You’ve Been Warned

It occurs to me: maybe that’s the co

From me?

I feel dizzy. A rush of cold air hits me and I gasp, only to look over at the curtains and see them billowing. The window over the terrace has been open all this time.

A little shiver travels up through my spine and head, jarring my thoughts in an entirely new direction.

I know exactly what I have to do now.

Shoot Michael.

Chapter 54

CAREFULLY, I REMOVE THE LEICA from my shoulder bag, double-checking to make sure it’s loaded. My hands steady, I aim right for Michael’s head.

Don’t think, just shoot.

“Mommy!”

My head whips around. Oh, jeez, it’s Sean calling from his room.

“Mommy!” he yells again.

I look back at Michael and Penley. They’re waking up. Quick, hide!

I glance at my camera. No, wait. Snap a picture – then hide!

Sean calls out a third time, his little voice screeching like a siren. He not only sounds louder, he sounds closer. Is he out of his bed?

I drop to the floor in a panic. Ten feet away, over by the bathroom, is a small sitting area with a sofa.

I begin crawling toward it on my hands and knees.

I’m completely in the open now. If Penley gets out of bed, the only way she won’t see me is if she trips over me first.

That’s when I hear her mumble to Michael, half asleep. It seems she’s not going anywhere.

“Go see what he wants,” she says.

“He’s yelling for his mommy, ” he mumbles back.

“Then let him yell.”

Michael groans and pushes back the covers.

Oh no, he’s getting out of bed! Michael is going to see me in about two seconds.

The couch is still a few feet away. I scramble to hide behind it. The floorboards creak beneath the rug.

“What was that?” asks Michael.

Penley yawns. “What was what? ”

“That noise. Didn’t you hear? It sounded like it came from inside the room.”

I close my eyes. I’m toast.

“Mommy?”

I peek out around the sofa. Sean’s standing in the doorway now, his voice barely above a whisper.

I’m saved. At least for the moment.

Michael forgets all about the noise in the room. “Hey, what’s the matter, little buddy?” he asks.

“I had a bad dream. Dumba came again. Can I sleep in your bed?” Dumba is the monster who sometimes invades Sean’s dreams. Is Dumba maybe the monster who invades my dreams?

“Sure you can,” says Michael. He is a nice guy.

“No!” snaps Penley.

“Honey, give the kid a break, will you? He’s scared.”

“I don’t care. He needs to learn that he can’t always come ru

Michael bristles. “Yeah, and he also needs to learn algebra, but neither has to happen at age five.”

As terrified as I am to be stuck there, I can’t help thinking, Good one, Michael!

Not that Penley would ever be denied. “Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll give you a choice. If he sleeps in here, you don’t!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. You, Sean, and Dumba can go sleep somewhere else.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work, Penley.”

I hear Michael’s feet land on the floor with a resounding thud. His voice sweetens for Sean. “C’mon, buddy, you and I are sleeping in the guest room.”

And off they go.

Leaving me and Penley.

Chapter 55

FOR ONCE I DON’T wake up drenched in sweat and screaming from the dream. That’s because I never go to sleep that night.

No, I don’t hurt Penley, or even say boo to her in their bedroom. I hide behind the sofa, barely moving a muscle, for another hour until I’m convinced it’s safe to slip out undetected. Out of the apartment, that is.

Leaving the building is another story.

It’s a lot easier to sneak in than it is to sneak out. Hey, Adam, would you mind looking in the bathroom again for my purse?

I don’t think so.

So I hang out in the stairwell off the penthouse until morning. A new day, a new doorman – and if Louis pauses from his imaginary sword fight with Sean to ask why he didn’t see me come in, I’ll just joke about him going blind or having Alzheimer’s.

I try to sleep, Lord knows I’m exhausted enough, but concrete steps make for a lousy pillow. After an hour or so, I give up on the hope of catching any Z’s, choosing instead to plan in my head every detail of Michael’s and my honeymoon.

The Caribbean? Maybe the Bahamas and the One amp; Only Ocean Club? Venice and the Gritti Palace? The French Riviera?

All I know is that when we get back, Sean can sleep in our bed whenever he wants. In fact, maybe for our honeymoon we’ll take the kids to Disney World. Why not?

At about five-fifteen, I hear the first signs of life on the other side of the stairwell door. It’s Michael leaving for his office. Five-fifteen? That’s even earlier than usual. I suppose that’s what a night in the guest room will do to you.

At about a quarter to eight, it’s my turn. For the second day in a row, I’m early for work. If I keep it up, I might just get a raise!

I let myself into the apartment. Again.

“My, someone looks tired,” says Penley with an obnoxious grin as I greet her in the kitchen. “You must have had a late night.” Wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

It takes me a second to catch her drift. My blind date with Stephen seems like a week ago, or like it didn’t even happen.

“I want all the details,” she insists.

I’m too tired and in no mood, especially because there isn’t much to tell. “He was very nice,” I say.

Penley frowns, then she shakes her head. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Kristin.”

I thought as much. So I ply her with some mindless details about the di

Then she surprises me. “Yeah, Stephen pretty much felt the same way.”

“You spoke to him already?”

“Hope you don’t mind,” she says with a shrug. “He’s a friend, after all, and I was curious.”

I can see that.

She turns and pours herself another steaming cup of c-offee, which looks delicious, by the way. One day she might actually ask if I want one.

“You know, Stephen got the sense that you were already seeing someone.”

Thanks, pal!

“I tried to assure him I’m not,” I say. “It’s a little fu

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. Did you know she’s a married woman, by the way?”

Her eyes go wide. Apparently not.

“He neglected to mention that,” she says with a smirk. “I apologize.”

Penley? Apologizing?

“For what?” I ask.

“Thinking Stephen was right for you. I don’t approve of that sort of thing. He should know better,” she says, frowning. “Don’t you agree?”

Oh, the irony.