would tell Jane the truth. Does this mean you’re not ready to do that?”
What truth?
“I can’t. Not yet. She wouldn’t understand. I have to wait … until certain things come to fruition. I need her in my life and without being able to explain fully just yet, I might lose her.”
“Remember, Asher, the longer you wait, the greater chance of you pushing Jane away when the truth comes out.”
“I’m protecting her.”
“Deliberately sabotaging her attempts to find evidence that may incriminate your father is protecting her?” The doc’s tone was neutral. No judgment.
Me? I was judging.
A grin crawled across my face.
“Whether you agree or disagree with Jane’s methods, you’re pretending to support her in her plans. You might not realize it, Asher, but this lie is causing you a great amount of stress. Considering this latest development, we need to find ways to reduce your stress.”
I’d stopped listening.
“Deliberately sabotaging her attempts to find evidence that may incriminate your father is protecting her?”
“Whether you agree or disagree with Jane’s methods, you’re pretending to support her in her plans.”
If Asher Steadman meant as much to Jane as I suspected he did, I’d just found something important to rip away from her.
21
JANE
It was almost too easy.
Well, it would have been if I hadn’t been worried Jamie would find out and blame Ivy.
Ivy Martin was our building manager and had been for thirty years.
Her office was across the hall from her apartment on the ground floor, and I had to wait for Jamie to leave his apartment until I could make my move. Standing by the peephole of my apartment door for hours was not a fun way to spend my Sunday afternoon, but I was determined to find some information that would put me ahead of Jamie’s plans.
He left around three o’clock, about four hours since he’d tormented me in the laundry room, and I waited until I saw him drive his Porsche out of his parking spot before going downstairs.
Sometimes Ivy wasn’t in her office on Sundays, but I was pleasantly surprised to see the door open and the building manager standing over her desk reading through some papers. Probably notes left by my neighbors on things they wanted fixed. It was an old building—the place kept Ivy busy.
I rapped my knuckles on the open door and Ivy glanced over at me.
In her midsixties, Ivy looked like a spry woman in her late forties. She told me it was the California sun, yoga, and drinking plenty of water that kept her looking young. It wasn’t often you came across a female building manager, but Ivy used to work with her dad in construction, so she learned skills across a variety of trades from the age of five. That woman could fix anything.
Turning her twinkling dark eyes on me, she lifted her chin in greeting.
“Margot, problem?”
I moved into the room and gave her a pained smile. “Ivy, I’m so sorry, but I locked myself out of my apartment when I went to the laundry room. Can you let me back in with your spare?”
“Of course, no problem.” She dropped the papers in her hand and moved to the locked cabinet where she kept the spare keys. I moved around her, so she was the one nearest to the door, and leaned into peer at the photos above her desk. “Is that you?” I pointed to a washed-out photo of a beautiful woman in an old-fashioned bikini, standing in front of a lake with her arms wrapped around a handsome guy in swim shorts. “And Mal?”
Mal was Ivy’s husband. He’d passed away two months after I moved into the building.
Ivy gave me a soft smile as she unlocked the cabinet, throwing the doors wide.
Thank you, Ivy.
“That’s my Mal. Our fifth anniversary at Lake Tahoe.”
“Good-looking couple,” I said.
“Thank you, doll. I was a very lucky woman. My Mal was even more gorgeous on the inside.”
My heart squeezed, feeling a prickle of envy and a sting of grief for her. I knew what it was like to lose the one you loved. Guilt accompanied those feelings.
Unfortunately, guilt didn’t stop me. As she unhooked my key off its hook, I jumped, pretending to be startled as I gaped at the open doorway. “Was that a dog?”
“What?” Ivy turned.
I snatched the keys next to the empty hook where mine had hung and hid my hand behind my back, the metal biting into my fingers. Sweat dampened my palms. “A dog. I just saw a dog run past.”