Ramsay(54)

**********



I went back inside Brogan's apartment and stood staring out the window  at the city beyond for a good long while as I considered Stuart's  demeanor and everything he had said.

I felt worried and sickened, scared and confused. There was something  wrong with Stuart-either it was paranoia or perhaps drugs, maybe  both-but was the paranoia based on something real? Had Brogan told me he  paid Stuart's debts and not really done so for some nefarious reason? I  shook my head at the very thought. No . . . no. I didn't believe that. I  wouldn't. I trusted Brogan. It had been weeks since I'd been knifed,  and the threat had been about Stuart. So, if no harm had come to him . .  . although . . . why had Brogan lied about buying my family's old  estate? He had bought it months ago and that day when we'd gone there  together, I'd said something to him about how it had gone up for sale,  and he could have bought it himself, and he'd . . . what had he done?  He'd said he needed a guesthouse for Eileen. He'd redirected the  conversation. But why?

I wanted to trust him so badly, but doubts were assaulting me left and  right. Speaking of doubts, what was he really working on today? And why  had he pawned me off on Fionn so many nights recently while he  apparently worked late? I hadn't wanted to pry too much before today,  suspected maybe Brogan did jobs he didn't want me involved in for  safety's sake, and I was okay with that, but now I needed answers. I  needed reassurance. To know the truth, I would have to look in his eyes  and watch as he answered all my questions. That meant waiting until  later.                       
       
           



       

The buzzer sounded from the street and I walked quickly to the door,  giving the screen a precursory glance, seeing Daisy's face and buzzing  her up.

I opened Brogan's apartment door and waited for the elevator in the  vestibule, pacing as I did so, going over my worries again. I needed to  put them aside though as soon as the elevator opened because Daisy  needed me. What was taking so long?

Finally, the elevator dinged softly. Even before the doors slid  completely open, I heard Daisy laughing with someone and frowned  slightly. Was Brogan home already? Daisy stepped out of the elevator  smiling, although her eyes were red and puffy. I smiled back and started  toward her, when Courtney stepped out from behind. I halted, my smile  slipping. Oh God. What now?

"Lydia," Daisy said, "this is Court-"

"Yes, I know who she is." I sighed. "Hello, Courtney. Brogan isn't here."

Courtney gave me a smile, somewhat cat-like, but it moved quickly into a  small frown. "Oh dear. Well, I'd tell you to leave him a message, but  it's somewhat personal in nature." She tapped one long red nail on her  front tooth for a moment as if in thought as my heart began beating  faster. What was she up to?

She looked at Daisy. "Oh Daisy darling, you've confided in me about your  philandering husband, the prick." She put her hand on Daisy's shoulder.  "And so I feel comfortable confiding in you. I had a pregnancy scare!"  Her eyes widened as she turned her face to me. "I just wanted to let  Brogan know there was no longer reason for concern. Until next time, I  suppose." She laughed softly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.  Pregnancy scare? Next time?

"You're lying," I said flatly. There was no way Brogan was sleeping with  this woman. Or was that where he'd been going some nights . . .

Daisy looked confused as her head moved from Courtney to me. Courtney  walked toward me slowly, sizing me up as if she was about to devour me  and wanted to make sure I'd satisfy her appetite.

"No," she said. "I'm not. Ask him yourself."

"I will," I said, lifting my chin and crossing my arms, biting down on my lip that insisted on shaking.

One side of her mouth tipped up in some strange version of a smile, and  there was pity in her eyes. My guts twisted painfully, and it took  everything in me not to run inside and slam the door on her, make this  stop, start this whole day over. I'd woken in Brogan's arms; his hand  had been cupping my breast possessively.

"He told me about you as he fucked me. Did he tell you that? He told me  how he was going to ruin you. He told me he was going to enjoy it."

My stomach dropped and a small sound came from my throat. Oh God. I put  my hand over my mouth, to stop the noise, or perhaps the vomit that  threatened. Please make this stop. Blood was rushing in my ears and my  skin felt hot and prickly.

Daisy moved quickly to my side, glaring at Courtney. "Wait, who the fuck are you?"

Courtney's eyes moved slowly away from me, halting on Daisy. She tilted  her head. "I'm the woman Brogan is going to marry once he's done  demolishing her completely," she said.

And that's when I did turn and run into Brogan's apartment, straight for  the downstairs powder room where I vomited up my breakfast.

I distantly heard Daisy speaking harshly and then the slam of Brogan's  door and Daisy's heels clicking on the floor as she called my name. I  groaned and a second later Daisy was behind me, holding my hair away  from my face as I spat into the bowl. I stood slowly and she helped me  to the sink, meeting my eyes in the mirror, hers red and puffy, mine  wide and shocked.

"Pack your stuff, honey," she said as she turned on the water. "I don't  know what's going on, and you're going to tell me. But either way, I  don't think it's a good idea for you to stay here. We're going to get in  my car, and I'm going to take you back to Greenwich. Fucking men," she  muttered.

I blinked at her, my head and my heart aching. "Okay," I finally  squeaked. I just needed space. I needed to get out of here and think. I  couldn't do that in Brogan's apartment.

"He told me about you as he fucked me. Did he tell you that? He told me  how he was going to ruin you. He told me he was going to enjoy it." Oh  God, Brogan. Why?

I walked numbly upstairs and started putting my things into my travel bag, allowing the tears to fall as I packed.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE




Brogan



"Lydia?" I called, moving the large bouquet of endless summer hydrangeas to my other hand and closing the door behind me.

I went into the kitchen and put the flowers on the counter as I called  her name again. Where was she? I wanted to celebrate. It was done.  Stuart's debt was paid for. Finished. Thank God. A huge weight had been  lifted from my shoulders. And now . . . I finally felt hope that the  mess I'd created was going to be over, and Lydia and I could really move  forward. I even wondered if maybe she'd agree to move in with me. I  planned to bring it up at dinner. It felt soon, but then again, it felt  like seven years too late.                       
       
           



       

I went upstairs calling her name for the third time, a tiny fissure of  worry opening inside me when again, she didn't respond and I didn't hear  the water running. I didn't hear anything.

Her room, cleared of all her personal items, hit me like a fist to the  gut. I looked around helplessly. She was gone? Why? My heart slammed  against my ribs as fear slid down my spine. Was she in danger? I saw a  piece of paper sitting on her dresser and rushed to it, grabbing it.



Brogan,

I'm leaving to stay with my friend Daisy. Please don't call me tonight. I'll contact you when I'm ready.

Lydia



I swallowed, reading the note a second time, trying to understand. Why? A  sick hurt assaulted me. When I'd left this morning, everything had been  fine. We'd made sleepy love before either of us were fully awake, and  she'd kissed me and smiled as I'd left, telling me she'd see me later  that evening. And now she was suddenly gone with no explanation? And her  letter, it was so . . . terse.

I turned and stared blankly at the bed, remembering the night I'd  revealed all my secrets to her. My eyes moved to the bedside table,  blinking at it repeatedly as more sick hurt gripped my heart. The  folder-my stupid, ridiculous folder-the thing that had once kept me  going, it was gone. Lydia had taken it with her? I stumbled to the bed,  my legs collapsing as I sat down on the edge, putting my head in my  hands. Why, Lydia? I didn't understand. Why?



**********



I sat at my desk staring blankly at the stack of papers in front of me.  After finding Lydia gone, I'd come to my office in the Bronx. I couldn't  be at the apartment. God, would I ever be able to be at my own  apartment without her? She'd told me not to call her, but I'd done so  anyway, getting only her voicemail. I'd give her a couple of days. And  then I'd go to Daisy's and demand she talk to me. She owed me an  explanation about why she'd left and why she'd taken my folder. My  stomach felt sour and my head hurt. I'd been going over every moment of  our exchanges over the past few days for hours and still hadn't come up  with an answer.