23. June
JUNE
Marnie shuffles toward the bed and pauses, one hand against the wall. I hold onto her elbow, but she waves me away. “No, I’m fine. I can do this.”
“Marn—“
She ignores me and closes the gap. Crossing the room is a serious effort. The stairs took it out of her. She collapses into the bed, flopping onto her back and grinning at me.
“How do I look?”
She’s a mess. The bruises are fading, but she’s too thin.
She can’t walk too far without getting exhausted and she’s still in pain.
Eating is fine, talking is okay, but anything that involves exerting herself seems impossible.
She can’t bend, which means she can’t tie her shoes, dress herself all the way, or even shower alone.
That’s why we have nurses on twelve-hour shifts to cover any of her needs and to make sure she’s healing right.
I try not to think about the bloodstains downstairs. About the huge cleaning crew still working to get the place in shape.
Marnie didn’t question the men filling bulletholes and painting away the worst of the damage. The attack happened three days earlier, and she hasn’t heard a peep about it.
I still haven’t fully processed what happened.
Last night, I woke up sweating and whimpering, only to find Rafe pulling me to his chest. He held me tight in the darkness, kissing my neck, telling me I was safe until I calmed down.
I fell back asleep in his arms, because I couldn’t imagine lying there another second without his touch. I’m a mess, and he’s being patient.
But Hattie? She’s acting like it never happened.
There are going to be issues, I know. Little kids rebound and get past stuff easier than adults do. Still, I made sure Rafe reached out to the best child therapist he could find for when Hattie is ready to talk to someone, which should be sooner rather than later.
Only I want to make sure it’s safe first.
“Gotta admit, this place is a lot nicer than I thought.” She looks around and seems a bit better now that she’s off her feet. “Seriously, June, how’d you end up bagging a rich guy?”
I smile to myself and realize I never told her how Rafe and I met. “Remember your bachelorette party?”
“Oh god.” She covers her face with one hand. “I was such a bitch that night. I wish we could erase that entire chapter of my life.”
“Well, if we did that, I wouldn’t have Hattie.”
She peeks at me from between her fingers then lets her hand drop. “Are you serious right now? I thought you were like the den mother that whole weekend.”
I grin devilishly and tell her the full story: mistaking Rafe for the stripper, running into him at the ice machine later, following him to his room. I leave out the graphic sex but she gets the picture.
“June, you dirty slut, I can’t believe it. I knew you had a one-night stand, but you’ve always been shady about where and when.”
“I abandoned you and I felt bad about it.”
“Uh, dude, we were a freaking wreck that night. I’m happy you had some fun.”
“You really were a mess.”
“Poor Beth. I puked in her lap. Twice.”
I burst out laughing. Marnie smiles back. All at once I feel it, how having her here is the biggest stress relief imaginable. I hug her fiercely, which earns a pained groan, and I spend the next few minutes apologizing for being such a clumsy idiot.
“Hello, hello,” the nurse on duty says, an older woman with sleek dark hair. “I’m Bernadette Kelly, you can call me Birdie, all my patients do. How are we feeling, hon?”
“Like I fell down the steps a few weeks ago.”
“Sounds about right. I got pills if you need them.”
Marnie lights up. “Good pills? The kind that makes my back stop feeling like it’ll fall off?”
Birdie waggles her hand. “Good-ish pills. I’m not about to make you an opioid addict, but we’ll take the edge off, how’s that?”
“I’ll swallow whatever you got. Incidentally, that’s what I used to say to my ex-husband.”
I grimace, thinking Birdie might not appreciate Marnie’s lewd sense of humor, but the old woman only cackles.
“My husband wishes. Your ex must be a real piece of work to lose a girl like you. Now, let’s talk schedules. Mrs. Corvino, you’re welcome to stick around if you like?”
“No, that’s okay.” I kiss Marnie’s forehead. “Love you. Get settled. I’ll be back later.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She sinks into her pillow and closes her eyes. “Not with those fucking stairs.”
“We’ll install an elevator,” I promise as I make my way into the hall.
A warm feeling swells in my chest. Marnie’s here and she seems okay. The house is safe and it’s almost like the attack never happened. The only problem is Rafe.
He’s pulling into himself and I don’t know why.
Since Hattie’s busy with a new nanny, I have time and space to breathe. I linger, letting myself soak in the good feeling for a few minutes. Marnie’s going to be okay—and then the hard work of putting her back together and trying to make up for the hell I put her through will begin.
But for now?
We’re all under one roof, and we’re alive.
I walk down to the kitchen. Byron’s prepping lunch. “June! Always a pleasure! Your lovely daughter was here only a few moments ago. That nanny has her hands full.”
“Oh no, what did Hattie do?”
“Stole six carrots and said she’s going to feed the ponies.” Byron gazes at me with unashamed pride. “That girl’s got an imagination.”
“She does, only I hope it doesn’t get her in trouble.”
“A little trouble’s okay! That’s what I think, at least! Now, what can I get you?”
“Something for Rafe, actually. He’s in his office working and I doubt he’s taking time to eat.”
Byron pauses and looks at me, surprised, and I fidget under that curious frown. But it quickly passes and he’s back into motion. “I know just the thing,” he says, gathering ingredients. “Give me a few minutes. Sit over there.” He gestures at a chair near the wall with a knife. “And don’t move!”
I do as I’m told. It’s nice watching Byron work. He’s a master and it shows. The man’s meticulous, careful, and skilled. His attention to detail is impressive and his knowledge of ingredients, flavors, techniques, and cooking time is unsurpassed.
Which is why I’m delighted when he hands me a plate with grilled cheese.
“Seriously? This is what he wants?”
“This is what he needs,” Byron corrects. “Wait a moment. One more thing.” He hurries off and returns with a big mug of hot tea. “Now you’re settled.”
“I’m not even sure I’ve seen him eat carbs before.”
“Rafe takes care of himself,” Byron agrees. “But I have a feeling he’ll bend some of his rules if his wife brings him that personally.”
I get the sense I’m being set up for something, but I don’t have any other ideas for what to feed my monster husband.
I thank Byron and carry the plate and the tea down the twisting halls, ignoring the construction, the holes in the walls, the stink of blood and sweat, the workers and twice the number of guards, until I reach Rafe’s private office.
His double doors are exquisite. I knock, awkwardly balancing everything in one hand, and let myself inside.
The interior is large and dim, lit only by weak orange overhead bulbs turned to low.
The fireplace is quiet with a fine sheen of ash along the bottom.
Books line the shelves. A couch is against one wall.
The floor is covered in thick, beautiful rugs.
And a massive desk owns the space, behind which sits my husband.
He’s frowning at his laptop and barely seems to notice I’m standing a few feet away.
“Uh, Rafe? Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
He glances over, blinking slowly as he comes back to the room. “June. When did you get here?”
“Just a second ago.” I walk to his desk and place the plate down. “I got you some—“ I awkwardly tilt the tea mug and spill some on the fine mahogany.
For a beat, I think he might be angry. This desk is clearly worth a fortune. It’s lacquered, perfectly shiny, with intricate carvings and raven motifs. It wouldn’t be out of place in a museum.
But he only grunts and moves his papers before they get wet.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” He walks to a drink cart and comes back with a bar towel.
“Oh god, I messed it up. I can be such an idiot?—“
“June.” He wipes the spilled tea and puts a hand on my hip. “It’s fine. Really. It isn’t a big deal.”
I blow out a breath and realize I’m on edge. I don’t even know why. Before, near Marnie, I felt good, but standing in here, it’s like all that tension comes creeping back.
“You’ve been in here all morning. I figured you’d be hungry.”
He puts the towel away and returns to his place, dragging the plate over. “You’re right, I haven’t eaten. I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I can be observant sometimes.”
He stares at the grilled cheese like he’s never seen it before, lifts it to his mouth, and takes a bite.
I wonder if Byron screwed me as he chews and swallows. Rafe’s face doesn’t show any emotion as he takes a second bite, and a third, and a fourth before the slightest hint of a smile cracks the corner of his lips.
“My mother used to make this,” he says at a whisper. “Back when I was little. It’s my comfort food.”
Warmth floods my chest, battling away some of the fear I’ve been holding on to. “You don’t talk about your family much.”
“I know.” He takes another, slower bite, and drinks his tea.
“You can if you want to.” I look down at my lap. “I understand wanting to keep it to yourself though.”
“Is that what you do?”
I shift in my chair, wringing my hands. “My parents died when I was young too. Well, my dad did, and my mom ran out on me. I was raised by my grandmother.”
“Harriet,” he says.
“I named Hattie after her. She was perfect. Everything I needed. Too old to really raise me actively, but patient, kind, and loving. I learned how to handle myself and everyone around me because Grandma couldn’t always be there to do everything, but she was amazing.
And the day Hattie was born—“ I stop myself, tears filling my eyes.