I lower my voice several notches. “My husband isholding me hostage in our home. Please help me.” In the other room, it sounds like Graham is ending his own call. I don’t have much time. “This is my address.”
I recite my address, and before the operator can say anything, I hang up.
Graham strides back into the room, his phone still gripped in his palm. He adjusts his blue tie that matches the color of his eyes. I wonder how long the police will take to get here. I imagine them bursting into our house, and Graham attempting to charm them… or maybe stammering excuses for what he’s done. But the police won’t buy it. I mean, the lock on the door clearly shows imprisonment. He can’t hide that.
“Everything okay, Tess?” he asks.
“Yes, of course.” I force a smile. I have to pretend everything is fine, or else God knows what he’ll do. What if it becomes a hostage situation?
He looks pointedly at my plate. “You’re not eating.”
I stare down at the toast and bacon. The toast is charred to a crisp, and the bacon is black. I’d have to scrape off most of the toast to make it edible. And I’m nervous to eat it. Until Graham sits down across from me and starts digging into his food. It’s not the plate he thought he’d be eating from, and he obviously thinks it’s safe, so that means my own food must be safe.
But I still have no appetite.
Ziggy whimpers at my side. He licks my hand and looks up at me hopefully. I take a piece of bacon off my plate and offer it to him. He gobbles it up.
Graham’s jaw clenches. “I wish you wouldn’t feed himoff the table.”
“Sorry,” I say, even as I’m passing Ziggy a second piece of bacon. “I didn’t know.”
“Right, but… common sense, Tess.”
“Of course, you’re right,” I say. And I pass Ziggy another piece of bacon.
Graham watches me, his eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Just taking my time.” I glanced down at the clock display on my phone. It’s only been a few minutes since I called 911. How long do they take to get here? I assume they would use sirens in a situation like this. Or maybe not. “So, um, how did we meet?”
The right corner of Graham’s lips quirks up. “Actually, I saved your life.”
“Really?”
He nods. “We were in this restaurant, and you were a few tables away from me. And I heard you making a sound like you were choking. I turned around and your entire face was turning blue. So I came over and did the Heimlich.”
I scrape a bit of the black off the toast with my fork. “I thought when people are choking, they don’t make any sound.”
“Well, you did.” He glances at his watch. “Let me get you something to drink.”
I watch as he gets up out of his chair and grabs a container out of the refrigerator. He pulls a glass from the cabinet above the sink and pours a big heaping glass of blood-red liquid. What in the hell is that?
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Pomegranate juice.” He brings the glass over to the kitchen island and drops it down in front of me. “It’s your favorite.”
I crinkle my nose. “Myfavorite?”
“Oh yes.” He sits down and takes another bite of his bacon. “You love that stuff. Yesterday you had asecondglass. I thought I was going to have to go out and buy more of it.”
Is he serious? That can’t possibly be true. I would feel like a vampire drinking that stuff. And either way, I’m not drinking anything he gives me. I want to be coherent when the police arrive.
He arches an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to try it?”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, Tess?” He tilts his head to the side. “You don’t seem like yourself. Maybe we should go to the doctor.”
At even the mention of seeing my doctor, a fist clenches in my chest. I hate going to the doctor. I’ve hated doctors ever since my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis when I was a child. Just walking into a hospital makes me ill.
