Chapter 3
chapter Three
Found
Tiffany
“How long do you plan on hiding out?” Mira asks as I push my buggy up the aisle of the grocery store.
“I don’t know. I just need a little more time.”
Honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. All I thought about the day I left was that I needed to get away from Nico. I had no real plan. Now here it is six days later, and I still had no clue. As nice as James is, I can’t stay with him and my mother too much longer.
Mira is silent on the other end of the phone. I stop the cart to fix Noah’s head in his car seat. He’s passed out, but he’s holding his head at an odd angle that would give me a crook in my neck for days if I slept like this.
“What did Nico do?”
Mira’s question catches me off guard. Until this point, I haven’t told anyone what my husband did wrong. Part of me wants to tell her every single detail. I want someone to talk to about it. Yet, when I open my mouth, the truth doesn’t come out.
“We just had an argument. Look, I know at some point I need to come up with a plan. I can’t run from him forever. He’s Noah’s father, and it isn’t right to keep him from his son.”
“Well, if you decide to come back, you’re welcome to come here and crash.”
Grabbing a few jars of baby food off the shelf and placing them in my buggy, I say, “I can’t keep crashing with people. At some point I need to find my own place.”
She’s silent on the other end of the phone for a moment. “It’s that serious that you’re thinking about divorcing him?”
“No,” I answer quickly. The thought of not being with Nico makes my heart pound in my chest and my palms sweaty. “I mean, I don’t know.” I let out a breath, feeling more confused than I felt the day I got that video.
What do you do with the leftover feelings once you realize your husband was a lying and manipulative murderer?
I wish I could turn them off like a light switch, but I can’t.
Every time I think about that video and seeing him shoot Marcus, I get sick to my stomach.
Yet, the moment I make up my mind that I should divorce him or act like a sane person and call the cops, I don’t.
Part of me knows that these feelings I have for him aren’t real. They are illusions I created thinking that our relationship is organic. Yet, when I try to explain that to my heart, it isn’t trying to hear that logic.
Yes, Nico set up most of our encounters.
Hell, the only real one we had was the day I met him at the club.
And yes, if not for him luring Marcus to gamble and setting that debt up, we may have still been together.
However, Marcus not knowing that it was a ploy and still offering me up as collateral showed me who he truly was.
I’m thankful for that part. Still, I don’t know how to separate the love I have for the man I thought Nico was, and the reality of who he really is.
I don’t know what’s real or fake anymore. I can’t trust my heart.
“Well, you don’t have to decide right now,” Mira says, gaining my attention back.
“Take your time. You’re still on leave at work, so you aren’t expected back here anytime soon.
Speaking of,” she goes on to say. “A guy came in two days ago asking for you. He’d just bought a large estate in Wytheville and wanted you to redesign the entire place.
Mr. Johnson tried to assign him another designer, but he said he only wanted you. ”
I make my way up to the register. “Wait, he asked for me?”
“Yep, said he saw your work on Basille North River and liked your style.”
Four months ago, they did a write-up in a local architectural magazine on Basille North River. They gave both the design and décor rave reviews. Since then, I’ve been getting a lot of offers.
“I still don’t know when I’m coming back.”
Going from a glorified secretary to a high-demand designer has been mind-blowing.
When I first decided I wanted to become an interior designer, this is all I wanted.
And if not for Nico, I wouldn’t have this opportunity.
The moment his name crosses my mind, that dull pain radiates in my chest and stomach.
I blink back the tears that threaten to well up in my eyes. Why did he have to ruin us?
After hanging up with Mira, I check out at the register and head back to my mother and James’ home.
On the entire ride back, my mind strays to Nico.
I go back and forth from being angry at him and trying to dissect every encounter we shared to see where I missed the signs, to missing him like crazy and wondering what he’s doing at the moment.
I try to muster up anger at what he did to Marcus.
Although I was angry with my ex, I would’ve never wanted him to die.
Yet, the anger I should feel about what Nico did to him just isn’t as sharp as I would think it should be.
And then finding out that Marcus had made another debt that he wanted me to pay for, also had me feeling some type of way.
Pulling up to the gate in front of James’ neighborhood, I roll down my window to greet Floyd, the day shift guard.
“Hey, Floyd.”
He steps out of the guardhouse and comes over to the window.
“Little man sleep?” He quickly checks the back seat for my son.
“Yep. He slept the whole way there and the entire way back. Which means he will be up soon.”
Floyd smiles, going back to his guardhouse to lift the rail.
He waves. “Have a nice day. Oh yeah, I didn’t know you were married.”
His comment has me pausing. How did he find out I was married? Not that I was keeping it a secret, I just never told him. I’m assuming James told him or maybe even Evelyn.
“Yeah,” I reply, pulling through the gate to my borrowed home.
Despite not asking questions, his comment still leaves a nervous buzz through my body.
When I pull up to the large brick five-bedroom home, I scan the area to see if anything is out of place.
When nothing looks alarming, I quickly park my car in the second garage.
Grabbing the few bags, I make my way over to the back seat to get Noah.
My baby greets me with a smile. I swear babies can sense the moment they pull up at home. He’s not going to be ready for another nap for a few hours.
“Hey, my handsome man,” I coo to my son as I place him on my hip.
He giggles as he tries to chew on my Saint Michael necklace I got from his father last year for my birthday.
Walking into the house, I place my bags on the kitchen counter.
“Evelyn?” I call out for my mother as I head into the sitting room.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out; my gaze locked in on the screen as I call out for my mother once again.
Bestie: The guy’s name is Ezra Blackwell. Just in case you want to look into him.
My friend knew me all too well. Before this situation with Nico, he and I talked about me staying home until Noah was at least one-year-old.
I didn’t mind that idea at first, but the longer I’ve been away from work, the more I’ve missed what I do.
I sometimes find myself creating mockups of homes on my tablet.
Noah nearly leaps out of my arms. I grab him just in time, dropping my phone in the process.
“Whoa.” I give my son my full attention. “Where are you in a rush to go?”
He’s holding his arms out, whimpering. Turning toward where Noah is focused causes my heart to nearly burst out of my chest and onto the floor. Sitting in my mother’s leather wing-back chair, is none other than my husband.
Nico’s thick dark brows sit low over his dark brown eyes, causing him to look menacing.
His gaze is locked on me. Just the way he looks at me has my pulse racing and a heat pooling in the pit of my stomach.
His dark jean-clad legs are spread wide as he leans back in the chair, looking as if he’s at home.
Noah reaches for his father again with a whimper. I hold on to him tighter. Not a word has been spoken between Nico and I. Part of me wants to ask how he found me, but I should’ve known nothing was going to keep this man from locating me. No matter where I ran.
Finally, he speaks, sending the heat in my stomach lower.
“Bring me my son, Tiffany.”
The words are a demand and a warning all wrapped in one. Just then, my mother walks into the sitting room looking like a million bucks. When her gaze lands on me, her brows dip into a slight frown before she smiles.
“Tiffany, you didn’t tell me you were married to Niccolo Basille.” Evelyn runs a hand down her dress. “My daughter has always kept secrets from me. No matter how much I tried to get her to open up.”
If I weren’t so distracted by the man staring at me as if he wanted to either strangle or fuck me, I would’ve had something to say to my mother. However, I don’t have the energy to correct her.
Noah starts to cry. He has no idea why I won’t take him to his father.
All he knows is that he sees his daddy and he can’t get to him.
Relenting, I walk my son over to his father.
Nico’s gaze follows every step I take until I’m standing in front of him.
Only then does he take his eyes off me, reaching for his son.
The moment Noah is in his father’s arms, he stops crying and even smiles up at him. Nico places a kiss on Noah’s cheek. He then buries his head in his son’s hair and inhales, closing his eyes. Guilt eats at me. I knew that taking Noah from Nico would drive him crazy. He adores his son.
When those dark brown eyes flash back up to me, they are blazing with so much anger I step back.
“Tiff, don’t hover over the man,” Evelyn scolds. “Have a seat.”
For the first time, I take my mother’s advice on something. Backing away, I take a seat on the sofa. Noah babbles at his father as if he’s telling him everything he’s missed in the six days we’ve been away. Watching them interact causes a tear to roll down my cheek.
“So, Mr. Basille, how long are you staying?” Evelyn asks.