Page 61

SAVIOR

VANESSA

V anessa was on the floor of the living room in what had become her usual spot over the last few weeks, staring at the flickering candle before her on the coffee table.

Marcie’s freedom candles gave off an earthy, piney scent that permeated the entire room.

One on the coffee table, another on the side table next to Belle’s picture, a third on the mantle.

It seemed they were working their magic, because days after she’d told his wealthiest client to shut the fuck up, Mancini had called her into his office and gently let her go.

That was okay. She’d been expecting it, almost hoping for it in that weak-ass backdoor “let someone else do this so it’s not me” way that was apparently becoming her M.O.

The trial had commenced without her as scheduled.

Sandy had been calling with insider updates, which had been entertaining in a gruesome way.

Even without Sandy passing her little cups of tea, the reporters covering the trial had been just as happy to inform the public that Claremore had bombed his performance before the jury.

That even his peers in the “gentlemen’s class” saw right through his bullshit to the rancid inner core.

They thought the Spallini video would seal the deal. Predictably, Mancini had dangled an imminent promotion in front of Jace, who stayed on but gave a decidedly half-assed, lackluster performance.

Despite all of that, despite all the evidence, the bravery of the witnesses, the links to the associates, later that week, on a Thursday, the jury was barely out five hours when they voted to acquit.

That should have been an “all’s well that ends well” for him, but no. Being the arrogant asshole he was, Claremore had wasted no time filing a complaint against her personally with the state bar association to get her license revoked. Lack of competence, neglect, unwilling to kiss ass, etcetera.

That, plus the never-ending second-guessing about Santino and whether she’d handled that situation right would have been enough.

He hadn’t called. She hadn’t called.

But this morning, her stomach had cramped, sending little licks of pain shooting through her pelvis followed by a wet sensation between her legs.

Sure enough, it was her period. She’d been late a little over a week.

She was going to give it another few days to test, even though her tracker indicated she most likely hadn’t been ovulating when she was with Santino. But she’d hoped… hoped …

But there it was. Another one of her backdoors shutting in her face. There’d be no calling Santino and telling him they’d created something wonderful together, something that would bind them for the rest of their days and so, of course, they had to stay together.

She’d cried in the bathroom for about an hour.

Now she was on the living room floor, staring at fucking wax melting, as though it could tell her what to do next.

The phone rang. It was Bobby. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

“I’m at Mom’s hanging out with Evvie. Zoe’s been out for a few hours now and I’m just about to head back to Norton’s.

” He paused, then said, “I saw Santino earlier today, at the park. He signed, Van. You’ll most likely receive the paperwork within the week.

I thought you should hear it from me rather than your lawyer or getting blindsided by a service, however they do it. ”

The kick to the gut was swift and went deep. Good thing she was already sitting. Everything in her weakened.

“Van, what the hell is going on? I thought you guys were just on a little break.” At her silence, Bobby asked, “Vanessa, are you there?” He sighed when she didn’t —couldn’t answer. “I’m coming over. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Be there in thirty-five.” He hung up.

Stunned, she’d barely noticed the tears rolling down her face while she sat there with the phone still in her hand on her thigh.

The room stretched and contracted, becoming one giant funhouse full of trick mirrors.

The lack of sound was absolute. No birds calling outside, no loud music from the tween boy next door.

No people, no noise at all. Even her own heartbeat was silent, as though it had finally given up and ceased to beat.

He didn’t wait for her. He didn’t wait.

Low wasn’t the word for this. She was sinking, fast.

She got to her feet and stumbled to the kitchen.

Then she snatched a bottle of the D’Alessio Sangiovese from 1967 from the wine fridge, the priciest of the family’s stock.

This was a special occasion. After all, it wasn’t every day that a prophecy was self-fulfilled.

Vanessa poured herself a huge honking glass and took it right back to the living room floor to the seat of honor. Drained it. Poured another.

When someone knocked on the front door, she roused from her stupor.

It couldn’t be Bobby; he’d just left Chappaqua and wouldn’t have gotten there that quickly even if he’d broken the speed limit.

Besides that, he had a spare set of keys to her house and knew the security code.

Vanessa got to her feet, and went to answer the polite knock.

She opened it without looking through the peephole or asking, “Who?” the way she’d used to back when she’d lived in the city. That old habit hasn’t lasted long out here. But she was fucking sorry she hadn’t looked or asked when she saw who was on the other side of that door.

Vanessa spluttered a crazed laugh while Antoinette returned a tentative smile. “Whoever runs the universe is really funny. You know what? Come on in.”

Still laughing, she stepped aside while Antoinette entered, walking into the living room and looking around at the disorder.

Had Vanessa let the house go a little bit?

Yeah, so what. She was at least not in the robe, although the Panthro concert tee and skanky cutoff booty shorts were not couture like Antoinette’s dress and flats.

“You’re shorter in person,” Vanessa remarked, folding her arms and giving the other woman the once over.

“You’re just as pretty as the pictures Santino showed me,” Antoinette said with a nervous smile. “Would he happen to be home? I stopped in at his job, but he wasn’t there.”

“Oh, right. You think he still lives here. Nnnope. He’s got a place not too far from here, at least for now. We’re getting a divorce. Got a divorce.” Vanessa spun in a circle, then gave her gun fingers like she was playing cowboy. “Today.”

Antoinette’s lush pink mouth formed a surprised “O” at that little move and the news as Vanessa studied her face.

She’d looked straight up Italian in her pictures, but in person, she did favor her Black mom in features while having her Sicilian father’s coloring.

Her eyes were so dark they appeared black.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Antoinette finally said.

“The divorce is recent, but the split happened when he took you to Aruba. Aruuuuubaaa, to the resort where he and I got married. So, it’s kinda fitting that you should show up today. You were there for the beginning of the end and now you’re back for the ending of the end. If that makes sense.”

Vanessa laughed while Antoinette clutched her cute Gucci purse a little tighter, staring at her warily. Her eyes fell on the partially empty wineglass on the coffee table.

“Hittin’ the booze a little early on a boring afternoon? Been there.” Antoinette gave a nervous laugh and edged further away to the other side of the room.

A big grin creased Vanessa’s face, so wide it hurt the corners of her mouth and strained her cheeks. “Great. What did you want to see him about? Wait, no, don’t answer that. What Santino does now is absolutely none of my business. But does your husband know you’re here right now?”

Antoinette blushed at the question. “He’s currently out of town on business, so I thought now would be a good time to come check in on Tino and see how he’s doing, that’s all.

I haven’t stopped feeling badly about the last time I spoke to him, after everything he did for me.

He was furious with me. I haven’t been able to reach him since.

You know he was my best friend.” Antoinette put her hand to her throat, swallowing hard.

“Would you happen to have anything to drink? Water. Please.”

This woman claiming Santino as her best friend caused a jagged hole to rip Vanessa’s already tattered heart into even tinier pieces.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, the social graces. Wait right here. Anything for Antoinette. I’ll even make sure it’s in one of the good glasses.

” From the kitchen, she shouted to her guest while she poured some water.

“He did say you went back with your husband. Was he cool with you and Santino’s ‘best buddies only’ trip or nah? ”

Antoinette was flushing when Vanessa returned with her water and handed it to her. She took the glass and drank quickly, a drop spilling from her lips.

“Not happy at the time, no. But we worked it out once I convinced him I was telling the truth and Santino was just a friend who helped me. We never…” The color deepened in her cheeks, and she put the glass down half-finished on a table.

The water in the glass shimmered. It conjured images of Santino’s unfinished drinks in every room and Vanessa swallowed down her own onslaught of tears at the memory. Such a small thing. One of a thousand tiny knives cutting away at them, tearing through the fabric of them.

“Santino said that, too. He said you guys never did it, not in high school or after.”

The other woman nodded. “That was the truth. Not even close. I mean, he was one of the hottest guys in our neighborhood, but I really did think of him as my best friend. He wasn’t the one, and I knew it.”

For what it was worth, Vanessa did find it gratifying to finally hear confirmation of that from the only other person who would know. Despite that, she smirked.