Page 83 of Shameless Vows

“I don’t think it sounds crazy, Isla,” Malachi says after another beat of silence. “I don’t know what it means, but I don’t think it’s crazy. I do think you should discuss it with your therapist. I hope you begin meeting with her soon.”

“I am. My first appointment is next week. I’ll be going twice a week to start.”

“That’s good,” he says, still low and quiet, andthat voice. Something in me wants tocry, and that makes me feel crazier than the rest of it.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for bothering you this late. I dialed without thinking.”

“I’m not,” he says simply. “You can call me at any time, for any reason.”

I nod, and then I have to press my lips together as a feeling of anguish wraps tightly around my lungs. “Thank you. Uh, I hope you’re…” I say through a blatantly fragile voice that I know he can hear, “doing well.”

“I am.” He pauses. “I read your manuscript.”

I close my eyes as mortification surges through me and lights my cheeks on fire. “You did?”

“I did. I really enjoyed it. You’re a very gifted writer, Isla. It was a beautiful story. A very sad one, but sad in a beautiful way.”

“Yeah.” My voice squeaks as a tear slides out of the corner of my eye. “I’m sorry, Malachi.”

I don’t need to clarify what I’m sorry for, and he knows it, and he responds with a simple, quieter, “I’m sorry, too.”

“I know.” I sniff and wipe my face. “I’m going to let you go now.”You already let him go, my mind hisses at me, and I push the thought away. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.” He pauses for so long that I open my mouth to say goodbye, but then he speaks again. “Darling.”

The simple term of endearment with the deep, rich timbre of his voice is kryptonite, and I melt against the bed. “Yeah?”

“Uh,” he says with sudden, slight sheepishness, “I probably shouldn’t call you that, but—”

I fight the smile that tugs one corner of my mouth. “It’s okay.”

“I was going to say,” he hastily goes on, “I don’t think you should dismiss any of the feelings you have about that information as crazy. I think you should pay attention to them, because it’s entirely possible that, on some level, youknow, but your mind can’t reconcile any of it yet. I think it’s your mind fighting to recall everything. You should keep thinking about it and talking about it, because that might enable you to continue to peel back those layers and eventually recollect the information.”

Hope blooms in my aching chest. “You do?”

“I do.” There’s a barely audible, listless exhale on his end. “Talk about it with your therapist. And good luck with the therapy and… you know… everything.”

I nod. “Thank you, Malachi. I—”

I snap my mouth shut, because the words I was about to utter have no place in this relationship anymore, because—again—thereis norelationship.

Instead, I offer a polite, “I hope you get some sleep.”

“Thank you, Isla.”

I end the call without saying anything else. All of it is way too treacherous and feels like I’ve grabbed a thread on an old sweater and started pulling it, and if I don’t stop, the entire thing will unravel.

And I’m suddenly not sure why that would be such a bad thing.

EIGHTEEN

MALACHI

Present

“WELL…” VINNIE PASQUINO, THE seedy PI, rasps over the phone, then hacks a smoker’s cough. “If your plan was to throw ‘em off her trail, it seems like it worked, ‘cuz they’re still over there.”

I chew the side of my thumbnail as I pace the length of my office maniacally. “How sure are you that none of them followed her?”