“I think we need it,” I said.“Where is daddy? Henry asked.Not long Russell O’Rourke stood at the door, he stepped in. My sons backed up in their separate bed in fear.“It’s okay, kids,” I said, giving her a reassuring glance. “This is the man who saved you.”“Judging by what the ballistics guys have just told me,” growled O’Rourke, “it was Riley who saved the two of you.”I lowered my eyes, and felt a rush of blood spread to my cheeks.“Daddy was the hero,” Harry asked, and suddenly I felt tears rushing up through my body.“Yeah,” I said. “He was.” And I began to cry.***Sara came to sit with my kids for a while. There was something I knew I had to do. If I didn’t do it now, I wouldn’t sleep a wink. And more than anything, I needed to sleep now. Needed to know that the nightmare was over.Only, it wasn’t.Because Riley hadn’t woken up yet.When Lena had gone over the side, Riley had gone with him. Lena was handcuffed to a bed in a different hospital somewhere.He was medicated out
RILEYFew days later we return home, our kids were having nightmares.My Grandparents have been helpful, they came spend some few days with us then left, they always call to know about our well being. they couldn’t sleep alone, we had to share bed with them I practically left her off balance when I leaped from the shower and kissed Chloe. But then, as I cradled her, with nothing but a towel around my waist, she put a hand knowingly to her lips. And then I remembered that our kids were fast asleep.“It’s three walls of soundproofed insulation,” I said.“I still want to be quiet,” Chloe said, playfully.I grinned and wrapped my arms around her head as I kissed her. In turn, she put her arms around me, and the feeling of the soft linen material of her shirt as it pressed against my naked back was ecstasy. In the low light of my bedroom, I picked her up easily, and span her as we kissed, making her a little dizzy. By the time I threw her onto the bed, cushioning her fall with my arms, I
Once we’d figured out what normal was.“What are you thinking?” I said, and Chloe turned around, and smiled. But there was a sadness in her eyes.“Been a long time since anyone asked me that,” she said.“I’m making it my business to know these days,” I said, as I took her in my arms. I cradled her waist and pulled her up to me, and we kissed, her eyes glinting with the far-off neon and streetlights of New York City beneath us.“I’m thinking that I’m going to miss this view,” she said.“You don’t have to miss it just yet,” I said. “After all, you’re still going to need to find a new apartment.”“I guess so,” she said thoughtfully. “And a job.”“Well, when the company’s rebuilt in November, I’ll be sure to give you a ring.”“Actually, I was thinking that I’ve been working as a PA for too long,” said Chloe.“ I want to earn better now and go back to my crumbled business” Said Chloe.“The jewelry business…..uh?she nodded.“ I guess the boys need a little sister?She looks up to me.“not no
NICOLE I run up the dirty steps to get out of the NYC Subway system, cursing the backed-up trains, and tapping frantically on my phone. I can still save the morning, get to work on time, and make a good impression on my new boss if I take a ride share. I can get to work in...I hold my breath, watching the app’s loading signal. Ten minutes. That’s when the nearest car can get to me. I blow out a sigh of relief and wrap my puffy coat tighter against the winter cold. I can make that work. In my headphones, Summer walker is breathlessly singing about throwing a wish in the well. I love this song because you can hear the smile in her voice. I take a few more deep breaths and remind myself thatthis timethings are going to work out. For good. I wait for my heartbeat to slow from a sprint to a jog. The truth is, I’d be a knot of anxiety, even without the backed-up trains. I'm a 26-year-old graphic designer, and I have the worst possible luck with jobs. First there was the theater company t
Carlos puts a drink on the bar, and I snatch it before the Suit can. Victory, I think. And immediately I feel a little stronger, tougher, more formidable. I wonder if this feeling is why men are obsessed with winning. “Hey,” Nathan says, his voice low and stern enough to give a woman fantasies. Not me though. I am fantasy free. “That’s mine,” he says. “No, it’s mine,” I say, taking a swig of coffee. And then I’m coughing and gagging because of how black and bitter it is. No, it’s mine,” I say, taking a swig of coffee. And then I’m coughing and gagging because of how black and bitter it is. So much for the victory tasting sweet. “Never mind,” I croak, as Carlos sets my bagel and coffee on the counter. I pass this coffee to the Suit. “This one’s yours.” He looks down at the lipstick stain on the coffee lid with distaste. Then his phone buzzes, and he swears. He takes the coffee from me, and my stomach does a weird buzzy thing when our fingers touch. Probably leftover adrenaline
And that gives me enough courage to settle in and fasten my seat belt. “Here’s the thing,” I say. “I’m not getting out. So, we can keep arguing and both be late, or we can stop arguing and both get there on time. Either way, we’re doing it together.” Nathan sizes me up, from my black flats, to my itchy gray suit, to my blond curls tied back in a ponytail, to the mutinous set of my jaw. For the first time all morning, I get the sense that he’s really seeing me. For some reason, the idea makes my pulse speed up. “Are you trying to tell if I’m bluffing?” I ask. “No,” he says shortly. “I don’t gamble.” He leans forward, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Drop me off first. There’s an extra hundred in it for you.” “Drop me off first,” I say. “Please. I can’t be late. I can give you...” I rack my brains, “a pumpkin spice bagel.” “You’re both going to the same block,” the driver says, in a voice that suggests his day has already been far too long. “Oh.” I hesitate. “D
It’s distressing that I’ve spent enough time with this man to have a “usual.” My mind flashes to all the stories my parents told me about New York murderers to try to keep me from moving all the way out here after college. They pick a random woman off the street, then follow her, and by the time she realizes there’s something wrong, it’s too late.Granted, most of mom’s horror stories were from the 80s. Except there was that one true-crime podcast last year about the elevator murderer. They never caught him. “You forgot to hit the button for your floor,” I say, my voice coming out squeakily. “Unfortunately for one of us,” he says, “I didn’t.” Jesus fucking Christ. I angered a serial killer by stealing his coffee and now I’m going to die in an office elevator on my first day of work. Is that danger in his eyes? It looks like danger. He definitely looks like he wants to do violence to someone. And I’m the only someone here. Heart pounding, I discreetly slip my hand into my purse
I stand and leave without bothering to say goodbye.It’s just after 3:00 p.m. when my assistant Lucia steps into the office and coughs discreetly. In one of her many stylishly asymmetrical loose black suits and her signature brunette pixie cut, she In addition to being a flawless administrative assistant, she can get information out of anyone.Also, she’s on my side.Everyone at the company can be divided into basically two camps: the people on my dad’s side, and the people on mine. My side has most of the admin team (since I don’t patronize them), the accounting department (since I care about little things like tax law and financial solvency), and generally all the account managers, copywriters, and project managers who are actually good at their jobs. My dad’s side has the sales team, everyone who likes reminiscing about the good old days more than doing their jobs, and a few ambitious kiss-ups in account management who appreciate how easy my dad is to manipulate. Also weirdly the