“I talked to Gail,” he said. “She told me everything. She suggested we talk.”
The officers had Randy on his feet. One of the officers led him out the front door while the other came over to make sure I was okay. He took my name for the report and asked, “Will you be pressing charges, miss?”
My immediate reaction was to say no because I feared Randy’s retribution, but as I stared into Jackson’s eyes, I felt a new sense of power overtake me.
I was tired of being afraid.
I was tired of letting Randy intimidate me and tear me down.
I took a deep breath and gave him a firm nod.
I said, “Yes, I will.”
The officer told me someone would be in touch and headed out the door. Jackson reached out his uninjured hand and wiggled his fingers at me.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
I put my hand in his and let him lift me out of the chair.
I asked, “Where are we going?”
He held a hand toward the door and said, “I think we should talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Amy Lynne
Jackson followed me back to my shitty little apartment so we could talk. I was totally embarrassed, letting him see how I lived. My pathetic little life was such a stark contrast to the life of luxury he was used to.
Nevertheless, he insisted, so I led the way across town in my Honda while he followed in his Range Rover.
I got the feeling that he wanted to hash things out before letting Lizzie see me again. I couldn’t blame him. The way I acted was inexcusable. And if I wasn’t going to return as her nanny, there was no reason to expose Lizzie to my insane ways ever again.
I ignored the stares of my neighbors as we parked in the lot and Jackson followed me up the walk and into my apartment. I knew what they were thinking.
“Look, she’s finally done it. She’s officially a whore. Look at that rich guy she’s bringing home to have sex with. Deplorable!”
“This is it,” I said, forcing a smile as I stepped aside to let him come in. I felt like I could just die. “Home sweet home.”
“It’s lovely,” he said without making it sound too sarcastic.
“No, it’s not lovely,” I said, closing the door and twisting the double locks. “It’s a shit hole, but better than living on the street.”
I led him into the tiny kitchen and told him to have a seat at the folding card table while I made us a cup of instant coffee. I put the kettle on to boil and went into the bedroom alone to change out of my uniform (khaki soccer mom pants and a cheap polo shirt with the Bud’s Convenience Store logo).
I took a minute to freshen up in the bathroom. It was just an excuse to be alone because I thought I was having a panic attack. My hands were shaking. Beads of sweat dotted my forehead. My breath came in shuddering gusts. I sat down on the toilet and put my head in my hands. I breathed slowly and waited for the nausea to pass.
It wasn’t the altercation with Randy that had me upset. It was the fact that Jackson Ritter was sitting in my shitty little kitchen waiting for me to emerge.
I had no idea what Jackson was going to say or how I would respond. For a moment, I wished that he hadn’t found me. My life had gotten so much better since I’d met him, but also so much more complicated. Then again, if he hadn’t shown up, I would probably be in the hospital now from the beating that Randy was about to give me. I got off the toilet and stood at the sink to splash cold water on my face. My nerves settled a bit, so I dried my face and went back into the kitchen.
Jackson was standing at the counter, filling two cups with hot water to make the instant coffee.
“The kettle was boiling,” he said, briskly stirring the bitter brew to make it drinkable. He set the cups on the table and sat down. I took the chair across from him.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t thank me till you taste it,” he said with a smile. “I didn’t even know they made instant coffee anymore.”
“Not everybody can afford a Keurig,” I said. It came out more spiteful than I had intended. “Anyway…”
“So,” Jackson said, eyebrows arched. “Randy seems like quite a piece of work.”
I chuckled. “Oh yeah, he’s a piece of something, all right.” I took the coffee cup between my hands and stared into the oily liquid as I sniffed back the tears that were threatening to fall. “I appreciate you saving me.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So, we need to talk about… um… things.”
“I’m really sorry I ran out on you like that,” I said quietly, still staring into my cup to avoid looking into his eyes. “It was a silly, childish thing to do. And I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that the only reason I wanted you around was to fu… um… have sex with you. Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Apology accepted,” I said, mustering a little smile that quickly faded. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to come to work for you.”