21. Todd
TODD
The black SUV was parked half a block from Cici's house. I noticed it the second I turned onto her road. The same vehicle with the same dark windows. The same feeling in my gut.
No lights or movement. Was it waiting?
My jaw tightened.
I told myself it could be nothing. The problem was I didn't believe that anymore. I pulled into Cici's driveway and cut the engine.
The moment I stepped out of the car, the tension eased. At least until I saw her. She opened the front door before I reached it.
A smile spread across her face. For one brief second, everything felt normal. Then she wrapped her arms around me. I pulled her against me. God, I'd missed her.
Far more than I should have. I buried my face in her hair and held her a little tighter.
"I couldn't wait to see you."
Her arms tightened around my waist.
"Missed you too."
The words should have made me feel better, but instead something felt off. When she stepped back, I immediately noticed it.
She looked pale, not sick exactly, just different. Her smile was there, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hey."
"What?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
The answer came too quickly. I studied her. She wouldn't quite meet my gaze. Her fingers twisted together in front of her. She was nervous about something.
"I'm fine," she repeated.
I wasn't convinced. I followed her inside.
The smell of dinner filled the house as soon as I stepped inside. Something simmered on the stove, filling the kitchen with warmth, and the dining room table was already set with candles and glasses. She'd gone through a lot of effort.
The realization should have made me smile, but instead I found myself noticing little things.
There was a slight tremble in her hands whenever she reached for something, and she kept taking deep breaths as if she were trying to steady herself.
Even when she smiled, she seemed distracted, her attention drifting somewhere beyond the kitchen and the dinner she'd worked so hard to prepare.
"Cici."
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"You sure you're okay?"
She smiled.
A little too brightly.
"Would you stop asking me that?"
"No."
That earned a real smile.
At least for a second. I walked over and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
"Need help?"
"Actually, yes."
She pointed toward the laptop sitting open on the kitchen island.
"You can help by finishing up the sauce."
I raised an eyebrow.
"The sauce?"
"The recipe is right there."
She pointed at the screen.
"You just follow the directions, the garlic is already sautéing."
"I feel like you're overestimating my abilities."
"You run a company."
"That's different."
She laughed softly.
"Recipe's on the screen."
I walked toward the laptop.
Behind me, I heard her moving around the kitchen.
The clink of pots and pans. A cabinet door opened then closed. Normal sounds.
At least that's what I thought.
I leaned forward and started reading.
Tomato paste.
Garlic.
Heavy cream.
Parmesan.
Simple enough.
I scanned farther down the ingredient list and then froze. A tab sat open beside the recipe.
I recognized my company's insignia, and my stomach dropped. I clicked it, and a folder appeared on the screen labeled Acquisition Strategy. For a second, I simply stared at it, my pulse beginning to pound in my ears.
Then I clicked again. Confidential documents immediately filled the screen, internal reports, valuation analyses, and corporate acquisition plans.
My pulse slowed. Not because I was calm. Because I wasn't.
I opened another folder and found executive travel schedules.
My stomach tightened. I clicked into another and saw private flight manifests.
Then another, confidential client information.
My entire body went still. These were the same type of files that were on the USB from before.
Which was now in my possession. But these were different.
What the hell?
I clicked through file after file. They weren't random or scattered across the system like something accidentally downloaded. Everything was organized, sorted into folders, categorized by topic, and arranged in a way that made it easy to navigate. The more I looked, the tighter my jaw became.
I opened file properties. Recent access dates. Recent activity.
My chest felt hollow.
The kitchen sounds faded into the background as I stared at the screen. The only thing I could see was the files in front of me, and the only thing I could think was why. Somewhere behind me, a spoon scraped against a skillet, but the sound barely registered.
"Cream goes in next."
I barely heard her.
A moment later she spoke again.
"Todd?"
I kept staring.
The dates, folders. The access history. None of it made sense.
And yet it was sitting on her computer.
Right in front of me.
"Todd?"
The sound of her voice felt far away, as if I were hearing it through water. Everything around me seemed to fade, the clatter of dishes, the hum of the refrigerator, even my own breathing, until there was nothing but the files on the screen and the sick feeling settling in my chest.
Then, a second later, I felt her hand against my back.
I flinched.
Not because of her. Because I'd forgotten she was standing there.
I turned around. She looked surprised. Concerned.
"Todd?"
I stared at her.
Then back to the screen.
Then back at her.
"Why is this on your computer?"
Her eyes followed my gaze. The moment she saw the folders, confusion crossed her face. Real confusion.
Or a damn good imitation of it.
"I've never seen that before."
I looked back at the screen, then at her. The shaking hands, the pale face, the nerves, suddenly they all seemed to have an explanation. Of course she knew. Of course she was nervous.
How had I missed it?
"Todd. I've never seen that before," she repeated.
I pressed off the counter and stared at her.
"Cici."
"What?"
I rubbed a hand across my jaw. I didn't trust myself to speak.
Not yet.
"Todd, what is it?"
I closed the laptop.
Then opened it again.
As if somehow the files would disappear.
They didn't.
I looked at her.
She looked terrified.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
The problem was I no longer knew the difference.
I stepped past her.
"Todd?"
I didn't answer.
The sliding glass door opened, and cool air hit my face as I stepped onto the deck.
I gripped the railing and stared out at lake stretching into the darkness.
Usually, the sight of the water had a way of calming me, helping me clear my head when everything felt overwhelming. Tonight, it did nothing.
I raked both hands through my hair, trying to think, trying to find another explanation, any explanation that made sense of what I'd just seen. My mind kept circling back to the files, searching for a reason they could be there that didn't end with the conclusion I was desperately trying to avoid.
Behind me, the sliding door opened, and a moment later, Cici stepped outside.
"I don't know anything about those files."
I kept staring at the water.
"They aren't mine."
Silence settled between us.
"Todd."
I finally turned.
She looked small standing there, vulnerable and scared. She was the woman I'd been thinking about constantly, the woman I'd missed, the woman I'd started imagining a future with. And now I didn't know what was true anymore.
"I don't know Cici."
Pain flashed across her face.
"Because you don't believe me."
I looked away.
The silence stretched.
Long enough.
Her eyes filled.
"You're wrong."
Maybe she was.
God, I wanted her to be.
But the files were real.
The evidence was sitting on her computer.
And for the first time since Aspen, I wasn't sure who I was looking at.
"I just don't know," I said quietly.
The words sounded like a confession.
Or a failure.
Maybe both.
Cici stared at me for several seconds.
Then she gave a small nod.
As though I'd just answered a question she never wanted to ask.
She turned and walked back into the house.
The sliding door closed behind her.
And for the first time in a very long time, I had absolutely no idea what came next.