“I know. I should have listened.”
“This isn’t about I told you so. What’s important is you’re safe, and you’re okay. Are you staying there a while?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think it through.”
“Call me and let me know. Please.”
“I will, Sara. Thank you, and I’m sorry all this happened to you.”
“I’m strong. You be the same.”
“I will. Bye, Sara.”
She hangs up and I look up to find Ralph gaping at me by the doorway. “I googled. I’m guilty. I’m weak sometimes. I admit it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut a moment and when I blink Ralph back into view, he’s sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of me with an expectant look on his face. Sighing in resignation, I share the same details with him that I have with Amanda. “Wow,” he says when I’m done, shaking his head. “Just . . . wow. The bitch tried to whack you.”
“Whack?”
“Don’t you watch The Sopranos?”
“No.”
“Where have you been, honey? When Tony had a problem . . .” He drags a finger across his neck. “Head gone, and body and feet in concrete blocks in the ocean.”
“In the ocean,” I croak, replaying Rebecca’s nightmares of drowning.
“In whatever water is convenient.” His eyes widen. “You think—”
“No.” I hold up a hand. “Stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”
“You think Ava put her in the ocean.” His expression turns fierce, his voice crackling with anger. “That would explain why she’s missing.” He slams his hands down on the desk. “You can’t let that bitch get away with killing Rebecca. You make her pay. You put her in jail.”
Shocked by this side of Ralph I’ve never seen, I nod. “We’re trying.”
“Good. And screw the press and their scandal. You keep your chin up. You’re a butterfly, Sara. Spread those wings and let them see your bitch colors if you have to.”
Laughter bubbles from my throat. “My bitch colors?”
“That’s right.”
“I love you, Ralph. I really do.”
He stands up and comes around the desk, wrapping me in a hug. “I love you, too.” He leans back and studies me. “You need to go home to your hot artist lover. I’m far enough along to finish my work at home now.”
“My hot artist lover will be happy to hear that,” I reply, barely containing more laughter. “He’ll be here soon. You go on home.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“I don’t have to be told twice.” He rushes to the doorway, pausing to give me an exaggerated wave. I’m still staring in his wake when Mark walks past my office door without a glance in my direction. Hoping this means Chris is soon to follow, I call him, listening to it ring five times before it goes to voice mail.
I punch in a text message to him and Jacob interrupts my useless staring at the screen, waiting for his reply, by poking his head in the door. “Kelvin’s going to escort Ralph home to protect him from the press. Anything on Amanda?”
“Yes, I just talked to her. The bottom line is that she was in over her head with Ryan, and embarrassed about it.”
“He didn’t hurt her, did he?”
“I didn’t get that impression. I knew she was in over her head and that’s why I tried to keep her away from Ryan. He knew it, too, and that’s what really upsets me. It’s like he wanted to upset her.”
“Or maybe he was sending Mark a message.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ryan knew Amanda for at least a year, and chose now, the most illogical time, to pursue her. He also knew Mark was counting on her here at work, and that a sex scandal would be highly unfavorable.”
“And Mark had shut him out,” I say, following where he’s going. A chill goes through me. “I have a very bad feeling about that man.”
“I think we all do—and we know he’s intimately involved with Ava. Have you heard from Chris, by chance?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Well, I’ll be up front if you need me. If you’re bored, you could try eating that pizza you never ate.”
My lips curve at his concern. “I’ll think about it.”
He gives me a look that makes me think he might insist, then leaves. Tapping my fingers on the desk, I stare at the painting of the roses on the floor, starting to feel irritated by how much it haunts me. I dial Chris again with no success. After ten more minutes, I’m officially getting worried. I decide to try David, but of course he’s with Chris, and doesn’t answer. I try Blake. No answer. Another ten minutes and I buzz Jacob, with no news.
My cell phone rings and I don’t even look at the caller ID. “Chris?”
“No, sorry. It’s Crystal.”
“Oh hi, Crystal. Is everything all right?”
“As okay as it can be, with the press suffocating us. I’m sure it’s a hundred times worse there.”
“I’ve been hiding from it. If you’re dealing with the press, I’m sure you’ve heard my name.”
“Yes, but I knew about Ava attacking you. Mark called me last night and told me the whole story. He wanted me to be prepared. But more than anything, he was worried about how his mom was going to deal with all of this, and he wanted to be here. Yet now he’s saying he’s not coming this weekend.”
“He told me a few hours ago that he was flying out tonight.”
“So you don’t know why he would make this decision?”
“No. I had no idea he’d changed his mind.”
“Sara,” she says, worry thickening her voice, “he told me he needs me to just handle it.”
“That doesn’t sound like Mark.”
“No, it doesn’t. That man doesn’t say ‘need’ to anyone, and he sure doesn’t say ‘handle it’ where Riptide and his mother are concerned. He didn’t sound good, and I’m not there to figure out why. Is there news on Rebecca?”
“I’m not certain. Chris is at the police station, and Mark just arrived back here at the gallery.”
“So he’s there with you?”
“He’s in the same building but I wouldn’t say he’s with me. He didn’t even speak to me when he came in.”
“Can you try to figure out what’s going on, and call me?”
“Yes. I will.”
“I know you’re going through hell, but it’s hard to be here with my hands tied. I have this family’s livelihood in my hands, and I’m terrified of letting them all down.”
“You won’t,” I assure her. She clearly cares for Mark, and I hope she doesn’t end up hurt. “Let me go talk to Mark. If I don’t call you right back, it’s because Chris and I are trying to get out of town to escape the press.”
“I understand. If you get the chance, please tell Mark his father knows what’s going on, but his mother doesn’t and we aren’t going to let her. We have a plan. I left him a voice mail to reassure him, but I have no idea if he’ll listen to it anytime soon.”
My phone beeps. “I will. That might be Chris calling, so I need to take this call.”
“Okay, ’bye, Sara.”
I quickly click at the sight of Chris’s number, only to have the line go dead. “No. No.” I dial him back and the call goes right to voice mail. My phone immediately rings again and it’s Jacob.
“Did you talk to Chris?” I ask. “He just tried to call.”
“Yes. He said to tell you he’s going to your apartment to get your bags, and then he’ll be here to pick you up. He’s with David and he’ll update you when he gets here.”
“Is everything all right?”
“You’re approved to leave town. That’s a good sign.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I have limited time to talk to Mark, so I push to my feet and head to his office. With a deep breath, I prepare myself and knock. And knock again. Frowning, I’m surprised to hear music coming from inside. That’s unlike the Mark I know. Whatever the case, I’m no
t sure he can hear me knock. So holding my breath, I open the door to the lion’s den.
“Say Something”
Say something, I’m giving up on you
I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you
Anywhere I would’ve followed you
Say something, I’m giving up on you
And I will swallow my pride
You’re the one that I love
And I’m saying goodbye
A Great Big World
Twenty
Cracking Mark’s office door, the searing lyrics I’d been playing on my phone two nights before when Mark abruptly left my office reaches my ears, warning me all is not well. In fact, I’m fairly certain something is very, very wrong. Easing inside, I see his empty desk.
Mark is sitting on the black leather couch to my right. His jacket is gone, his tie is loose, and he’s holding a glass of amber liquid, and still he manages to give me a superior stare. “Limits, Ms. McMillan,” he berates me. “Knock on the damn door.”
“I did knock. You didn’t hear.”
“That doesn’t constitute an invitation. I didn’t want to hear.” He refills his glass and I swear there is a slight tremble to his hand.
A swell of emotion fills my chest and I cross the room, stopping in front of the coffee table where his laptop, the source of the music, sits.
He downs another gulp and fixes me in a bloodshot stare that’s void of emotion. He says nothing and I think he might be waiting for me to say something, like the song says, but I could be wrong. Maybe he wants me to say nothing, because it’s not me he truly needs to speak to. It’s Rebecca.
“How are you?” I blurt out when I can take it no more.
“I’m fucking wonderful.” He refills his glass. “I had good news so it’s a good day.”
“What good news?”
“I’m cleared of Rebecca’s murder. So are you and Chris, but I’m sure he told you already.” He holds up the glass. “Celebratory drink?”
I can’t celebrate anything with the word murder attached. “I didn’t know you drank.”
“Only when my joy reaches a point of zero containment.”
The pain in his words is so bitter, I think it might make them crumble into tiny pieces and take his heart with them. I move forward and sit on the other end of the couch, angling toward him. “Did they clear Ryan?”
“Yes. Seems he’s got a rock-solid alibi.”
“Blake’s still trying to find a connection.”
He turns to face me. “You don’t know yet, do you?”
A tremor of unease goes through me. “Know what?”
He motions to the computer, and I turn it toward me and bring the screen to life. A news story fills it and I read, Police search the Muir Woods beachfront. “Oh God,” I whisper, and read the article in more depth. While police stay mum on the reason for the search, an insider says it’s related to missing local woman, Rebecca Mason.
The rest is a recap of the day’s hearing, and when I’m done reading I turn to Mark. “What else do you know?” His eyes collide with mine, and the torment in them is like a blade slicing through my heart.
“I have no idea,” he replies. “They aren’t telling me shit, and Tiger’s vicious reputation isn’t doing shit for me right now. They aren’t talking to him, either.”
“They arrested Corey today. He must have told them something.”
“Obviously. More good news, by the way. That ‘tell-all’ news story that was going to run tonight isn’t running. The police offered the newsperson an exclusive on something big coming soon, to hold it off.”
“Do you . . . do you think they found her?”
“No. I think she’s at the bottom of the fucking ocean, and they don’t have enough evidence yet to prove how she got there. And I don’t believe for a second that Ava pulled that off on her own.”
“You think Corey helped her?”
“He had some involvement. I’m not sure he’s smart enough to do it on his own.”
“Ryan?”
“Yeah. I think it’s Ryan.”
“Ava will give him up once she feels trapped.”
“That’s to be seen, I guess.” His voice lashes out at me, brutally sharp, angry even. “Why are you in my office?”
“Crystal called and—”
“I told you to let me handle Crystal.”
“Like you handled Ryan and Amanda?” It’s out before I can stop it. “He scared the crap out of her, and she ran home to her parents.”
“That’s probably the best thing that could have happened to her. Look what happened to Rebecca when she stayed. Look what happened to you.”
“Nothing has happened to me.”
“Hasn’t it?”
“No. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Who owns you, Sara?”
Adrenaline surges through me and I stand up. He follows me, his body too close. “Answer the question.”
“What are you trying to prove, Mark?”
“Friends don’t let friends make mistakes.” Suddenly I’m yanked against him as he adds, “Waking you up is doing you a favor.”
I flatten my hands on his chest to push him back. “Let go, Mark. You’re drunk.”
“I need you,” he murmurs. “You know that. That’s why you’re here.”
I shake my head. “Not in the way you—”
His hand goes to my hair, and now his mouth is near mine. “I’ve wondered how you would taste.” He dips in to kiss me, and my knee instantly lifts and lands hard in his groin.
He grunts, cursing under his breath, and lets go. I stumble backward and put the table between us.
“Really, Sara?” He sinks to the couch. “You had to fucking knee me? It was a kiss, not an act of war.”
“I told you to stop. You weren’t listening, because you’re drunk on more than booze. You’re drunk on pain and guilt.
“And I see what you were doing. If I had let that happen, then Chris and I would have been nothing, and love would mean nothing to you—which is what you want to believe right now. Because then you don’t have to deal with what you lost with Rebecca.
“But you have to deal with it, Mark. She’s gone. I hate saying that to you, but you have to stop denying the truth. Admit it, and admit that you loved her. She deserves that.”
He stares at me with unreadable eyes for several long moments. Then he reaches for the bottle and refills his glass, then just sits there, staring at the liquid inside.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I demand.
He downs his drink. “You’re saying enough for both of us. Go.”
I walk toward the open door, then turn and meet Mark’s eyes. “If his owning my heart and my body means I belong to Chris,” I say, “then I belong to him. I’m not afraid to admit that, because he’s worth the risk of getting hurt that comes with love.” I turn and leave, pulling the door shut, only to gasp as I nearly run into Chris.
He pulls me to him, framing my face, his mouth near mine, his heart thundering beneath my hand. “You heard,” I whisper.
“Every single word.” And then he is kissing me, and I sink into the taste of him, the taste of us, and it is good and right in ways nothing else in my life ever has been. When our lips finally break apart, our eyes connect, a million silent words passing between us.
He takes my hand in his and we start walking toward the exit, but suddenly I can’t just leave, knowing that Mark is in that room alone. Chris must feel the same because we both halt at the door, staring at it. I see his struggle in the tight lines of his body, the dip of his head between his shoulders.
God, I love this man. He is so much more than the paintbrush he masters with such incredible talent. So much more than his past, and his pain. I know even before he does that he can’t walk out of here and leave Mark like this, either.
He faces me, inhaling heavily and letting it out. “I’ll be back.”
I push to my toes and kiss him. “You are the most amaz
ing man I have ever known.”
“Don’t give me more credit than I deserve. I still may punch him, but I’ll give him an ice pack for the ride to Sonoma if he wants to come.”
I smile. “Kick him like I did. Safer for your hand.”
I exit into the gallery and decide a walk through his art might be exactly what I need. I seek out the Chris Merit sign and stare at the ten pieces of art arranged in a box shape, all visions of San Francisco through the eyes of the man who will soon be my husband. I walk to the center and sit down, shut my eyes, and let the memories flow.
That first night when I’d come to find Rebecca, during a Ricco Alvarez show. The way I’d helped an elderly couple pick out a Chris Merit picture, which earned me a job offer from Mark. Meeting Chris. Spilling my purse in front of him. I laugh with the memory, and suddenly Chris is squatting in front of me.
“What are you doing?”
“Remembering the ‘Man with One Red Shoe.’”
His lips quirk. “On the floor?”
“Yes, in the center of your universe.”
“Baby, we have a lot of world to see, and as soon as this mess passes, I intend to show it to you.” He stands up and pulls me to my feet. “The news story isn’t running after all. The police convinced them to hold off in exchange for a bigger exclusive when they’re ready to go public.”
“I heard that. But can’t Ava’s people just call another station?”
“My understanding is the police told the rest of the stations they’d get shut out completely if they didn’t wait.”
“I wish I could say that’s good, but it’s happening because bad news is coming.”
“Justice is coming,” he says. “The bad news came weeks ago.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Yes. But whatever they find on that beach is going to make it all feel very real.”
“Yes, it will. Let’s get out of here. Katie and Mike are eager to see us.”
“What about Mark?”
“He wants to stay close in case the beach search turns up any news.”
“I’m worried about him being here alone if they find something.”
“He won’t be. When I walked in, he was arranging a private jet to fly in company.”