Chapter 2
His hand did not let go.
The rain had soaked through the beading on my dress and the fabric clung to my stomach, heavy and cold. Mark's fingers were locked around my upper arm, wet skin against wet skin, and every time I breathed his grip tightened like he was afraid I'd disappear between inhales. Below us the black sedan sat at the bottom of the steps with its headlights cutting through the rain. Behind us the doorway glowed warm and gold.
I twisted.
It wasn't hard, just sharp, a quick turn of my shoulder away from him. I wanted him to lose his hold for half a second. Just enough to get my balance again. The handle of the rolling suitcase was still in my other hand and when I turned the case tipped. One wheel caught the lip of the next marble step and stuck.
The sound was small, rubber scraping stone, almost lost under the rain.
The suitcase lurched and I stumbled with it. My bare foot slipped on the wet marble and I caught myself with the hand on my belly. The suitcase stayed tipped, one wheel jammed, the whole weight pulling at my wrist. Mark didn't let go. If anything he pulled me back toward him a few inches, steadying me even as he held me in place.
"Sofia, don't," he said. It was low, almost quiet, not like the voice he'd used at the top of the steps. His hair was plastered to his forehead and water ran down his white shirt, turning it transparent. "Come back inside. We can talk inside. Not out here in the rain."
I didn't answer. I couldn't tell if he was asking or telling.
Down at the base of the steps, the driver's door of the black sedan opened.
I saw it in my peripheral vision. The driver had been sitting there the whole time, engine running, parking lights on. He pushed his door open and stepped half out, one foot on the wet driveway, one hand on the top of the door frame. He didn't come up the steps. He didn't call out. He just stood there, waiting, looking up at us through the rain like he wasn't sure he was supposed to be part of this.
That open door changed the air. It was an exit that was actually open, not just parked.
Mark glanced down, followed my eyes, then looked back at me.
"You're soaked," he said, his voice still low, controlled for anyone watching from the doorway. "You're shivering. Think about the baby. Let's just go back in, sit down, and discuss this like adults. Please."
Think about the baby. He said it like a leash.
My fingers were numb from the cold handle. The wheel was still caught. I could feel Evelyn and Vanessa up there in the doorway, not moving, champagne flutes in their hands, watching. The light from the chandelier behind them threw their shadows down the steps toward us. I didn't look back to confirm they were still there. I knew they were.
I yanked.
Hard this time, not a twist but a straight pull down, away from him, using my whole body weight. My arm slipped in his wet grip. For a second his fingers dragged against my skin, then lost purchase. The sudden give sent me down one step, bare feet slapping the wet stone. The suitcase came free with a jerk as the wheel popped off the lip and rolled, and I nearly lost my hold on it completely. I caught the handle with both hands for half a second to keep from dropping it, my belly tightening with the effort.
I was one step lower now. Rain hit my face harder without his body shielding me. My hair stuck to my neck and my dress dripped. My chest was rising fast, shallow breaths I tried to control.
Mark was still right there. He'd come down the step right after me, within arm's reach again, hands open now like he didn't want to grab me a second time but wouldn't let me go either. The distance between us was maybe a foot.
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Below, the sedan door stayed open. The driver hadn't moved closer. Water pooled on the roof of the car and streamed off the sides. The interior light was on, yellow against the blue dark, and I could see the back seat empty and waiting.
I stood on that lower step, suitcase handle slick in my hand, Mark's shadow falling over me, the open car ten feet away and no closer than it had been before.
