Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,17

me?

8

BEC

Two hours later, I ring Jess’s doorbell. The symphony of bells trills through the house before someone opens the door.

“Holy hell.” Rob whistles. “You look sensational.”

“Thank you.” On a whim, I’d gone into Kie&Kate Couture a couple of hours ago and let the store owner, Hailey, dress me. She picked a gorgeous hunter-green satin gown and even offered to do my makeup. I self-consciously pinch close the deep slit in the front.

“Want me to take Jackson?” Rob removes the diaper bag from my shoulder as I step into the foyer. The air-conditioning studs my skin.

“I’m good.” I swing Jackson to my other hip. “Is the nanny upstairs?”

“I’ll take you.”

I follow Rob. My fingers skid over the cool wood of the banister. My high heels click on the hardwood floors. Upstairs, the raucous noise disappears as we turn right toward the nursery.

“Candace, this is Rebecca,” Rob says. “And this big bundle is Jackson. Bec, we have another crib for him.”

“Great.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Rebecca,” Candace says.

Her palm finds mine and she gives it a firm pump. I run through what’s in Jackson’s diaper bag and tell her about his favorite stuffed animal—Eliot the Mouse—if he wakes.

I sweep a hand over his head and then hook my arm through Rob’s as we retreat toward the landing. Downstairs, the doorbell chimes, and I release Rob in the foyer. “Go be a host. I know where the kitchen is.” I wink at him and count my steps. Voices rise and cluster, and I attempt to get my bearings.

“Larry and his wife look like the typical corporate drones,” Jess narrates in a deep, steady voice behind me. Her lips almost tickle my right ear as she leans in. “His wife wears yellow—perfect for summer—and he’s in a charcoal blazer. Just in case you want to freak them the fuck out.”

“I’m still mad at you,” I say.

“Me? Why?” She deposits a champagne flute into my fist.

“Toby?”

“Who?”

“Officer Hot Pants. You sent him to my house after I asked you not to.”

“Oh.” She takes a swig. The bubbles foam and sizzle. “That.”

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

I cock my head toward Larry and his wife. “So who are they?”

“Head of the Elmhurst neighborhood watch. It’s a thing around here. Hey.” She nudges me. “Maybe you can talk to them about your house scare. Come on.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. I hate small talk, especially in crowds of people I don’t know—and I definitely don’t want to bring my recent string of mishaps into the conversation. I approach anyway, pass the glass to my left hand, and extend my right. Larry’s rough, calloused palm enters mine, and then his wife’s small, delicate one with a rock the size of an inflamed knuckle. I flash what I hope to be a dazzling, lipstick on tooth–free smile.

“My dear, this dress. You are an absolute vision,” Caroline says. “I’d ask you to spin, but that seems inappropriate. Larry, isn’t she a knockout?”

Larry clears his throat and resumes chatting with another neighbor, Bruce. Caroline engages me about the dress, how I’m enjoying Elmhurst, and my days as a cello player. “And you’re a new mother too? Are you getting any sleep at all?”

If she only knew. My laugh says it all.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She squeezes my hand. “It gets so much better. I promise.”

She doesn’t know I’m a widow, or that I’m on my own, but I cling to her words like some sort of promise. Things will get better. They have to.

“What gets better?” Jess asks.

“Sleeping,” I say. “Caroline assures me that one day I will sleep again.”

Jess snorts. “That’s not the worst of it. Tell them about what’s been happening.”

I shoot her a warning look.

“What’s been happening?” Caroline asks.

“Nothing. I think my sleep deprivation is just getting the best of me.”

“She thought someone broke into her house. Twice. Wait, no. First, you thought you were being followed to the park, then you heard footsteps on the baby monitor while you were in the bath, of all things. And doors have been unlocked when they should have been locked too, right? Oh, and then her son’s playpen was moved. I think it’s a ghost.”

“My dear.” Caroline grips my wrist. “Larry, are you hearing this? We can offer you some extra protection or set up a specific neighborhood watch if you need it?”

“We called the police and Officer Hot Pants came by,” Jess explains.

“Officer Toby,” I correct. I realize I don’t even know his last