I should just find the evidence from the day we went to Teo’s uncle's grave and erase it, but I don’t even know where to startlooking. I wish I could ask someone for help, but I can’t risk Missi finding out.
As I walk down the stairs, and head for the kitchen, I pass all the new staff Missi has hired to care for her. She didn’t like Mrs. Grensa, our family’s maid, who has been with us for over twenty years.
She fired her for not using the right fabric softener on her clothes. Just another battle I let her win. It’s easier to give in than to argue. I’m sick of fighting. I just need some goddamn peace. It was hard to see her leave, but I called my mom and she promised to give her a huge retirement check.
Walking into the kitchen, I stop and watch as the new gardener and our potential nanny flirt.
It reminds me of the days on the beach with Rylee and Teo. When our relationship first started. Even though that went to shit thanks to miscommunication. If we had just talked it out, I could have had more time with her. Instead, we were cruel, bullying her like a bunch of idiots.
“Oh, Mr. Crane,” Janie says, spotting me in the doorway. She steps away from Julian. “I’m sorry, I rang the bell and Julian answered. Mrs. Crane asked me to stop by and fill out some legal paperwork.”
I cringe at her referring to Missi as my wife, but I guess I should get used to it.
“She must have forgotten to inform me. Why don’t you come back later this week. We have a press interview in an hour.”
Julian won’t look at me for some reason. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, then slips out the back door.
Ugh, don’t tell me Missi is screwing the gardener. Janie grabs her purse and gives me a smile. She’s young, and attractive. Honestly, I was surprised that Missi hired her.
“Is there a specific time or day to come back?” she asks me, and before I can reply, Missi starts screaming at the top of the stairs.
Janie's eyes widen, and I would laugh if I wasn't cringing inside. She hasn't signed an NDA yet.
“Hold that thought,” I mutter, then turn and leave the kitchen, heading for the stairs.
Missi is scowling with her hands on her hips. “Do you expect me, the mother of your fucking child, to hobble my way down these steps? Really, Lenny, you can be such an asshole sometimes.”
I march up the stairs and grip her cheeks. I have just about had it with her shit. I'm about to say fuck to everything, and just let her release the tape.
I won't let the others take the fall for the crime. I will accept full blame.
“Cut your shit,” I hiss, and Missi's nostrils flare. “We aren't alone, and unless you want to pop your perfect relationship bubble, I suggest you shut the fuck up!”
She nods and I let her go. Pasting a fake smile on her face, she takes my hand as I help her down the stairs, ignoring her grumbling.
“Oh, here, let's get you seated.” Janie rushes over and fluffs up the couch cushion for Missi to sit.
Missi preens at the attention and I close my eyes, rolling them behind the lids.
“Oh, Lenny, why didn't you tell me the nanny was here?”
I sigh, open my eyes and grin. “I didn't know she was coming, dear,” I grumble, and Missi purses her lips.
“Oh, silly me. Must be the pregnancy brain. I've read that it can cause some memory fog.”
I have to bite my lip to keep from bursting out in a laugh. Missi doesn’t know shit about her pregnancy. She hardly evenacknowledges the baby unless she wants something. I hate to think my child is going to become just another manipulation tool.
Janie laughs as her and Missi start discussing something I really don't care enough about to listen in on.
The doorbell rings and their conversation stops. “Oh. That must be the press. We will have to get together another time, sweetie.” Janie stands and smiles.
“Great, just give me a call. I am very excited to care for your little one in just a few more months.”
She leaves and I take a seat next to Missi, waiting to get this charade over with. Missi leans closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder, creating the perfect image of a couple madly in love.
But what people don't see is how she's digging her nails into my thigh so deep that I am going to have a permanent mark.
I'm so fucking tempted to chop off her press-ons while she sleeps. They are the perfect hidden weapon for a psycho.
