Page 4 of The Night

I hesitated. “I have some forms I need to get signed for my attorney.”

She frowned. “What kind of forms?”

“Hmmm, how aboutthe kind that are grown-up business?”I was starting to feel a bit queasy as we got closer to O’Leary… which was stupid, really. This was gonna be easy-peasy.

A two-minute job. A scribble on a piece of paper to cancel out another scribble on another piece of paper.

A task I should have completed years ago, and one that would never have had to be done in the first place, if I hadn’t been an absolutesuckerfor a sexy smile, a deep voice, laughing golden-brown eyes, and an instant spark of connection that couldn’t possibly have beenhalfas soul-meltingly meaningful as I’d thought at the time.

A chore I wouldn’t have to donow, if the things that happened one night in Vegas everreallystayed in Vegas.

Who could a guy sue for false advertising? Asking for a friend.

I cleared my throat. “Besides, I thought it would be fun to take a road trip together. Are you saying you wish I’d left you with Mrs. Boudreauxovernight?”

“Maybe! Now that I know she’s yourperfect girlfriend, maybe I could have made her fall inlooooovewith you!”

“Wow, yes, and then she could move in with us forever, and I would totally put her in charge of screen time. Isn’t she allergic to cats, Bug? You’re so selfless to give all that up for the sake of my true love!”

Hazel mock pouted. “You’re mean.”

“I know,” I sang.

“Can we put up our Christmas tree this weekend? Can it be arealtree this year?”

I sighed. The small, fake tree in our storage unit got sadder and more dilapidated every year, but also…

“How many times have I explained that our landlord doesn’t allow real trees, Bug? But yes, we can put up our tree.”

“And buy a new ornament for this year too?”

“Sure.”

“And I can pick it out?”

“Absolutely, you can.”

I slowed down to take a gander at the sleepy little town. O’Leary’s center appeared to be one wide street lined with slanted parking spaces. On both sides, brick and white clapboard storefronts were already decked out for the holidays, and adults and children alike stood chatting in merry little groups before them.

“This town looks… odd,” I said aloud, looking at a lit-up train display in the window of a hardware store. It was like the town had transported itself in time from 1950-something, and only the cars and the people were new.Oh. And the rainbow pride flag hanging out in front of one of the stores. That too.

“This town looksfun,” Hazel corrected, leaning forward to get a better look out the window. “Like a carnival. Look at all the Christmas decorations! And look at that girl’s coat! I wouldtreasurea coat with purple sparkles beyondanythingin theentireworld.And—” Hazel let out a blood-curdling scream. “Oh my God, Daddy! Stop the car! Stop the car right now!”

I pressed my foot all the way down on the brake, coming to a screeching halt in the center of the street that had the Volvo rocking back on its rear wheels. “What?” I demanded, shifting into Park and unbuckling my belt. “Are you okay, baby? Did you hurt yourself? Did you—”

“There’s a bakery right there!”Hazel bounced up and down in her seat, curls shimmying as she pointed excitedly out the window. “Bakeries sellcookies!”

“Are you…Christ alive, are youkiddingme? For heaven’s sake, I thought you were dying, Hazel!” I clapped a hand to my heart, which was about to beat out of my chest, and scowled at the face in the mirror.

“But Iam,” she said solemnly. “I amdyingforcookies! Please can we go? Please?”

I checked the GPS again. The address I’d found on Google earlier this week was about a half mile down the road, and it was already mid-afternoon. If I wanted to get back to Syracuse by bedtime, I had to finish my business here by six at the latest. And if he wasn’t home, or if the address was wrong and I had to ask around, it could take a while to—

“Youpromised, Daddy.”

“Oh, fine.” I swung into a parking spot outside a quaint-looking little bakery calledFanaille. “Onecookie. And no more screaming, Hazel Grace. Got it?”

“Got it,” Hazel promised, staring out the windshield at the bakery with shining eyes, like she had seen the Promised Land and found it was made of sugar.