Chapter 17 #2
She purses her lips. “That’s not a permanent answer.”
“No, but it’s the honest one.” I lean back on the bench. “The permanent answer requires this situation to end, so I can find out who we are without the danger holding us together. I’m not there yet. I’m just glad I can see it from here.”
Marisol reaches over and takes my hand. She holds it silently, and the pressure of her grip says everything her words haven’t. Then she lets go and picks up her coffee. “So, twins? I’m going to be a godmother to two babies.”
I laugh. “I haven’t asked you that yet.”
“You don’t need to. I already accepted.” She finishes her coffee. “Tell Adrian I him to take good care of you…all of you.”
“I don’t need to tell him that. He already is.”
She seems to accept the words this time and doesn’t push back. We walk back to the car together. Marisol hugs me at the curb and holds on longer than usual before getting into her own car.
Fedor opens my door, and I’m about to climb in when I notice a man standing near the crosswalk thirty yards away.
He’s watching me. Mid-thirties, dark jacket, average build.
I don’t recognize him, and he holds my eye contact for a beat too long before turning toward a side street. I get in the car and close the door.
“Fedor, there was a man at the crosswalk looking at me. He’s in a dark jacket, walking east now.”
Fedor checks his mirror and pulls into traffic. “I saw him. He moved on.”
“Okay.” I settle into the seat and try to dismiss it as paranoia, which would be reasonable given that I’ve spent the last two months as a protected witness in an ongoing criminal operation. Paranoia is practically a job qualification at this point.
Ten minutes into the drive, I notice a dark SUV two cars behind us. It’s been there since we left the campus. I watch it through the side mirror for another three blocks.
“Fedor, the dark SUV, two cars back, has been there since campus.”
“I know, and I’m monitoring the situation.” He glances in the rearview and continues driving for another few minutes, checking periodically while I watch constantly. “Turned off,” he says before I can tell him that when I see it happen, “About a mile back. Probably nothing.”
Probably. I rest my head against the window and tell myself the man at the crosswalk and the SUV are unrelated.
Miami is full of dark jackets and dark SUVs.
I’m being watched by a paranoid surveillance apparatus every hour of every day, and sometimes that awareness makes threats out of coincidences.
I don’t fully believe myself, but I let it go for now.
Adrian is in the study when I walk through the door, and he stands when he hears me.
I come in carrying the course catalog, the preliminary credit evaluation, and the application packet.
When I start talking about it, the excitement in my voice surprises me because I haven’t heard this from myself in a long time.
It’s certainly been absent the last two years while I was at Echelon and faltering rapidly during the first four years of my employment.
“The hybrid program would let me take most classes online with in-person intensives for the lab work. Dr. Reyes said my work experience might qualify for experiential credit, and several of my existing college credits should transfer.”
He comes around the desk and leans against the edge, giving me his full attention. “Which program did you like best?”
The question is small, but the way he asks it, like my answer is the most important thing he’ll hear today, makes me swallow hard. He’s not guiding me toward an answer, suggesting options, ranking programs, or optimizing my timeline. He’s just asking and waiting.
“The bachelor’s in hospitality management with the beverage concentration is still the one, I think. It’s the most practical application of what I already know, and the capstone project could be built around venue operations.”
He nods once. “When can you apply?”
“The next intake is in three months. I need to complete the application, submit transcripts, and write a personal statement.” I set the materials on his desk.
“I want to do this, Adrian. Not because you suggested it or because it’s practical, but because I’ve wanted it for years, and I finally have the space to try. ”
“Then try.”
I grin at him but then step closer with a shiver as I remember how my outing ended. “There’s more.” I tell him about the man at the crosswalk and the dark SUV. His face changes, not dramatically, but enough for me to recognize the operational focus replacing the personal attention.
“I’ll have Grigor pull footage from the campus security cameras, and Fedor will file a report on the vehicle.” He touches my arm briefly. “You did the right thing noticing and reporting it. It’s probably nothing, but I’d rather verify that.”
I nod and let him handle it because this is his area of expertise.
I let myself be excited about having a goal after all of this is over, something beyond being a mother and a.
..whatever I am to Adrian. I don’t have a word for it yet.
Girlfriend sounds too casual for a woman carrying his twins and living in his homes under armed guard.
Partner sounds too corporate. We’ll figure it out, or we won’t need to because the answer will become obvious before either of us has to name it.
For now, I have a course catalog, a credit evaluation, two babies on the way, and Adrian, who asks me what I want and listens when I answer.
That’s more than I’ve had in years, and I’m not letting go of any of it.