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The following morning, Angelo drove us both to where Yolanda’s drop-in center was located.
Not wanting to draw too much attention to either ourselves or her, we parked the car a couple of blocks away and walked the rest, hand-in-hand.
The building was a big, old red stone which looked as though it had been a hostel or something similar in the past. Now it sported the sign ‘Transient House’ above the front door, which stood open.
A familiar figure was standing just inside the doorway.
My stomach fluttered with nerves. It was crazy to be nervous about seeing Yolanda again—or Margarite, as she was now known. I’d known her my whole life, and she’d never given me any impression that she wouldn’t want to see me. But so much had happened over the past few months, and it was clear that she’d started a new life for herself. I worried that she wouldn’t be happy about her old one creeping back in.
My thoughts went to all the other women, and the lives they’d started for themselves. Grace had gone back home. She’d called her parents’ home phone number, bursting into tears the moment they’d answered. She’d been unable to speak, and we’d heard the tinny, worried voices on the other end. I’d thought we were going to have to talk for her, but then she’d managed to pull herself together enough to tell them it was her and that she was safe. I’d watched the conversation with a painful lump in my throat and tears filling my eyes. Angelo had slipped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me tight, picking up on my emotions.
Naturally, her parents had left immediately to pick her up. They were less than fifty miles away, crazy to think their daughter, who had been missing for the last two years, had been so close all this time. A cold hatred had filled me at that moment, and I was glad to have killed Torres. The son-of-a-bitch deserved everything he’d got.
I hadn’t wanted to leave Grace alone to let her parents pick her up, but Angelo had convinced me it wasn’t a good idea for people to see us with her. She’d promised to leave us out of the story she’d eventually tell the police, and would say instead that all she knew was the party had ended in an argument, and people had started shooting. She’d hidden under the table, so she wouldn’t be able to give them details on who had hurt who.
I wished we’d been able to do more for Deanna and even Kimmie. In the weeks following my escape, I’d managed to track down Deanna’s family through news articles that had been published around the time she’d vanished, and I’d left them an anonymous message to tell them how sorry I was, but that she was dead. I figured that was better than them never knowing, but I’d still wondered if I’d done the right thing. Maybe I’d have been better to let them have hope. I knew hope had kept me going during my time with Torres. Kimmie had been right when she’d said she had no one who would miss her. I hadn’t been able to find anyone. Her love for Torres might have been flawed and damaged, but it had been the only love she’d had.
Angelo and I stood hand in hand at the entrance of the drop-in center. Yolanda was busy talking to another woman, but she must have sensed us standing there as she glanced over. She looked away again immediately, but then shot back around, her mouth dropping open.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” she said to the woman she’d been talking to.
The woman nodded and smiled and moved away.
Yolanda stared at us in shock as she walked toward the open doorway. “Tell me I’m not seeing things?”
I risked a smile. “You’re not seeing things.”
“Well, fuck me sideways. Both of you, follow me.”
She turned, her long skirt flowing around her legs, and strode back down the hallway. I exchanged a glance with Angelo, who gave me a shrug, and then we both followed.
She led us into a tiny room that appeared to double as an office, and shut the door behind her. Only when the door was firmly shut did she turn to us, tears shining in her dark eyes.
“I never thought I’d see your faces again. I’m so happy you’re both still together. That you got to have that.”
I burst into tears and stepped into her embrace. She hugged me tight, and then reached out her arm to pull Angelo in as well, so we were standing in a strange, three-way hug that felt completely right.
Even Angelo appeared choked.
“How did you find me?” Yolanda asked, swiping away at tears.
“We saw your story online,” Angelo said. “You’ve done so well, helping all these women.”
She smiled at Angelo. “I used some of the money from the compound. It seemed like the right thing to do.”
He nodded. “It was. What about the other women from the compound—Marie, and Carla, and Michelle, and Bianca?”
“They all went their own way. Some went back to their families. Others started over again. We all needed a fresh start.” She gave us a smile. “What about you? What are you both up to now?”
We glanced at each other.
“We’re okay,” I said. “Just getting by.”
She looked between us. “Only getting by?”
Angelo grimaced. “It’s not been easy. We need to get different identities, but it costs money, and that’s something we don’t have. But we’re safe and we’re together, and that’s all that counts.”
“Wait here a moment.” Yolanda went to a small safe in the corner of the room and opened it. There were wads of notes at the back. “These are from Silas Cassidy’s office,” she said. “Take it.”
Angelo shook his head. “No, it’s yours now. I gave it to you.”
“I have everything I need.”
“But the women you’re helping...” I said helplessly.
“So, make some donations when you’re settled somewhere.”
I put my hand out and touched the back of Yolanda’s hand. “We didn’t come here for this. You know that, don’t you? Taking money from you was never our intention.”
She smiled. “I know that, silly girl, but this feels right. You’re as much a victim of abuse as any of the other women who visit the center. You have every right to be able to go and start a new life up for yourself.”
Angelo glanced down at the money. “It’s enough to get us new identifications, Catalina. We can start again somewhere properly. Be different people.” A smile spread across his face. “Yolanda’s right. You deserve this.”
I looked between them both, my heart lightening.
Did I dare to hope for such a thing?
***
THE SUN FELT AS THOUGH it was emerging from hibernation, the first hint of warmth to its rays now that winter was over, and we were heading back into spring.
We sat together at a small bistro table outside of a Paris café, overlooking the Seine river, watching the boats filled with tourists go by. They all snapped photographs of the stunning scenery, and Angelo and I exchanged a knowing look. We weren’t vacationers here any longer. We’d rented an apartment in the Latin Quarter, and we were here to stay.
“You know we can’t afford this,” I told him as a waiter dressed in black and white approached with a bottle and two glasses.
Angelo smiled at me, impossibly handsome in the spring sunshine, and my heart flipped. “I promised you we’d drink champagne in Paris, remember?”
“I remember,” I told him. “But we need to make our money last.”
He grinned. “A promise is a promise, Kitty.”
The waiter set the glasses down in front of us and poured the champagne. Angelo gave him a nod of thanks, and the waiter placed the bottle in a silver cooler for us, and then went back to deal with other customers.
I reached out and picked up my glass, and Angelo did the same. “To new beginnings,” he toasted.
“New beginnings,” I parroted then added, “And to us, and Yolanda, and Deanna, and all the other women who’ve helped us.”
He smiled back, and I could see my own bittersweet happiness reflected in his dark eyes—eyes I loved with all my heart.
Things had been perfect since we’d left America. I finally had my own identification and was a real person in the eyes of society, and even Angelo seemed to have gotten his anxiety under control. I hadn’t seen him tap or count once since we’d arrived.
We both sipped our champagne, and the bubbles tickled my nose. I was still only eighteen, but here in Paris, I was allowed to drink champagne, just like I was allowed to do all of the things any adult was allowed to do—drive a car, rent an apartment. Get married. It was definitely something we’d talked about, together with having children of our own. Nothing and no one would tear us apart again.
“I love you, Catalina,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “More than anything.”
I hesitated before I placed my lips against his, a smile dancing across them. I was happy now, happier than I’d ever thought it possible to be.
“More than anything,” I told him.
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THE END
Liked what you read? Why not try Marissa Farrar’s dark romance ‘Monster’ trilogy. Keep reading for the prologue and first chapter of book one, Defaced.
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Rich... dangerous... disfigured.
I HAD HER kidnapped to fix the one thing that has kept me hidden from society my whole life.
My face.
But, as the days go by, she’s affecting the part of me no woman has ever touched.
My heart.
I’m drawn to her. And I can tell she’s drawn to me, too, though she fights it. I see it in the longing glances and the quickening of her breath, even as I hold her down.
Lily.
They call me Monster through no fault of my own, but she’s the only one who’s ever made me feel like a man...