For 100 Days(88)

I glance down at the social media stats at the bottom of the article and feel some of the color drain from my face. “Are you shitting me? Tasha, this article has more than a million views.”

“Congratulations,” she says cheerfully, unaware of the growing knot of unease that’s coiling in my stomach. “You’re officially famous, girlfriend.”



~ ~ ~



I’m in a restless mood when I arrive home from brunch with Tasha, and I can see it in the painting I’m working on in my makeshift studio in Claire’s living room. The landscape I’d been trying to perfect for so long without success currently sits abandoned against the wall, along with the crated works I haven’t bothered to open since I brought them home from Dominion a couple of months ago.

On my easel now is something all new, a piece inspired by my getaway with Nick. I began working on it secretly after we arrived back in New York. In the weeks since, it’s been my obsession. As I add the last of the shading on the silvery feathers that are the heart of the piece, I’m so engrossed, I barely register the ringing of my cell phone on the end table beside me.

Although I’m waiting on a call from Nick after texting him when I got back from brunch, I’m not surprised to see the Pennsylvania area code on the caller ID display. After a favorable interview with the parole board a couple of weeks ago, my mother’s excitement for her pending case review next month is practically all she talks about now. I’m excited, too, praying with an almost desperate hope that the state finally shows her some mercy.

Setting down my brush, I quickly wipe my hands on a paint cloth and grab for my phone. I swipe the lock screen and wait to hear the automated operator.

But the familiar message doesn’t come.

The line is connected, but all I hear is empty air . . .

And the faint sound of breathing on the other end.

“Hello? Is someone there?” I wait another second, then pull the phone away from my ear and check to see if the call has dropped. No, it hasn’t. And now I swallow on a suddenly arid throat, even as I assure myself that I have no reason to feel afraid. “Hello? Mom, is that you?”

The line goes dead.

I’m still holding the phone in my frozen fingers when it rings again. Whether it’s been a few seconds or a several minutes, I’m not entirely sure. All I know is the rapid pound of my heart beating in my chest, and the chill dread that squeezes me in its fist as I nervously glance at the screen again.

Nick.

Relief pushes the air out of my lungs on a heavy sigh, but my nerves are far from steady as I swipe my finger across the phone to answer his call.

“Hi.” My voice comes out thin and quiet, almost breathless.

“Hi, yourself.” He gives me a low, sensual groan. “Why do you have to sound so damn sexy when I’m thirty four hundred miles away?”

I smile despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Hearing Nick’s voice always has a comforting effect on me, and now is no exception. Besides, I’m sure the other call was nothing. Probably someone from the prison administration or the public defender’s office calling my number unintentionally. Just a harmless butt-dial. No reason to start looking for ghosts or jumping at shadows.

Instead, I reach for a tether to bring me back to the real world. “How was the meeting with the aerospace people?”

“Profitable. We closed on the acquisition before dinner tonight.” He sounds genuinely excited, even proud.

“Nick, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

I can practically hear the grin in his reply. “The capital we’re injecting into the operation’s going beef up production schedules by twofold. If everything goes well, by this time next year, Baine International will be the third largest entrant in the private spaceflight market.”

I’m astonished, but not surprised. Nothing about this man’s ambition and drive, nor his intellect, shocks me anymore. He is a force to be reckoned with, and I doubt he’s ever met a challenge he couldn’t conquer—on this planet or any other, evidently. “If you keep dominating markets outside our orbit, you’re going to have to seriously consider new letterhead. Baine Intergalactic has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckles. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“I’m excited for you, Nick. I wish we could celebrate in person.”

“So do I. And we will, as soon as I return.” Then his voice takes on a deeper timbre. “Until then, I can think of some interesting ways to celebrate together long-distance.”

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh, even as my body quickens with interest. “And I want to hear every wicked one of them, but . . . that’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you. I met Tasha in the city today. While we were talking, she showed me a gossip page article about the mayor’s gala last month. There were photos of us together as we arrived. Apparently, they’ve gone viral on the Internet.”