Chapter 4
The sedan was closer than it had looked from the top of the steps. Black paint beaded with rain, the rear door handle cold enough that I felt it through the wet before I even touched it. My suitcase hit a seam in the concrete at the base of the stairs and tipped, and I caught it with my hip. My other hand stayed under my belly. The gown clung to my calves, heavy, the beads catching every drop.
I could hear Mark two steps above me. Not moving. Breathing hard through his nose. Rain hammered the roof of the car and the stone and the shallow puddle that had formed around my bare feet. I didn't look back at the doorway. I knew Evelyn and Vanessa were still there, in the warm light, with their glasses. I kept my eyes on the car.
I got to the rear passenger door and set my hand on the handle. The plan in my head had been simple. Open the door. Slide the suitcase across. Get in behind it. Tell the driver to go. I'd practiced it on the way down the steps, each word in order so I wouldn't have to think.
I pulled.
The handle gave a half inch and stopped. Locked.
I pulled again, harder, and the whole car shivered a little on its suspension but the latch didn't release. The chrome was slick. My fingers slipped. I wiped my palm on the wet gauze of my dress and tried a third time, palm flat now, shoulder into it. Nothing. A soft, dull thud on the other side where the lock held.
Rain ran off the roof in a sheet and hit my forearm. My hair stuck to my neck. I stared at my own hand on the handle like it belonged to someone else. I could feel the baby shift low and hard against my palm where I was still holding my belly. I let go of the handle and the suitcase at the same time. The suitcase settled on its wheels beside my feet.
"Sofia."
Mark's voice came from just behind and above me. I didn't turn.
He came down the last two steps. Slowly. His dress shoes made a wet slap on the stone. He stopped a foot away, too close, rain spattering off his shoulders onto the car door between us. He didn't reach for me right away. He reached into his suit pants pocket.
He pulled out the fob. Black, small. The little red light blinked once when his thumb brushed it. He held it loosely, not offering it, not putting it away. Just holding it at his side where I could see it.
I looked at it. Then at his face. Water streamed down his forehead and into his collar. His white shirt was transparent where it stuck to him.
"Open it," I said. My voice sounded thinner than I wanted it to.
He shook his head once. "Come inside and we can talk."
I swallowed. Rain got in my mouth. "Give me the keys."
He didn't move his hand. He turned the fob over in his palm like he was thinking about it, then closed his fingers around it.
"You're soaked," he said. "You're barefoot. You're pregnant. Come inside. We'll talk in the den. Just you and me."
"Open the door, Mark."
"It's pouring. You'll get sick. The baby—"
"Don't." I cut him off. The word came out sharper than the others. I steadied myself with a hand on the car roof. The metal was cold. "Give me the keys and let me go."
He looked up toward the mansion, then back at me. His jaw worked. When he spoke again he kept his voice low, the way he did when he didn't want staff to hear.
"I'm not going to let you leave like this," he said. "Not barefoot in a gown in the rain with a suitcase. Come inside. Twenty minutes. If you still want to go after that, we'll figure it out like adults."
He held the fob tighter. He didn't extend it. He didn't press the button.
I reached out. Not for the fob, for the door again, as if trying it once more would change it. My fingers found the handle. I pulled. Locked. My knuckles went white. I let go.
The suitcase was at my feet, rain pooling around its wheels, the retractable handle still fully extended where I'd been pulling it. My dress dripped onto it, darkening the black fabric in spots. The sedan sat there, glossy, empty, useless without the small piece of plastic in his hand. The driver wasn't in the front seat. The car was locked and the keys were with Mark.
May you like
I stood there with both hands on my belly now, breathing through my nose, rain hitting the tops of my shoulders. I didn't go back toward the steps. I didn't get in. I just stayed exactly where I was, beside the locked door, the suitcase at my feet, and Mark between me and any other choice.
He didn't unlock it.
