Push

51. He Got the Suitcase

He Got the Suitcase

Toby

Footsteps shuffled behind me.

I paused, lifting my head out of the pile of boxes I’d been digging through on the garage floor. I whipped a look over my shoulder. Shadows loomed up the walls, darkening every corner. The dull orange of the bulb glowing overhead barely chased the ghosts away.

I rose slowly. “Gwen?” Was she back from her night out with Marnie already? I took a cautious step, peering around the garage.

No one.

I was losing my marbles. I’d end up six feet under like my father if my brain kept inventing imaginary friends for me. I rubbed my palm over my chest.

Am I too young for a heart attack?

Some heart issues were genetic. Dad had been wiped out at only fifty-six. He was fit, healthy, and the life of every party—no one seemed to care he was a dirtbag. Maybe I was next. Had I renewed my insurance—

My phone pinged.

Unknown

You stole the life that should have been mine.

I hate you.

My pulse spiked, and a chill shuddered through me.

Nah, screw this shit.

With paranoia chasing my heels, I hightailed it out of the garage.

I slammed the door shut, double-checked the lock, and raced through the house and up the stairs.

I didn’t trust the baby monitor clipped to my back pocket.

Sticking my head through the nursery door, I checked on Noah.

That dropped my blood pressure a bit. The little dude was safe and sound, sleeping spread-eagle on his back, his tiny fists stretched out above his head.

Exhausted, I flopped into the rocking chair beside the crib, my head lolling to the side.

Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard and tried to cram too much into one day.

Do Everything Friday had seemed like a brilliant idea when I bounced out of bed that morning.

I’d made myself a long to-do list. Pruning the roses and taking a sniff of the freshly cut grass—that had been heaven.

Doing the laundry and emptying the diaper pail, though? Not so much.

But lunch had made up for it. After I’d dropped by the study with a sandwich and a café coffee, Gwen had rewarded me with a steamy, almost-second-base make-out session pressed against the doorway. Almost. Her bumpy ribs beneath my thumb had been so achingly close to her gorgeous breasts.

My heart hammered in my chest. I didn’t mind that type of adrenaline.

Grinning, I rested my head against the rocking chair, closed my eyes, and let the memory tingle down to my toes.

Gwen was one in a million. Smarter than smart.

A force to be reckoned with. Hot . She worried about the extra curve on her hips, but I wanted to get my greedy hands on every inch…

My eyes snapped open, and I darted a guilty look at the crib. The nursery probably wasn’t the place to be indulging in X-rated thoughts.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and took another glance at my to-do list. Endless. And that was just this week. How would we keep on top of all this crap with both of us working again?

I ignored the latest message from the unknown number and tapped into the Stroller Squad group chat.

Toby

Stupid question, but how do you guys get everything done when you’re juggling a chubby bubba and you’re both working?

Eden

Outsource.

My fingers twitched on the screen. Would Zach’s wife virtually punch me in the guts if I joked about hiring Josie and Maree to play House Ladies at my place? I grimaced. Probably.

Pro tip. Thanks!

Time to find a cleaner.

The notifications from the unknown number were constant.

Still, I ignored the steady stream of “I hate you” popping up on my screen and focused on requesting a booking from a woman promising utter perfectionism in her cleans—right up Gwen’s alley.

Tick . Back in my messages, I took a screenshot of the string of hate from the unknown number, forwarded it to Wayne, and hit “Block.” Tick .

My phone started bleeping.

Grinning, I answered the only call I wanted to receive with a drawled, “Why, hello there, beautiful.”

“Stop that,” Gwen hissed.

I laughed. “Are you blushing, my sweet Gwendolyn?”

“No.” Her answer was too quick—she was totally blushing. “I’ve just jumped in a taxi. I’m on my way home.”

“Oh?” My spine straightened. Alarm bells started ringing. “I thought Marnie was driving you home?”

“Marnie’s three sheets to the wind on cheap cocktails. Romeo and I struggled to get her up the stairs to her place.”

“Romeo?” I laughed. What the hell kind of a name was that? “Is he Marnie’s latest conquest?”

“Uh, he’s… I’ll explain when I get home…” Gwen sighed. “Sort of. Maybe.”

Alarm bells weren’t just ringing anymore—they were blaring like tsunami warnings. “Gwen, has something happened?”

“No… Yes …” She let out another sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated… how?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I was anything but. I jumped out of the rocking chair. The pacing happened all by itself. The fluffy rug in Noah’s nursery may as well have been a pit of hot coals. I couldn’t stand still.

“Complicated, like… I ran into your mother at the yacht club.”

I jolted to a stop. “Why the hell were you at the yacht club?” Gwen hated that place. Christ. Bad idea. My mother’s home turf, and I wasn’t there to protect Gwen. My fist clenched.

“Marnie talked me into it,” Gwen said. “Something about cheap drinks but not cheap men. That point we disagreed on. Anyway, she’s now safely in bed and will probably wake up regretting all her life choices in the morning.”

“Okay, we’ll plan a brunch catch-up and hangover cures for tomorrow. So, what happened with the Troll Queen?”

Gwen snorted. “You’re brave enough to call your mother that?”

“Yup. I’d say it right to her face, too. She’d love it. All she’d hear is that she’s the queen. So, quit stalling, doll. What happened?”

“The usual.”

“Bad-mouthing you and shit?”

I almost didn’t hear the choked “Yeah.”

A familiar stab got me in the ribs. My mother was pure evil. “You stand up for yourself?”

“Yeah,” Gwen admitted softly. “Eventually.”

“That’s the stuff. Don’t let her talk that trash to you. Not a word she says is true. Got it?”

The pause stretched for a lifetime. “Some of what she says is true. Toby… There’s something I need to tell you.” She blew out a long breath. “Shit, this isn’t a conversation we should have over the phone. I’m only ten minutes away. When I get home…we should…talk. ”

Talk? That was ominous. “Cool. Cool. Yeah. Talk.”

“Tobes. Everything’s good between us.”

Was it? It didn’t feel good right now. “Yeah.”

“I promise.”

“Promises, shromises. I’d rather you come home, and we skip all the stupid talking and go straight to movie night,” I said, only half joking.

“We’ll find some murder mystery, and I’ll snuggle up to you with my eyes closed.

We can have popcorn. And, if you’re very good, I’ll even pretend to yawn so I can sneak my arm around your shoulders…

And then…” I lowered my voice to a husky whisper.

“We pick up where we left off outside the study.”

“Tobes…” she groaned.

“Second base sounds better than talking, huh?” It sounded a hell of a lot better to me. This talk of Gwen’s sounded like one of those “I’m in love with some wanker called Romeo, and you’re old news, Dentist Boy” kinds of talks. No thanks.

Gwen sighed. “Honestly, yeah, that sounds amazing. But I’ve avoided part of this conversation for too long. Before she buried her problems in a few drinks, Marnie told me flat out that this is something you need to know.”

“And you can’t tell me over the phone?”

“No…”

Not a good sign. I slumped in the rocking chair. “Gwen, why does it feel like everything will change when we have this… talk ?”

“Because it will.”

My gut clenched to hear her honesty. “But I don’t want everything to change,” I admitted. “Not now. Not when things are finally getting better between us.”

“Me neither. And I feel like an absolute hypocrite saying this, but we can’t run away from our problems forever.”

Gwen said goodbye, and I spent the next ten minutes in a tidying frenzy.

I couldn’t stand still. I was on edge. Her secrets were some of the harshest realities I’d ever faced.

Learning about the shit Ian had put her through was like getting hit with a truck.

I was a dead man if she was worried about this talk .

Something bigger than a truck was hurtling toward me.

I was about to get hit by a damn freight train.

I’d rearranged the magazines under the coffee table and was lighting one of Gwen’s fancy candles when I heard the taxi pull up outside.

My gaze drifted out the front window to the flowering crepe myrtle fluttering over the streetlights.

Only a hazy flicker broke through. Gwen shut the taxi door and headed up the sidewalk as a black SUV pulled up behind her. A beefed-up guy in a suit climbed out.

Who the hell was that?

Her hand on the front gate, Gwen paused on the sidewalk and shot a glare over her shoulder.

I squinted. The guy seemed… familiar . She waved him off, snapping something at him, but all he did was lounge against the front of the car, smiling, his eyes focused too closely on her as she headed up the path to the house.

When Gwen threw open the front door, I stood in the alcove, villain-style in the dark, with my arms folded and a frown on my face to hide the fact my chest was ripping down the middle.

My worst nightmare was coming true. She was getting rid of me and trading up. God, why did it have to be some dickhead with a penis enlargement for an SUV?

Gwen screamed, flying back against the wall. “Toby!” She pressed her hand to her chest, gasping. “You scared the absolute shit out of me!”

“Who is he?” I asked, my voice completely flat.

“That’s, uh… That’s Romeo.” She grimaced.

“Are you only walking in this door to tell me you’re walking out again?”

“No! Jesus, Toby…” She pressed her palms into tired eyes.