“So I said I was going to do it. And it’s in the city. With my ex-boyfriend, Gage,” she said in a rush, spilling out all the information at once.
Unsurprisingly, that managed to catch his attention. Nothing like a little bit of good, old-fashioned male jealousy to get a job done. Carl finally looked up from his laptop, closing it slowly as he stared at her over the rim of his glasses. Fiona leaned back further on the couch, wanting the tactile comfort of the inanimate pillows against her back and neck.
“What’s that, you say?” Carl asked, still clutching onto the laptop that remained in his lap, even though it was now closed.
“I’m going to go work with my ex, Gage, on a murder case for a little while ,” Fiona said, trying to keep her voice as steady and confident as possible, even though her insides were squirming around like dying worms. She didn’t know why she felt so scared. Carl had never even so much as raised his voice at her. But this was the way she was around men, angry and defiant one second, weak and cowering the next. It was just one of those neat little symptoms of being a kidnapping victim. Or “survivor,” Fiona guessed, was the proper term, but most days, it didn’t feel an appropriate term to describe herself.
“Did you already tell him you’re going?” Carl asked, but he interrupted her before she could answer the question. “How long will you be gone? What…what will you be doing, exactly?”
Fiona shrugged, unsure of which question to tackle first. “I don’t know how long it will take. It depends on if…if we find this girl that’s missing. But…yes, I did tell him I would do it, a few hours ago.”
“And did you ever stop to think that I might want to be let in on this decision?” Carl asked, raising his arched eyebrows until his forehead wrinkled up.
Fiona immediately felt like she was a disobedient schoolgirl being scolded by the principal. Her entire body was flushed with heat, and the tips of her fingers trembled like she’d been stuck with ten sharp needles.
“The case…they need me. I figured you wouldn’t have a problem with it,” Fiona lied, smiling weakly at Carl as he stared at her with his eyebrows frozen in place.
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Carl replied, stressing his syllables harder than he normally would. “But I wish you would have asked me. That’s all.”
“Okay,” Fiona said softly, inching a little bit closer to Carl on the couch until their thighs brushed up against each other. “I’m sorry.”
“Will it be dangerous?” Carl asked, shifting back on the couch, away from Fiona’s legs. Fiona didn’t know whether or not that was a sign that he was secretly pissed. Maybe he just didn’t consider the contact necessary. Carl didn’t like to be touched a lot. He and Fiona got along that way, most of the time.
“No,” Fiona said without considering the question. Then, a second later, “Well, anyway, I don’t think so.”
“I’d like to meet him,” Carl said, opening his laptop back up and typing in the password to unlock his screen.
“Wha…what?” Fiona stuttered out, utterly confused, his words taking a while to sink into her brain.
“Your ex—Gage. I think it’s important to meet people who are important to you. Maybe he could come to the wedding,” Carl said as he resumed typing up a storm on his keyboard.
“I—no,” Fiona replied, feeling absolutely tongue-tied. “No,” she repeated herself, trying to sound stronger and louder, more firm in her decision. Because it was her decision, Goddammit, she kept thinking to herself. She got to decide this. Not Gage, not Carl, but me, she said to herself. Right?
Carl’s fingers slowed down over his keys. “No? Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to,” Fiona said, quickly getting to her feet, the need to pace around suddenly overwhelming.
“Well, that doesn’t make sense to me,” Carl said before he started typing again, his eyes narrowing to little slits as he stared at his computer screen. Fiona was silent for a long moment, just staring at him, looking at him not looking at her, and her gut physically quivered with how angry she became out of nowhere.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” Fiona demanded, putting her hands on her waist as she stood across from the couch.
Carl paused again, finally pushing the laptop over to the side of his body and clasping his hands in his lap as if he were about to start praying. “What else is there to say? You made a decision without consulting me, I’m unhappy with it, I told you what I’d like to do, and yet you’re not willing to budge. Do you want me to argue with you or to respect your decision? Which is it, Fiona?”