It seemed criminal that we hadn’t yet tried it out. Bridget was nearly three weeks old. I cornered Charli while she was brushing her teeth. “We can get some lunch, go for a walk along the waterfront and show Bridget the sights,” I pitched.
She saw through me in an instant. “This is about the pram, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes. “You want to test drive the pram.”
“Charlotte,” I put my hand to my heart, “you wound me. All I want to do is spend quality time with my girls on this beautiful Saturday and you accuse me of having an ulterior motive.”
“I’m on to you, Boy Wonder,” she retorted, waving her toothbrush at me through the mirror.
“Okay, yes. I want to try out the pram.” I badly mimicked her accent, and ended up sounding like my mother.
“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m driving.”
* * *
The big fancy stroller should’ve come with learner plates. We had no clue what we were doing, and the steering issues we had as we negotiated the steep Hobart streets made it obvious. With Charli at the helm, I had to make a grab for it more than once to stop our daughter from tumbling headfirst into the gutter.
“You push,” she finally told me, handing over control.
I didn’t complain. I was seriously fearful for Bridget’s safety at that point.
We walked so far that even I eventually began to relax. “See?” I marvelled. “We’re doing it. Awesome parenting.”
Charli laughed at my cockiness. “Keep your eyes on the road, Boy Wonder.”
We headed down a side street, circling back toward the car. The small street was lined with up-market stores and boutiques. Window shopping wasn’t usually Charli’s thing but something in a window caught her eye. She stopped in her tracks and I halted the stroller.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed at the window. “That’s my dress.”
“You want to buy it?” I asked, confused.
“No. I already own it. That’s my dress.”
I looked at the sign on window. Mila’s Vintage Haven was a recycling boutique.
“Maybe it’s just the same as your dress,” I suggested.
She was shaking her head before I’d got the words out. “It can’t be the same as mine. It can only be mine,” she insisted. “It’s vintage Oscar de le Renta. Even if there is more than one, it’s not likely to surface in the front window of a Hobart thrift store. It’s a two thousand dollar dress, Adam,” she said, glancing across at me. “Your mum bought it for me.” She started toward the door.
“Where are you going, Charli?”
“I’m going to ask them where they got it from.”
July 13
Charli
Adam somehow manoeuvred Bridget’s pram up the concrete steps and followed me inside. The woman behind the counter greeted us straight away.
“Can I help you?” she asked cheerily.
“Just looking, thanks.”
As soon as the saleswoman peeked into the pram, she forgot me.
“Ooh, what a beautiful baby,” she gushed.
“Thank you,” replied Adam, smiling at her.
She wasn’t the first woman he’d made weak at the knees. The gorgeous Décarie grin had been upgraded lately. He now possessed a killer dimpled smile plus a baby. It was a lethal combination.
Bridget and Adam were the perfect distraction. While the sales assistant was occupied with them, I pored through the racks of clothes.
I found six of my dresses. My mind started spinning in all sorts of ugly directions. I hadn’t even noticed they were missing. I’d stopped looking at them the day my waistline disappeared. No one needed that kind of torture.
I’d suspected that someone had been breaking into my house for months, and had convinced myself that it was Flynn. Common sense told me that Flynn Davis had nothing to do with it. He didn’t strike me a designer gown kind of guy.
“Excuse me,” I called, pulling her attention away from the blue-eyed duo near the counter. “Where did you get this dress?”
I fanned out the skirt of a pink James Galanos gown.
“Oh, that one’s lovely.” She used the same voice she had when gushing over Bridget. “It was actually brought into the store by a lady from Sandy Bay.”
Sandy Bay is one of Hobart’s more exclusive suburbs. Needless to say, I knew no one from Sandy Bay.
I glanced around the shop, noticing security cameras. It brought me a little hope. I stopped short of demanding to see the footage, deciding to play my cards close to my chest instead.
“She’s actually brought in quite a few dresses over the past few months,” she added, walking toward the rack nearest the window.
My heart sunk when she held up a black Balenciaga dress. “This one’s particularly exquisite.”
It was the dress I’d given Nicole.
Speaking took huge effort. “How much are you selling it for?”
She looked at the tag. “Fifteen hundred dollars.”
I shook my head sadly. “Just so you know, it’s worth twice that. It’s vintage Balenciaga.”
Our tiny baby began to stir, giving us an excuse to leave. We walked as far as a café a few doors down. Adam ordered coffee while I fed Bridget. When he returned, I filled him in on everything, ending with the obvious. “I’m fairly sure Nicole’s been stealing my dresses.”
* * *
We went home straight after our pit stop. It was a quiet journey. I had nothing to say, but I suspected Adam was fighting the urge to throw a big fat told-you-so out there.
He’d made no secret of the fact that he didn’t trust Nicole. I was the only fool who’d been prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt and I felt brutally angry that I’d wasted so much time defending her.
The cottage was calm and quiet. My thoughts were not. They were reserved entirely for my so-called best friend who’d spent months weaselling back into my good graces so she could rob me blind for a second time.
Adam settled Bridget into her bassinette and I slipped down to the spare room. I pushed my way through the stack of Adam’s boxes to get to mine.
As soon as I sat on the floor and opened the first one, my suspicions were confirmed. It was nearly empty. I couldn’t work out if I was angry or hurt. Tears won out.
Adam appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like such a fool,” I blubbered. “I can’t believe I let her screw me all over again.”
Adam pushed his way through the boxes, pulling me to my feet when I was in reach. “What do you want to do?” he asked quietly.
I could only think of one thing. It involved a trip next door and a massive slab of humble pie.
* * *
Understandably, Flynn wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me. He spoke to me through the screen door, refusing to invite me in – just as I’d done to him a hundred times before.
“How’s the baby?” he asked.
“She’s doing great.”
“That’s good news.”
“Please let me in, Flynn. I need to talk to you.”
He folded his arms tightly. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, especially given how you feel about me. Perhaps you should’ve brought someone with you to witness the conversation.”
I felt terrible. The hostility was more than warranted. I’d accused him of breaking into my home and tormenting me. I’d been vain enough to believe it was because the man had a crush on me. Clearly, Flynn Davis was over me, and had been for a while.
“Flynn, please. If you don’t want to let me in, perhaps you could come to our house and talk?”
He opened the door, enough to stick his head out and see Adam’s car on the driveway. It gave him confidence that there wasn’t anything underhanded going on. “Okay,” he relented.
The inside of Flynn’s house was ridiculously neat, much like the rest of him. Not one thing was out of place. Even the newspaper on the dining room table was perfectly square.
I sat at the table. Flynn sat opposite, looking as if we were about to begin a police interrogation. I guess we were.
He sat in silence while I told him everything I knew. “The store has security cameras. If we can get hold of that footage, I’m sure I’ll be able to nail her.”
He nodded. “I can certainly check. If it is Nicole, are you sure you want to pursue it?”
I’d never been surer of anything in my whole life.
“Collectively, those gowns are worth thousands of dollars. They’re couture. And it’s not the first time she’s stolen from me.”
Flynn stood up, opened a drawer on the sideboard and grabbed a notebook. He sat back down and spent the next half an hour taking notes.
“I’ll look into it,” he promised.
“Great. Thank you,” I breathed, relieved.
He walked me to the door.
As I stepped onto the porch, I took one last shot at apologising to him. “I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m a police officer, Charli. It’s my job to uphold the law, not stalk spoiled little princesses who live next door.”
I nodded but said nothing. The last word was his.
JULY 20
Adam
There was tension in my little household over the next week, and it pissed me off. Charli was on tenterhooks waiting for Flynn to come through with video evidence that Nicole was a traitorous thief. I didn’t need proof. As far as I was concerned, she was one of the most despicable people I knew, and I knew some despicable people.
Mercifully, she seemed to be steering clear of us. Perhaps she’d taken everything worth stealing.
Bridget seemed to pick up on the tension. She’d had an unsettled few days and Charlotte was at her wits end. We sat at the table, half-eating breakfast while we dealt with a cranky baby.
“I need you to make her to stop crying, Adam,” begged Charli, resting her elbows on the table and covering her ears.
“She’s okay,” I assured. “Just take a breath.”
“I have to cut my hair,” she babbled, confusing me.
“Is it a Samson and Delilah thing?” I teased. “Will Bridget lose her strength and stop crying if you cut your hair?”
She twisted her long blonde hair into a pile on top of her head. “I haven’t washed it in two days. I haven’t had time. I’m turning feral.”
I bounced the baby on my shoulder in a bid to settle her. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Creature?” she asked, eyes wide. “Like something out of a swamp?”
“No,” I amended, trying not to smile. “You’re lovely. End of story.”
She released her grip and her hair tumbled over her shoulders, proving that lovely was an inadequate description of her. “We’re married. You’re legally obligated to say that.”
“I don’t remember studying that particular section of family law, Charlotte.”
She stood to clear the table. “You must’ve missed it,” she replied. “It’s in there somewhere.”
Ordinarily getting a haircut would be trivial. But I wasn’t getting that vibe. Something told me that going with the first thought on this one might be a recipe for disaster. “Look, just think about it for a day or two,” I suggested. “Don’t rush into anything.”
She dumped the dishes in the sink. “I have thought about it. My hair grew five inches while I was pregnant. If I don’t like it short, I’ll just get pregnant again.” I couldn’t be sure she was joking. “Problem solved.”
That was as close as I’d ever come to dropping the baby. Bridget was not amused at my near slip. Her grizzling grew louder.
Charli came and draped a blanket over the baby. “You’re going to work on the bank today, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, glancing at my watch. “I’m having all of the new windows put in today.”
The look she gave me was very familiar. I guessed her question before she asked it. “Will you stay here with us instead?”
I’d been waiting a week for the glazier. I couldn’t progress any further until the windows were in. Putting it off would mean another week of waiting. It was the making of a costly and aggravating delay. “Yes,” I replied without hesitation.
I’d learned a few lessons on the way to becoming more like the man I wanted to be. My time was the most valuable thing I had to offer Charli and Bridget.
“What about the windows?” She was grinning as she said it. Charlotte didn’t give a damn about the windows.
“I’ll reschedule.”
“Have I told you how much I love you today?” she asked.
“No.” I grinned at her, ignoring my phone, which had started vibrating on the table. “Feel free to elaborate.”
She took Bridget from me. “Answer your phone first.”
I read the number and cancelled the call.
“You’re not going to take it?”
“It’s my father.” I hadn’t heard from him since he’d hung up on me. As far as I was concerned, that was the end of it. I wasn’t in the mood for another screaming match.
“You’re just going to ignore him?”
“He can’t have it both ways, Charli,” I pointed out. “He can’t cut us out of his life and then call me.”
“He’ll calm down, Adam,” she said quietly. “He’s just hurt.”
July 20
Charli
Jean-Luc’s decision to banish us from his kingdom had seemed like a rash decision to me. It was a prime example of what happens if you go with the first thought while angry and hurt. I wanted Adam to take his call on the off-chance that he’d calmed down and thought it through.
Adam tried to play it down, but it had rattled him. When he left the room, I grabbed his phone and scrolled through his endless contact list, searching for his father’s email address. It took forever. Adam knew a lot of people. My contact list consisted of ten numbers, and Alex was listed twice. I transferred the address to my phone, attached a few photos of Bridget and emailed them to her grandfather.
All I could do then was wait and hope that my meddling didn’t backfire.
* * *
Once Bridget settled, I reconsidered my plan of keeping Adam holed up with us. He didn’t exactly try talking me around. He was almost smiling as he pulled on his boots. “If you need me to come home, just call me,” he instructed. Adam pulled me into his arms and planted a firm kiss on my lips before making a bolt for freedom. He swung the front door open just as Flynn was about to knock. It was the first time I’d ever been pleased to see him.
“Are you on your way out?” asked Flynn. “I can come back later.”
I’d been waiting a week for him to get back to me about the theft of my dresses. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“No, stay,” Adam wisely replied, inviting him inside.
Flynn came bearing good news. He’d gone to the boutique and managed to get hold of the surveillance footage. As suspected, the well-to-do lady from Sandy Bay was none other than Nicole Lawson.
I was gutted but not surprised. My usual modus operandi would’ve involved plotting her demise in my head, but this time I wanted to see her receive a more traditional punishment. I was prepared to let Flynn handle it.
“So what happens now?” asked Adam.
“If you press charges, I’ll go and pick her up now,” replied Flynn.
I didn’t want him to arrest her at her mother’s house. There was only so much poor Carol could bear. She was going to have plenty of opportunity to be embarrassed and humiliated in the coming days.
“Can you pick her up here instead?” I asked. “I’ll call and see if she’ll come over tomorrow.”
Adam frowned, clearly unhappy with my plan. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Charlotte.”
“She’s not violent, Adam. She’s just a low-down dirty thief. I want to be there when she gets what’s coming to her.”
It wasn’t my usual game plan. My acts of revenge were usually car
ried out on the sly, and were so perfectly executed that there was no need to hang around to see the fallout. I’d decided to take a step back this time. Nicole was playing in the big leagues now. She deserved to be punished at the same level.
* * *
For once my lack of sleep had nothing to do with the baby. I lay awake for hours that night, unfairly weighed down by thoughts of Nicole’s epic betrayal.
Adam was fast asleep and perfectly still, which blew my mind. I’d only ever known him to toss and turn all night, no matter how exhausted he was. I spent a long time just staring at him, first to make sure he wasn’t dead, then to admire how freaking perfect he looked.
I’d gone through some huge changes lately but I’d had the benefit of time to get used to them. Boy Wonder’s life had spun in a completely new direction in a matter of weeks. Sometimes it was easy to forget that, mainly because he’d handled it so effortlessly. I no longer worried that his presence was temporary or coerced. Adam was calm, content, and sleeping peacefully for the first time in his life.
* * *
I felt no better by morning. Bridget was having another cranky episode. Perhaps she knew Nicole was on her way over.
I called her early, making up a lie about needing her to drop off some milk on her way to work. “I’d really appreciate it,” I told her. “It’s a mission to get the baby out of the house to go shopping.”
“No worries,” she replied. “I’ll let Alex know I’m going to be a bit late.”
A couple of years late with a bit of luck, I didn’t reply.
The next half hour dragged. I was in the kitchen making up a bottle while Adam paced the lounge with Bridget in his arms, trying to settle her – or at least to buy time until her bottle was ready. This charming domestic scene was ruined by the arrival of my ex BFF. She let herself in, which I found very ironic.
“Hey,” she greeted, making a beeline for Adam and Bridget. “Can I hold her?”
Adam glanced at me and I nodded stiffly. He reluctantly handed her the baby. Bridget kept crying and Nicole paced the room trying to calm her. It took all I had not to march over and rip her from her arms.