“Don’t be. I have a couple of bills. It’ll be fine.”
That’s what he claims, but Curran’s covering everything and I need to start pulling my weight. I have interviews set up at a few law firms downtown. My work with Declan has also earned me interviews for the DA positions opening in the fall. In truth, a DA spot is what I want, but the starting salary is minimal compared to those at the more prestigious firms who phoned to schedule interviews. In the end, though, we have a baby coming, and he or she needs to come first.
My thoughts continue to whirl as I drive Curran to the precinct. “What are you thinking, angel face?” he asks.
“That I have a lot to do and little time to do it in.”
He bends to tie his boots. “I was thinking the same thing, but one step at a time, right? Did you call the doc to see if she can get you in sooner?”
“I did, but her schedule is pretty tight. According to the office staff, I’m still scheduled for my first appointment at fifteen weeks unless there’s a problem.”
Curran strokes my cheek. “But there’s no problem, right?”
“I’m assuming not.” I scrunch my nose. “Although I’m starting to feel nauseous in the afternoons. But I suppose it’s all part of being pregnant.”
He seems worried, but as I roll to a stop outside the precinct, his cop face replaces any concerns that remain. “I should be done around seven, okay? If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
I lean toward him so he can kiss me goodbye. “Okay. Be careful.”
“You, too.”
The warmth and affection behind his kiss linger as I pull away from the curb. The rookie assigned to me easily keeps up.
I work through my to-do list as I drive: grocery shopping, dinner prep, and mailing the résumés I still need to send out. I should head to the store and get the shopping out of the way. Instead, I find myself driving in the direction of my apartment.
Curran is right. In every way possible, it’s time to say goodbye to my past.
An odd sense seems to fill me the closer I draw to my old residence. Maybe it’s the reminder that it was never my home. My father made that clear enough.
I frown as moments of his cruelty play across my mind: his strikes, his words, his sharp tone, and how he made me think I was ugly and worthless. Curran never agreed with him; even back in college when I was unhealthy and frail, he saw something in me that I didn’t know was there.
“We would have hooked up a lot sooner if you’d given me a chance,” he told me the other night.
“Um” had been my only response.
The smile triggered by what Curran said fades. As much as I’m grateful for him, I can’t help feeling ashamed. I should have found the strength without him, and within me, to break from Father’s hold. I don’t want to be the woman some hulking hero needs to rescue—Curran deserves better than that—but it seems that’s exactly what I’ve become.
My foot slams down on the emergency brake after I place his large truck in park. I should be more aware of my surroundings, but it seems I’ve grown too dependent on the guards who shadow me. If I were more focused, I would have seen my father’s car.
And his presence in my apartment wouldn’t surprise me like it does.
The smoke from his cigar swirls into the air from where his hand rests on the couch. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him. According to the evening news, he’s been the driving force behind Spencer’s campaign for mayor. Yet as busy as he’s been, that hasn’t stopped his constant calls to my landline, all of which I’ve ignored. Nor has it likely stopped his uninvited visits. But I’ve been staying with Curran and have thankfully avoided him…until now.
His back is to me, but I hear the slurp he takes from his glass just fine. My eyes skim to the half-empty bottle of scotch on the table beside him. “At last my daughter returns,” he says.