The Sinner (Notorious 1)

Katie laughed and even Savannah had to smile.

“Vanessa couldn’t breast-feed,” Margot said. “You wouldn’t latch, stubborn little thing. She tried, but you wanted nothing to do with her.”

Savannah’s face crumpled slightly as if bending under the weight she was trying to hold up.

“So I fed you with a bottle,” Margot said. “So little in my arms—nothing but eyelashes and temper—that was you. I held you in my arms and you blinked open those big blurry eyes and shook your little fists at me. And then you focused. On me. You grabbed my finger. Mine.” Margot’s voice broke and her trembling hands pressed against her chest. “I loved you so much I could barely stand it, and I promised you that first night, walking the hallways of that hospital with you in my arms, I promised I would do what I had to do to keep you safe.”

I held my breath, hoping against hope that Savannah could forgive Margot for making the choices she’d made.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the money?” Savannah asked.

“I didn’t know how,” Margot said. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to explain what I knew about your mother. That this was the only way I could think of to keep you all safe.”

“When did you stop?” Savannah asked.

“Stop? I haven’t.”

“What?” Savannah cried. “You’re still paying her?”

Margot’s hand twitched. “Katie.”

“What’s happening?” Katie whispered.

I put my hand on the girl’s head. “Give them a second.”

Savannah blew out a heavy breath. “I can’t believe this.”

“I figured someday you’d ask.” Margot’s laugh was coated in tears. “The house is falling apart and I never seem to have any money. I’ve sold the paintings, the china, almost everything of value. I almost wish I had those gems so I could keep the roof from falling down on our heads.”

“I just thought…” Savannah dug her hands into her hair. “I thought you were gambling everything away. I’ve been saving money thinking I would buy the house if it came to that.”

“Oh, honey—”

“I had no idea you were paying my mother to stay away.” Savannah flung out her arms. “God, it sounds so ridiculous.”

“It is. It’s absolutely ridiculous,” Margot said. “But it was the best I could do. You’re a mother, Savannah. You understand.”

Savannah nodded, her smile watery as she stared at the fountain. “I understand. I do. It’s just going to take me a while to get my head around it.”

Margot’s eyes closed in what appeared to be sublime relief. “Well,” she said, her voice lighter, “don’t take too long. I’m an old woman.”

“Not that old.” Savannah touched Margot’s hand then squeezed it hard.

Finally, Margot turned her attention to me—the high beams of her charm and affection nearly blinding me. “As for you,” she said, “you are a miracle. A—” The tears she’d kept controlled until now streamed down her cheeks. “A blessing. I didn’t realize how badly we needed you until you showed up on my door.”

“It’s only a garden,” I whispered, touched by her sentiment.

“No, it is not,” she said, suddenly a dragon. “It is so much more and you are so much more.” Margot wrapped her arms around me, hugging me hard. “Don’t give up on her,” she whispered. “She needs you now more than ever.”

Margot stepped back and took Katie’s hand. “Let’s go make some celebration lemonade,” she said, giving Katie’s arm a shake. “And maybe a sugar pie.”

Katie leaped away, jumping toward the kitchen and the promise of sugar pie.

Now it was only me and Savannah standing in the sun-drenched courtyard, the fountain’s whirr and splash joining the mad pounding of my heart.

I couldn’t look away from Savannah, couldn’t stop wishing that she would look at me. I felt like a homeless dog searching for scraps.

I used to be better than this, but Savannah had changed the rules. She’d changed the whole game.

“I’ll stay,” I blurted and Savannah’s gaze flew to mine, wide and surprised. “I don’t have to go back just yet. I’ll call.” I dug into my pocket for my phone but Savannah’s cool hand stopped me.

Stopped my heart, to be honest.

“Don’t, Matt. You have to go back, you’ve made promises. And if you broke those now you’d never forgive yourself.”

“A few days, a few—”

“No, Matt.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked, shaken to the core.

“No!” she cried. “No, I don’t want you to leave, but I understand that you have to.”

There was so much on her shoulders. So much pain. So much betrayal. “I don’t know how to make this right for you.”

“It’s not up to you to make this right,” she said. “It doesn’t actually have anything to do with you.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “I love you.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide as though she didn’t get it. Something awful was beginning to build inside of me. Not just doubt or anger, but something dark and big and worse than the building collapse. Like a poison, black and thick, reality crested.