I’ve been to the health department since I can’t afford to see a doctor anywhere else. They gave me some prenatal vitamins and a prescription for some pills to help my nausea when it is too much to handle. Thankfully those days are finally behind me even though I still throw up every day.
I’m beginning to suspect that it is as much about stress as it is pregnancy. Daily I question my decision to leave Xavier. Time and distance have made me start to wonder if I overreacted. If maybe I should have confronted him. Asked why he carried me to his bed and held me all night, only to leave before morning so that we never saw each other during our days. Before our wedding, I ran into him everywhere, in the cafe, on the casino floor, on the street while I waited for a bus or an Uber. He was literally everywhere- until I became his wife. Then he ghosted me.
I usually work with Francesca, but she wasn’t at work when I arrived. She called in at the beginning of our shift, which is supposed to be a double, and said she had an emergency and won’t be in. Most likely not for the next few days, if not longer. This isn’t the best place to work, but having her here makes it better. She took me under her wing on my first day, and she has never pushed for my story. No one who works here talks about their past. We all just come here and do what we are paid for. Some of us do a lot less than others. Francesca and I being in the minority since we don’t also work at the strip joint across the highway.
Compared to what I have picked up from some of the other women working here, my story is a cakewalk. I’m sure they would all think that I’m foolish for being here willingly. Sometimes, hearing snippets of their stories of abuse and addiction, I feel guilty for running away from Xavier. He didn’t mistreat me. He just fucked me harder than I was ready for, and made me feel things that I didn’t know how to handle. I still don’t think I’m ready for that kind of intensity, but I do feel foolish for running away.
With Francesca gone, it will probably just be me working the morning shift for a while. Mornings are not the most sought after hours for most of the gals who work this particular diner. Most aren't here for the waitressing tips. They are more interested in making contacts so they can turn tricks in the parking lot during their breaks, or before they cross the highway to the rundown strip club.
That's another reason Francesca and I are kind of friends. Neither of us wants anything to do with those activities, and since we usually end up working together, we have developed a sort of safety in numbers mentality. My first day on the job here was eye opening. I had no clue how sheltered I had been by the Cerelli's arranging my employment. I had no idea that places like this even existed outside of movies. Not until the day I walked in, desperate for a job that wouldn’t require me to reveal my identity by filling out paperwork or doing a background check.
I got what I was looking for and a whole lot of knowledge that I didn’t expect when I got the job.
Today has actually been a slow day, which isn’t completely unusual in the middle of the week. Another reason why I volunteer to do doubles sometimes twice the hours means twice the pay even when the tips aren’t that great. When the door opens, and the old bell over it clangs its jarring tune, I'm quick to look up from my stool behind the cash register. It's not someone I have ever seen before. A lot of our customers are regulars. The stranger kind of reminds me of the guy who plays Thor in the movies. I always thought he was pretty hot, but even so, he doesn't hold a candle to Xavier, neither does this man. Much to my everlasting dismay. Why is it that no one but him can cause my hormones to stand at attention?
The blond giant beelines straight toward me, his face a mask of grim seriousness. “Excuse me miss,” He says politely as he holds out his phone, showing me a grainy photograph. “Is there any chance that you know this woman?” He hands it to me and of course, I recognize Francesca immediately.
“Why do you ask?” I know I'm being cagey, and that my question pretty much shows that I do know her, but I'm not about to openly blow her cover if I can help it.
He explains to me that his name is Travis Keller and that he has known Faye, not Francesca since she was a little girl. He has been looking for her for years now. He needs to find her because she witnessed a murder, and there might be some bad people after her. I know all about bad men and the things that they do.
The man, Travis, owns some kind of security and investigations company and gives me his business card as proof. I look it over and tuck it into my pocket. It never hurts to know a private investigator. I remember Francesca… no, Faye... telling me once about her childhood friend Travis. It was the only time that she ever opened up to me at all about anything personal. It was the day that I couldn’t hide my morning sickness anymore and tearfully told her that I was pregnant. The love that shone in her eyes when she said his name is what comes to mind and makes me feel as if it’s ok to tell him the little bit that I know. I don’t think she would mind me telling him about her. Sighing I nod my head and hand back his phone.
“She’s going by the name Francesca Andrews now. I didn’t even suspect that it isn’t her real name. I think she has been working here for about three years. I've only been here for five months. I don't know how she stands it. It’s terrible here.” Once I start talking, I can’t stop myself as I gesture toward the parking lot and the strip club across the way, ”Franc… Faye!” I correct myself. “Is the only one who works here, besides me, who just serves food.”
The words continue to tumble out, “She's my only friend here.” His eyes are gentle and kind as he listens, and asks a few questions that I don’t know the answers to, before thanking me for my time and turning to leave. I hope he finds her. I truly do.
He's about halfway to the door when I call out after him, “Just find her and keep her safe.” He stops mid-stride and turns back toward me as he reaches into his pocket and returns to where I remain perched on my high stool.
“For your time and help,” he says, handing me a folded bill. “My job is keeping people safe, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” I smile gratefully. It's good to know that there is someone I can call if I need to, other than calling my dad… or Xavier. It’s been a long time since I had anyone I thought I might be able to trust.
“Thank you,” I whisper at his retreating back. He’s in the parking lot before I look at the money crumpled in my hand. He gave me a hundred dollars!!! Smiling to myself, I tuck the cash into the bottom of my apron pocket. I feel good about today for the first time. I don't have to worry about Faye. I have faith that Travis will find her. She deserves a happy ending.
Now I have to figure out how to rescue myself from the mess I made and find mine.
Chapter Six
Xavier
Five months! Five. Mother. Fucking. Months. Without a fucking word, without a single fucking lead. Before she ran away, not a day in the previous five years had gone by that I hadn’t at least seen her. Even if it was from a distance. The not knowing if she is okay or not is killing me, not that I would let anyone know it. I haven’t even talked to Grayson about it. I've been keeping my feelings locked down tighter than Fort Knox, only letting them out in our bedroom late at night when I finally am in our bed. Alone.
The sheets don't smell of her anymore, and I know it's disgusting and fucked up, but I haven't been able to bring myself to let Margot in to change them. It’s not as if I actually sleep in here anyway. I just keep hoping that the next time I hug her pillow, I will be able to smell her again. I’m pathetic and desperate. If I had known that losing her would destroy me this way, I would have never let her out of my sight for even a minute. Nothing has wrecked me like this since I lost my mother. I don't know how much longer I can take this. Slipping between the cool sheets, I rest my cheek against her pillow and finally succumb to the tears I’ve been holding back since I did the same thing last night.
After exhausting my grief, I roll out of the bed. I need to get some sleep, and the sofa in my office downstairs works fine. Analise never spent anytime there, so it’s the only refuge I have from her presence. Plus, it’s convenient since there is always work to do.
Working allows me to slam the door viciously on my thoughts of Analise, so I get down to it. There's money to be made, and I need to finalize the purchase of the little boutique space adjacent to my building. She
will be coming back. I refuse to entertain any other belief. I’m nowhere near finished with my wife. I just have to find her so that she knows it as well as I do. All I need to do is find her, and for once in my life open up, and tell her how I feel about her. Hopefully, she feels the same about me. I’d prefer to think that she does, but if she still doesn’t want me after I spill my guts… well, I don’t actually know if I will be able to accept that outcome. Pushing that probability out of my mind I force myself to focus on the present. I will deal with what I will do if she doesn’t want to come home if it happens.
After finally sleeping, I still wake before the sun comes up and go for a run. When I return, hot and sweaty, but feeling somewhat better I hurry to shower and settle back in at my desk to check my emails. There is one from a Keller and Stone Securities up in Washington, offering their assistance in locating Analise. I have no idea how a security firm up north has any idea that my wife is missing. I may be trying to keep my life and businesses free from the entanglements that come with being part of the Cerelli family, but that would not matter to my father’s enemies. They would not hesitate to take advantage of knowing she is alone and unprotected, so I have kept her disappearance quiet.
The email from Blake Stone, co-owner of the firm, is brief and to the point. They have a client who needs protection from the Cerelli family, and they are willing to make a trade. Their resources applied to my search for Analise, and in return, I guarantee protection for this unknown client. Sounds like a good trade to me, especially since I don’t know of anyone who my family is actively searching for. I may be out of the loop when it comes to how they are making their money, but my uncle Dominic always makes sure that I know if there is someone he is looking for or doesn’t want me to do business with. This should be an easy thing to arrange and no conflict for me to agree to.
Not wanting to appear too eager to make the deal, I spend the remainder of my morning settling my other business. I don’t have any meetings this afternoon, so calling Gray to meet me, I take a late lunch and fill him in on the offer. He knows everything I do about the family business, even though his last name isn’t Cerelli he has always been in the same loop as me. I suspect that’s because he is family, even if I’m not exactly sure how. I have my suspicions though.
After talking to Gray about bringing someone from outside of the family in on this situation, I’m ready to make the call. We agree that fresh eyes that have no association with anyone named Cerelli can’t hurt. Plus, no one would ever expect me to use an outside investigator for anything. We always do our own work. Neither of us can see a negative side to the trade, so I go back to my apartment and dial the number included in the email.
The other end rings only twice before a gruff voice answers, “Keller and Stone Securities. Travis speaking.”