelry was oversized. She started when she first saw me, then she scanned me up and down like she was checking me out. “Who are you?” She leaned against the open doorjamb.
“I was told Cecelia Harrison lives here.”
I stepped back, giving this unknown person room when she took a step toward me. She wiggled her hips from side to side and flipped her hand over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes. “Her? Yeah, she’s in there.”
She sashayed away, leaving the door open.
“Don’t just leave the door open! Jeez, who the hell is it?” I heard Cecelia call out from inside the apartment. “I fucking hate this place.”
“Cecelia?” I called out before stepping inside.
The apartment was dark with just the flicker of the TV. It took my eyes a moment to adjust.
“Sterling?” she asked as she uncurled from a pile of blankets on the couch.
“Cecelia.” After I closed the front door, I put Georgie’s car seat down and went to her, arms outstretched.
She came to me, and then I had her in my arms. She clutched me with desperation.
I peppered her hair with kisses and smoothed my hand over her head and shoulders. She shook in my arms. I knew she was crying.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you now. It will be okay.” Cecelia clutched my arms and looked up into my face. Hers was streaked with tears.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came looking for you. You just left,” I said.
“I thought you didn’t care. I had to leave. They made me come here for the job.” She took in a shaky breath.
Guiding her back to the couch, I pulled her down with me so that I could continue to hold her. She settled in against my chest. I held her for a long, quiet moment. My heart settled, finally at peace at having her back where she belonged.
And then she hit me. It wasn’t a hard hit, but she slapped her hand against my chest. “You made me think I was crazy and that you wanted to break up. Why didn’t you say anything? You just let me leave.” She sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
I reached out to wipe away her tears, and she swatted at my hand like an angry cat.
“I’m sorry about that.” I closed my eyes and searched for the right words. “I messed up. You were upset, and then Georgie was screaming. I didn’t know what to do. I was going to make the wrong move no matter what I did. By not doing anything, I still made the wrong move. You were hurt and angry. And you dropped a couple of bombs on me. You thought Peggy Stanholt was spying on me, on us. And you were moving. My brain latched onto your moving when Georgie started screaming.”
Cecelia wiped her face again and pushed off the couch. She crossed the small living room and crouched down to look at Georgie.
“I missed you, baby,” Cecelia said softly. She looked over at me. “I missed you too.”
“I’ve been miserable,” I admitted. “Have you been here the entire time? Did you come back to Dallas at all?”
She shook her head. “I closed up my apartment, expecting to have to pack up and move. But they keep stringing me along. And as long as they are giving me a place to live, I guess this is what I’m doing for now.”
“You don’t want to be here,” I said.
She shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice right now. And no, I don’t. But job leads are scarce, and I need a job with benefits right now. I can’t just go back to being a cashier.”
“Why?”
She glared at me.
“No, sorry, stupid question. Yes, insurance is important. I figured you left your phone back in Dallas, then?”
Cecelia nodded. “And my bag. At first, I thought that had been dumb. It”s a good bag. But with the roommate I’ve had this week, I’m glad I didn’t bring anything valuable. I don’t trust her. But yeah. The phone and all that are back at my place in Dallas. Why?”
“I’ve only left you about a million voicemails. I fucked up, Cecelia. It didn’t take me too long to figure that out. But you never returned any of my calls. All I knew is you were in Amarillo. It’s not like the director of your office would tell me where you went.”
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“The PI I’ve got looking for Georgie’s father. It took him about three days once I called him. But then I had to stick around for another few days. Long story short, I’m suing the agency for lack of disclosure. I suspect they are playing games that will endanger Georgie.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“After you left, I complained that Peggy Stanholt had overstepped her position as a case manager. She had no right to snoop through my belongings. She violated my trust, and probably some laws. I’ve got my lawyer on that. Then about a week or so after that, they told me they found Georgie’s father.”
“No,” Cecelia said in a long, drawn-out word. “They couldn’t have. I’m so sorry.” She knew how I felt about Georgie. She knew that Georgie’s biological father showing up was devastating.
“Yeah. I called to chew out my guy. He was supposed to be one of the best. He told me there was no way they found the father when he couldn’t. And then he planted an idea that at first seemed paranoid. But after I mentioned it to my lawyer, I’m not so sure it was paranoid. We immediately began taking precautions. That took some time.”
“What does that mean?” Cecelia sat on the floor next to the car seat. Georgie was still asleep.
“It means I only want people I can trust near Georgie.”
“I can’t be your case worker, Sterling.”
“I don’t want you to be my caseworker. I want you. I am here because of what’s going on, but not why you think. As it dawned on me that someone might want to take Georgie from me, I also realized they were taking you from me. They had taken you from me.”
Cecelia gulped, and tears started flowing down her cheeks again.
“I want you back, Cecelia. I miss you. Georgie misses you.”
She glanced over at the baby. “She doesn’t know I’m gone.”
I stood and hovered over them. “She does. She looks at your picture and…” I took a deep breath.
Cecelia blinked up at me. Her eyes were bright with the remnants of tears. She put her hand on my leg.
My body surged in response. Her hand against me tightened in my gut. My pulse was far from settled.
I lowered to be close to her. I brushed a stray, random hair away from her brow.
“Georgie looks at your pictures, because I show her them. She gives them slobbery baby kisses, and she calls you Mama.”
Cecelia gasped and covered her mouth. She looked from me to the baby and back.
“Oh, baby. Sterling?” She reached out for me.
I pulled her to me. “Come back to us, to me. You belong with us.”
Her answer was a kiss.