When you want to hide from the world, hide in me.
There was something about an unexpected knock at the door that sent a jolt of panic through me. Like Pavlov’s dog, but in reverse. Instead of hearing a bell and drooling, I heard a doorbell and hid. It could have been PTSD from all the childhood evictions I experienced when we were forced out of home after home. Landlords are rarely kind when they’re hauling you out on the street. Or it could have derived from the vivid recall of cops showing up at these various temporary homes to drag my dad off to a night in the slammer for yet another domestic assault. It tended to leave an imprint on a child’s memory. It even crossed my mind that it could be just because I didn’t want to be caught in my pajamas on a Wednesday afternoon, but that sounded way too normal and conventional an excuse for me. Whatever it was that had turned me knock-phobic, it meant I never liked surprises. I always wanted to know what to expect.
Deep down, I knew the real reason. It was because I was always running, always hiding. Always waiting to be found. It’s like swimming in the ocean at night, when you suddenly start to wonder what’s underneath the surface of the water. Because you’re always certain there’s a shark circling your legs.
I was in the kitchen making a snack when the first knock came.
I was in the living room peering through the curtains when the second knock followed.
By the time the doorbell rang, I was running to the entryway.
My lungs snatched for air. I threw open the door and saw Noah standing on the porch, resolute in the way he cocked his hips, his gaze roving my body. Not in a seductive way—the scrutiny was pure, naked hatred. He wasn’t going to leave until he’d had words. I knew this from sharing years of life with him. Was he here to drag me back into the nightmare of my past? Because driving eight hours from Pennsylvania to North Carolina seemed a bit extreme just to collect on a $500 debt.
Noah didn’t scare me anymore. In fact, he should have been scared of me. I was tougher now, a seasoned fighter, thanks to him. There’s a point in life when you simply won’t let yourself get knocked down anymore. I had finally passed that point.
“Is someone at the door?” Harper called from somewhere inside the house.
I didn’t want Harper finding Noah here, tattletaling to Lane about it. “I got it. It was just a delivery!”
I sucked in a steadying breath and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me. Seeing Noah was like traveling through time. I had been preparing for this moment since the long Greyhound bus ride away from him. And finally, here I was, ready to take him on. I’d wasted my youth idolizing him, but now, he was just a tarnished piece of junk that left gilt on my fingers.
“Noah Gosling. I never expected to see you again.”
“You don’t look happy to see me.”
“Did you expect otherwise?”
My ex, in the flesh, wearing ripped jeans that hung loosely from bony hips and a frayed Def Leppard T-shirt worn so thin that it looked like had gotten it at an actual Def Leppard concert in the 1980s. He still had the lip piercing, but I no longer found the poor-boy grunge look sexy. I had matured. Now I found money, success, and true love sexy.
“After all our years together I hoped for a little nostalgia. Anyway, Candace Moriarty . . . or whatever last name you’re going by now. I found that pretty clever, by the way, you being a Sherlock Holmes fan and all.”
“Uh-huh. How did you find me?”
“Don’t you know you can find just about anything about everyone online these days? All I needed was your new alias, which your sister-in-law so kindly gave me.”
Harper, of course. I would have to remember to thank her with a slap to the face.
“The rest was simply filling in the blanks on where you lived and a search on a public records database. Did you know you can even find cell phone numbers online . . . for free? That was an unexpected surprise.”
“So that was you who texted me that lovely little threat. What was it you said again? It’s time we had a chat.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the heads-up.” He sneered. “Now here I am, an eight-hour drive later, face-to-face with the woman who stole my money and publicly humiliated me.”
“Is that why you’re here? Over a measly five hundred bucks and some embarrassment?”
“Hell no. You’re not worth the energy.” He exchanged his grin for a crooked frown, the lip ring weighing down half his mouth.
“Then why are you here? And why have you been stalking me?”
He laughed, but I didn’t find this conversation funny in the least.
“Stalking you? You need to get over yourself. No one’s stalking you but the demons you’re running from. You should trust the hairs on the back of your neck. There’s a reason you have them. I’m not here for you; I’m here for me.”
No surprise there. Everything was always about him. “I’m listening. What do you want?” I was ready to be done with this conversation, done with Noah. For good.
He pushed against the door behind me, and I stepped forward to block him.
“You’ve got some balls, standing up to me.”
“I learned to fight back after I left your sorry ass.”
“Oh, come on. Where’s your hospitality? Let’s go inside and have a nice little chat.” He wasn’t asking, though, as he shoved his weight forward.
I rammed him back a pace. “Screw you. I don’t owe you a chat. And I’m certainly not letting you inside my home.”
“Why? Are you ashamed of me? Or is it that you don’t want your new little family to find out about me? I’m your dirty little secret, aren’t I?”
Not so much a secret anymore as a shame I didn’t want to introduce them to. I hoped Harper wouldn’t come looking for me. I just needed to find out what he wanted so I could get rid of him.
“I saw your new man. He doesn’t look very good in bed.” I heard the insecurity between the folds of his words. He was picking a fight because he was jealous.
“I thought you weren’t stalking me. That sure sounds like stalking.”
“I bet having sex with him is like doing community service, isn’t it?”
Noah wasn’t exactly wrong. The first time with Lane was polite rom-com sex. I almost had my doubts about being with him after that, a man who always read the fine print and respected speed limits. But then things changed, like he had something to prove. It had intensified from PG family-friendly sex to passionate put-a-baby-in-me sex. I brought the animal out in him, and he brought the love out in me.
“That’s none of your business. Just get to the point, Noah. Why are you here?”
Clawing at his wrist, I dragged him to the corner of the front porch where we’d draw the least amount of attention. He coiled his tattooed arm around my neck like we were buddies. I hated him for coming here. I hated his ugly thoughts that turned into ugly words that spewed from his ugly mouth. I shoved his arm off me.
“I know you have to go back to playing house and all, but I have a gift for you.” He handed me a large manila envelope that I hadn’t even noticed him holding this whole time.
“What is this?”
“Open it and find out.”
I unclasped the seal and looked inside. Sliding a thin stack of papers out, I read the top line aloud: “‘Divorce Agreement.’” It tasted so sweet to say it. “You’re giving me a divorce?”
“Yup.”
“What’s the catch?” Noah always had a catch.
“While you were off stealing my money and playing hide-and-seek, I met a girl. I want to marry her. Legit, unlike your fake little family. But to do that, I need a divorce.”
There had to be more than this. Noah didn’t care about convention or propriety. Certainly no girl was worth all the hassle of finding me, coming all the way down here, and arranging for this divorce agreement just so that he could make an honest woman of her.
“What’s so special about this girl?”
“What’s so special about your guy? When it’s love, it’s love.”
“That poor girl has no idea what hell she’s in for with you.”
“No, Candace, I’m a changed man. True love brought out the good in me. You and I, we were toxic. But this girl pulls me apart like taffy. That darkness that used to own me, she’s the light that makes it scatter.”
Who was this person speaking? The pretty prose didn’t match the skull tattoo on his arm.
“Waxing poetic over her, huh? You really have changed.” No, Noah loved no one but himself. There was something else. “It can’t be that she’s that good in bed. She has something to offer you. Something no one else can give you.”
Noah’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “You think so little of me.”
“That’s because I know you.”
And that was when the puzzle pieces clicked into place. “You finally found yourself a trust fund girl, didn’t you? You always told me you would.”
He laughed. “You do know me.”
Of course. There was the catch. A rich girl, someone who could give him a fresh start. I wondered if perhaps she could give Lane and me a fresh start too. We could run away to some exotic beach together, or maybe a cute little farm in the rural foothills where we’d raise our child on fields of flowers. For once, Noah could be my ticket to something better.
“Fine, I’ll sign this. But only on one condition. I want paid. I want recompense for all the pain you caused me, all the babies you took from me, all the scars you left me with.”
I watched to see if he understood me. He did.
“How much is all that worth?”
“How rich is your new girlfriend?”
He scoffed. “Wow, and here I thought you had changed into a nice girl. How about ten grand?”
“Ha! I don’t think so. My autograph is worth way more than that. I’m thinking closer to ten . . . times ten.”
“One hundred grand? Are you kidding me with that? Hell no. I’ll just tell your new cuddle buddy that his wife isn’t legally his because you’re still married . . . to me. See if he still wants you then. You’ll be out on the street with nothing.”
“Oh, I don’t have anything left to lose. But it sounds like you do. A rich fiancée is your path to a perfect life. What’s a perfect life worth to you? Because I’ll need at least one hundred thousand dollars to get myself settled.”
He considered. He pouted. He shook his head. Finally he caved.
“Fine, a hundred grand.”
“When you have the money, I’ll have the signed divorce papers.” I lifted the envelope, flapped it in his face, and headed toward the front door.
“I got your money.” He pulled out a checkbook with a pen tucked in the fold. Sure enough, his name, along with his fiancée’s, was printed across the top, and below it a new address in a town I didn’t recognize. He scribbled hastily in the blanks, then handed me the pen. “Now give me my divorce.”
It seemed awfully convenient that he had that much money accessible from his pocket. “How do I know this is a real check for real money?”
“Cash it and find out. When have you ever known me to own a checkbook? Like I said, life is good. And I can make yours good too if you trust me.”
I had no other choice but to trust him. He turned around and leaned over, and I placed the papers on his back, signing where each sticky note told me to.
“Looks like we’ll both have it all—the perfect house in suburbia, a nice car, and a fat bank account. Oh—” He glanced down at my belly. “And a kid on the way. Congratulations on the rug rat.”
He had to go there, didn’t he? After all the miscarriages that he had caused, the rage wrapped itself around my body, curling my fingers into fists. The violence of my thoughts shook me, and it took every ounce of self-control not to slap him right then and there. To hurt him like he hurt all my babies before this one. But instead, I stood stoically, burying the anger inside, because I knew if it came out, it would never stop.
“Oh, and by the way, now that we’re square, stop following me. You think you’re so clandestine in your black car and aviators. You’re such a cliché, Noah.”
He squinted in confusion. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a black car.” He pointed to the monstrous gas-guzzling blue truck parked on the street with wheels so big it could have crushed my tiny four-door. The truck looked to be more expensive than the single-wide trailer we had lived in for most of our marriage. “And I certainly don’t wear aviator sunglasses.”
If Noah hadn’t been following me, who had? And why?
Folding and pocketing the check, I wondered if my bruises and scars were worth a hundred thousand dollars. No, there was no price high enough, but at least this afforded Lane and me a new beginning. As I headed to the door and Noah headed down the walkway, we both turned back one more time. The last time we’d share a glance. A final goodbye, forever.
“Hey—” Noah said, the word catching me at the stoop. “Nice hair. I like you better with it dark.”
Dark, just like my soul.