Chapter 4
I stared at him.
Ten minutes earlier, he had given me one hundred dollars and directions to a homeless shelter.
Now he was inviting me into his car.
Not because he had changed his mind.
Because he had seen Alexander Vance put a coat around my shoulders.
That realization loosened something inside me.
A small knot I had carried so long I had mistaken it for part of myself.
“No,” I said.
Richard blinked.
“What?”
“I said no.”
His mouth opened.
I turned away before he could reply.
It was the first time in three years that I had ended a conversation with him.
Alexander’s gaze remained on me.
“There’s a car waiting,” he said quietly. “You need somewhere warm, and you should be checked by a doctor. You nearly fell when I came up the steps.”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t.”
“I said I’m fine.”
A familiar irritation rose in me.
Men deciding things for me.
Men telling me where to go.
Men saying they knew what was best.
Alexander seemed to recognize it.
He took one small step backward.
“Then let me phrase it differently.”
He pointed toward the center SUV.
“Would you allow my driver to take you somewhere dry? You may choose the destination. Hospital, hotel, shelter, restaurant, police station. Anywhere you want. I will not get in unless you ask me to.”
I looked at him carefully.
That was not the answer I expected.
“And your security?”
“They can follow at a distance.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard has just discovered that circumstances are not what he believed they were, and frightened people sometimes behave unpredictably.”
Richard shouted something from the Mercedes.
I ignored him.
My baby moved beneath my ribs.
A slow, firm roll.
I pressed my palm against the spot.
Alexander noticed.
For the first time, something like worry crossed his face.
“Please,” he said.
There was no command in it.
Only concern.
I looked toward the courthouse. My attorney had already left through another entrance. I had no apartment anymore. No family to call. My closest friend from work lived three states away and believed Richard and I were still trying to reconcile.
I hated how little choice I had.
But having little choice was not the same as having none.
“Hospital,” I said. “Just to make sure the baby is okay.”
Alexander nodded once.
“Hospital.”
“And you can come.”
He seemed almost relieved.
“But on the way,” I added, “you explain everything.”