50. She Challenged the Mother
She Challenged the Mother
Gwen
“So, let me get this straight,” Marnie smirked over the rim of her cocktail glass. “The hot Italian with the sexy as fuck tattoos is following you?”
The same Italian—my new shadow, Romeo—was about ten steps away, his elbow crooked on the bar, lounging cool and casual like he belonged with the Friday night crowd in the yacht club.
Maybe he did. I didn’t. I hated this place. How had Marnie talked me into stopping by?
I sighed. “Yeah. He’s following me.” I sipped my drink, almost poking myself in the eye with the umbrella stabbed into the lime wedged on the rim. That was another of Marnie’s ideas. “Classy,” she’d said, and to make it fun, like a “real” drink and not just a Coke.
Marnie cocked her head. “And pray tell, why is the sexy Italian following you?”
“No idea.”
And I hated I still hadn’t figured out why.
On Tuesday night, Toby had surprised me with copies of the clinic books—as well as a homemade dinner, a whole stack of presents, and never-ending kisses.
Before slipping into bed for another heated make-out session, it had taken me all of five minutes to scour accounting entries in the books to spot and cross-check two suspicious transactions. Five minutes .
Ian was stealing money. No doubt. I was good at solving cases.
But after three days of Romeo following me around, the only two things I knew for sure were that he had an interesting taste in magazines—quilting, then country living, followed by a well-loved copy of Wildlife Australia —and he was the worst stalker in history.
He made no effort to keep himself hidden.
He was visible. Noticeable. Everywhere .
It was almost like Romeo wanted people to know he was following me. But why? No clue.
“You have no idea?” Marnie snorted. “I highly doubt that. I’m sure you have plenty of theories.” Her gaze slid back to Romeo. “I’m workshopping some theories right now.” The tip of her tongue skated over her bottom lip.
“Quit objectifying my stalker,” I laughed.
“I can’t help it! Look at him!” She fanned herself with a napkin.
I glanced over my shoulder. I looked. I still didn’t get it. “He’s…a…man?”
“Babe, he’s not a man. He’s a god.” Marnie gave me a sly smile as she sipped her cocktail. “You don’t see it because you’ve always preferred the clean-cut hero type. I like them…edgier.”
“You mean criminal? He probably is, you know.”
“It still works.” She grinned. “I’m surprised Tobes is okay with this, though.”
I avoided Marnie’s eyes and snatched up my glass. “Uh…” I took a huge gulp.
“Gwen!” she hissed. “You haven’t told him?”
“Well…”
Marnie put her drink down and folded her arms. “As your best friend, I get a few hall passes in life to call you out on your bullshit. You’ve got that man of yours running around, smitten like a kitten, trying so hard to be honest with you, and you don’t tell him about this?
” She frowned. “Gwen, the Italian Stallion is literally stalking you. I’m questioning your judgment not going to the cops, but even if I let that slide, you can’t keep this from Toby. ”
“I know. Shit, Marnie. I know .” Nerves— guilt —had me tugging a hand through my hair.
“I’m acting like a complete hypocrite, but I also know Toby.
He bounces through the world completely oblivious to bad people.
He’s got a big heart. He’s too protective.
The second he figures out what’s going on, he’ll go all white knight, charge out the front door, and get himself tangled up in a fight… or…” I swallowed heavily. “Or worse.”
Marnie’s hand covered mine. “That needs to be Toby’s choice to make.”
I shook my head. “You know him, Mar. He’s all ‘act now, think later.’ I haven’t figured out Romeo’s angle yet. Toby could get hurt.”
“He’s going to get hurt no matter what. He’ll be devastated you kept this from him.”
I slumped over the table, propping my chin on my fist. “Yeah.” I sighed. “But, it’s not… I’m not…” I growled with frustration. Why was this so hard? “When Toby found out what Ian did, how long did it take him to get into a fistfight? A day? Two? He beat the shit out of him.”
“He would’ve been blaming himself big time for not protecting you.”
“It wasn’t his fault!”
“He won’t see it like that. I guarantee it. Tobes has a one-track mind when it comes to you. He’s a caveman.” She beat her chest with her fists. “My Gwen. Me protect. That’s Toby.”
“Even more reason to stop him from rushing into something headfirst!”
Marnie gave me a sympathetic smile. “Your husband is a grown-up. Treat him like one. He won’t always get it right, but you need to respect him.
Let him decide how he’s going to act.” She butted her shoulder against mine.
“You guys have been making good progress. You’re light-years ahead of where you were a few weeks ago.
Don’t undo all your hard work by not trusting him now. ”
Marnie was right. So damn right. “I trust him…” I said weakly.
She leaned over and whispered, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” She hugged her arm around me and gave me a quick squeeze.
“Enough about my problems.” I waved the conversation on. “We talk about me way too much these days.”
Marnie shrugged. “Sometimes, you’re down, and we talk about you. Sometimes, I’m down, and we talk about me. Our friendship is good like that.”
“As much as I love you for saying that, I think I’ve talked about myself enough this week.”
Her brows rose with interest. “Psychologist?”
I nodded.
“How’s that going?” she asked.
“Good… I think. I’ve had two appointments now.
Paula’s great to talk to. She lets me vent, but she also challenges my thinking.
She says stuff like, ‘Let’s gather more data’ and ‘Talk me through the evidence you have to think that way.’ I seriously love that.
I swear, though… She gave me homework at the end of my last session that I’ll have to talk to her about next week. ”
Marnie’s nose wrinkled. “Homework?” I was glad she was as outraged as I’d been.
“Yeah, it’s a listening exercise about leaves floating down a river.” I punctuated my words with wavy jazz hands. “My problems, they’re like leaves… And I can notice them… acknowledge them… be curious… but I need to let them be… so they can float away along the river.”
Marnie snorted. “Sounds like your yoga shit.”
Clearly, I was never going to convert Marnie to yoga.
I laughed. “Give me yoga any day,” I said.
“But after being married to someone like Toby, all I could think was, honey, if my problems are leaves, I’m sending my man into that river with all the shit he’s bought from the hardware store to clean it the hell up. ”
Marnie laughed. “He so would.”
“ Leaves down a river . Please,” I scoffed. “I prefer it when Paula just gives it to me straight.”
“Marnie style?” She grinned.
“Paula calls them gentle nudges .”
“I like this woman. And I like that spark in your eyes.” Marnie squeezed me with another hug. “It’s good to see my friend back.”
I ducked my head, vision blurry behind too much emotion. “Thanks, Mar,” I whispered.
“Don’t go all soft on me now,” she teased.
“Maybe it’s the new me.”
“Maybe it was always you, and you were just good at hiding it?”
“Maybe…”
Talk turned to a hundred other things—my work and Marnie signing on a new gallery.
Three cocktails down, she was swearing off all men—including Eli, who she declared too nice to date—even as her eyes lingered on Romeo.
He didn’t seem to mind the attention. He winked at her, and she just about fainted.
“You know,” she said, leaning over, a mischievous glint creeping into her smile. “I never understood that expression before—‘climb a man like a tree.’ But I think I get it now.”
“I think you’ve had too many of those”—I jabbed my finger at her cocktail—“to climb any trees.”
“A couple of branches?”
“Keep both of your feet firm on the ground, missy,” I said sternly.
Marnie giggled. “ Firm .”
I laughed. She was tipsy. This was fun. Easy.
It was great to catch up again and talk.
I rolled my eyes, remembering Paula’s homework, but honestly, the sessions were helping.
The pinch that usually twisted under my ribs wasn’t so tight anymore.
I didn’t feel as guarded. My body wasn’t weighted down under a need to be constantly on alert and perfectly put together.
Marnie was kind of…messy, but that didn’t make her any less impressive. I could learn a lot from her, too.
I sipped my Coke, glancing around the room, all the positive energy fizzling out as my eyes landed on the woman decked out in a gold kaftan stalking toward me.
Sarah Sullivan stopped in front of our table, her haughty chin raised high, and the eyes she glared down at me and Marnie full of judgment.
“Mrs. Sullivan.” Marnie raised her glass. “How wonderful to see you again.”
Sarah’s eyebrow arched. “And here I was thinking this was an exclusive club.” Her voice was edged with pure condescension. “I didn’t think your parents were members anymore.”
Marnie ignored the dig. “The yacht club can’t be too exclusive if they’re offering two-for-one cocktails on a Friday night.” She grinned. “Cheers!” She raised her glass and muttered a muffled “Fuck you” before taking a sip.
Sarah’s gaze dropped to my drink. “Like mother, like daughter.” A smug smirk pinched her lips.
Marnie’s hand hit the table. “That’s a Coca-Cola, you sanctimonious bitch—” She was half out of her chair before I tugged at her shirt to force her back down.
“Mar…” I urged softly. “Don’t.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed on me. “Shouldn’t you be in my son’s home looking after my grandson? Although… You…here.” She scoffed a laugh. “I shouldn’t expect any less of you, but somehow, you always manage to lower the bar.”
Through gritted teeth, Marnie warned, “Gwen.” She wanted me to fire up and stand up for myself.