The Perfect Woman - Nicole French Page 0,142

something inside me opened up. More keys turned in the secret locks that had been closed my entire life. This wasn’t about sex; it was about truth. Compassion. Love.

A tear trickled down my cheek, followed by another. Then another.

“Baby,” Matthew whispered as he gathered me close again. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s silly,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I haven’t thought of it in years. But at the time, I was so crushed. I—I wanted so badly to give her s-something, you know? And I couldn’t. I couldn’t…”

“You gave her a lot, Nina. You gave her all the opportunity in the world. You kept her safe.”

“I tried,” I said sadly. “But I never gave her what I wanted. Never a home. And how could I? I never had one myself.”

“You could have done it. You still can.” He brushed the hair out of my eyes and continued to stroke my cheek, wiping away a few more errant tears.

“I went from my mother’s to my grandmother’s and back, these great, formal houses full of priceless antiques and immaculate surfaces. They groomed me and dressed me like I was just another fixture. I think that was why they made me stop feeding her, you know. Too messy.” I sighed. “But I also think that was when I really wanted out. Not just of my marriage, but of all of it. So I decided to go back to school, bought the house, had the papers drawn up.”

“So, what happened?”

I swallowed. “Well, you know what happened. Giuseppe died, Matthew. I had no reason to go back to Italy then.”

“But the rest? The house? School? You let it all go. For what?” His tone sharpened slightly—out of anger on my behalf, I thought.

I shrugged. “I was scared.”

“Because you thought they killed him.”

I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I was taken back to that terrible day in Calvin’s office. “Because I didn’t know what else they might do.”

Matthew remained quiet for a long time, holding me gently, brushing back my hair until both of us gradually dozed off in our lovers embrace. A temporary shelter for the rest of the night, but the best one I’d ever had.

When I awoke again, it was still dark outside. But Matthew wasn’t beside me any longer, instead he was sitting on the edge of the bed, broad back facing me, elbows perched on his knees, clearly in deep thought.

“Matthew?” I asked. “Are you—is everything okay?”

He turned around but remained where he was. His eyes looked hollow and worried. “This can’t wait until morning. I thought it could…but it can’t. Nina, I need to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth.”

I sat up too, clutching the sheets to my chest. “Okay…”

“Is the name Katarina Csaszar familiar to you?”

I frowned. “I already answered that question last week, Matthew. Why, who is she?”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure? Never a Kate or a Katie? Nothing similar?”

I tipped my head as something occurred to me. “Well, the woman who answered the door mentioned a Kate, like I told you. Was she talking about this Katarina?”

Again, he didn’t answer. Just pressed on. “How about Károly Kertész?”

I couldn’t have said why, but something about the name sent a shiver running through me, like someone had run a wet finger down my back in the middle of a snowstorm.

I gripped the sheets harder. “Matthew, what is going on? Who are these people?”

Again, he didn’t answer my question. Instead, he just shook his head back and forth and rubbed his face hard.

“It doesn’t make any fucking sense,” he muttered as he got up to get some water, but not before he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and took it with him.

“Matthew,” I called after him. “What’s wrong? Who is Károly Ker-Kertész?” I stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation.

My answer was the door shutting behind him. But instead of following, I remained in bed, content to ruminate. The names sounded vaguely Eastern European. Did they have anything to do with the people in my house?

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. The small clock next to it read sometime past one in the morning.

“What in the world…” I murmured.

Caitlyn: Drinks this week? I miss you.

I frowned at the text. I wasn’t sure why she had been so friendly lately, and now that I was away from New York, I wasn’t sure I cared enough to rehabilitate this relationship. Certainly not at one a.m. I thirsted for friendships, for a life

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