“Dad, huh?”
“Not just Dad, but yeah. Dad would.”
“Hmmm,” I say, unwilling to ask about Marissa specifically.
“I’m sure Marissa would. She’s miserable without you.”
“I doubt that. I saw her at the press conference. She looks like she’s doing great.”
“She is. I mean, the trial’s going great. She’s doing a good job. But . . . she just isn’t . . . I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. What do I know about women?”
“Good point,” I say playfully.
“Like you’re much better.”
“I know more about women than you ever will.”
“You wish,” he teases right back. “Hey, speaking of women. You still game to be my best man?”
“Sure. You popped the question yet?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long. The trial should be over in another month. I’ll do it then. When all this is behind us. She’ll be ready for a fresh start. We all will.”
“Just tell me when.”
“How long will you have this number?”
“I plan on keeping this one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’m betting on this working out so none of us have to hide anymore. Ever.”
“I am, too, man. I am, too.”
“Well, keep me posted. It’s a satellite phone, so you should be able to get me most of the time, even after I ship out.”
“Where you headed to this time?”
I shrug. I don’t know why. Cash can’t see me. I guess I just feel apathetic all over.
“Europe, I think. I’ve been to the Caribbean, Central and South America. And Africa, of course. I think it’s time to spend some euros.”
“Damn, what a hard life you have,” Cash says dryly.
“Hey, you don’t want to get into a pissing contest with me today, man.” I laugh to take some of the bite out of my statement. I meant every word of it, but I didn’t mean to sound like such an ass**le.
“I know, dude. It can’t be easy.”
I grunt. I don’t know what to say. If I get started, I’m liable to start whining like some lovesick loser about the unfairness of it all.
“It’s gotta get better eventually, right?”
“It will. Just know you’re welcome back here any time. And that I do expect you here for the wedding. And all the before and after crap, too. If I’m gonna do it, you’re suffering through it with me.”
“Don’t make it sound like you’re not on cloud nine to be marrying the girl of your dreams.”
Cash laughs. “Yeah, who am I kidding. It’ll be the best day or week or month of my life. Well, until the honeymoon. And every day after that.”
“All right, all right, all right. Enough already.” My tone is teasing and I’m sure he knows it.
“Call when you can,” he says lightly.
“I will.”
“I, uh, I miss you, man. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a brother.”
I have the sudden urge to smile, which isn’t exactly an everyday kind of thing for me. “Me, too. Me, too.”
After we get off the phone, I allow myself a few minutes to fantasize about what it would be like to be in Cash’s position, with what looks like a great life all out ahead of me, just waiting to be lived. It takes no more than a few seconds for me to abandon the scenario. Without the girl in my arms, none of the rest of it works.
THIRTY-SIX
Marissa
I circle my shoulders as much as I can within the confines of my seatbelt. The tension of the day hasn’t quite drained away yet. Sometimes it takes a couple of hours of being at home to fully relax. Sometimes it takes a couple of glasses of wine, too. Or a hot bath, a little time, and a little wine. I’ve discovered that’s like the distress trifecta. And tonight may require those more extreme measures.
The trial is going well, but it’s incredibly intense. Much more so than what I ever expected. In the beginning, it was more procedural, nothing exciting like you see on television. But now that we’ve gotten into testimony and cross-examination, it’s not only more interesting, but it also calls for a deft touch when it comes to strategy.
Needless to say, I let Jensen handle most of that.
He’s doing a great job. It’s easy to see how he’s risen so far so fast within the DA’s office. He’s exceptionally bright and intuitive when it comes to the law and how to finesse witnesses. It’s pretty impressive to watch.
After I park and drag my briefcase from the passenger seat, I make my way to the front door. I slide the key into the lock and push the door open. A little sliver of fear skitters down my spine. It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. But it’s still there. I wonder if it always will be.
That’s one of two things that has refused to leave me since the time around my abduction. The echo of fear is number one. Nash is number two. And not necessarily in that order.
The fear of someone grabbing me abates within a few minutes of being in my house, with it settling quietly around me. Missing Nash—seeing his face, hearing his voice, smelling his clean, manly scent—that sometimes haunts me all night long. When I’m here, in the place I knew him so intimately, I don’t get very many peaceful moments. His memory is with me almost constantly. It’s one of the many reasons this case has been so cathartic. In a way, I dread for it to be over. But, like all good things, it must come to an end.
With a sigh, I start peeling off clothes as I make my way to the bedroom. I’ve just slipped on some silky pajama shorts when the doorbell rings.
My pulse stutters and I hurriedly pull on the matching shirt and grab my robe from the back of the bathroom door as I rush to see who’s calling at such a late hour.
Several of us met for dinner and drinks after court tonight. It’s well after nine now, an odd time for anyone to visit unannounced.
I lean in to look through the peephole to see Jensen’s face looking comical in that walleye way.
I pull the chain and open the locks.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
Jensen is smiling broadly. Maybe too broadly.
“I just had a thought. May I come in?”
I pull my robe more tightly around me. “Of course.”
I step back and let him pass me, then close the door behind him. He doesn’t walk far, which puts me practically right on top of him when I turn toward him.
“What’s up?” I ask, leaning back against the door so I can get some extra space.