“It’s not that easy to hide, anymore. You found me through the internet and I changed my passport, my identity.”
“Then we go somewhere where that kind of digital landscape is less robust. Where we’re not going to be tracked by CCTV, by credit card receipts, by—”
“So, what, the third world?”
“Not exactly, Dee,” I say. “But America, England, here… if you’re worried about being tracked down, these are the places where it is most easy to be.”
“So you’re suggesting Thailand or something.”
“Or something, yes.”
“And what about Thom’s education? What about his quality of life?”
“I don’t have all the answers, Dee. I just know what we can do. We have one option we haven’t explored.”
“What’s that?”
“Put a hit on your father.”
She freezes. “No,” she says after a moment. “And you don’t have that kind of sway.”
“I have several million dollars, and there are a lot of desperate people.”
“Nobody would get close enough.”
“We know your father’s routine.”
“No!” she cries, slapping the table. “I am not going to put a hit on my fucking father.”
I lick my lips, meet her eyes. “I didn’t think you would go for that.”
“So why even bring it up?”
“Everything has to be on the table right now. We are working under the assumption that he is coming for you right this very minute. I won’t ignore an option. In the cage, you—”
“Quit it with the damn fighting analogies, Duncan, I’m not an idiot. I get it. Try get the money through a middle man. See what you turn up, I’ll talk to some people at work.”
“Fine.”
“If you get it, then we split, plain and simple. We go somewhere, change our names again, change everything, use all of that money to buy a secure future for our son. I don’t need luxury, but I need security.”
“I agree.”
There’s a drawn out pause, a moment of quiet where we both reflect, and where the tension between us is unusually high.
“You got any white wine?” I ask, knowing it’s probably a long shot. Dee won’t be drinking while she’s pregnant, even if doctors say it’s okay every now and then. She’s thorough like that.
“You drinking now?”
“Sometimes, but it’s a sauce for the chicken. I’m going to bake it.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a bottle my boss gave me a while back. Hold on, I’ll dig it out.”
“The alcohol will boil off.”
“I know.”
She hands me a bottle of Oyster Bay, probably a little too good to use as just a cooking wine, but if it’s all we have…
I season the chicken, salt, pepper, some diced garlic, whisk together the wine with a tiny bit of olive oil and then pour it over the chicken, cover it in aluminum foil, and pop it into the oven.
“We’ll have a late dinner tonight,” I say, looking at the clock. It’s already half-past eight.
“You were really saving all that money for us?”
I meet Dee’s eyes. They’re wide, black, inky, and like the first time I climbed out of that limo and saw her outside her house, I feel like I’m falling into them.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were the only important part of my life. What the hell else did I have to spend it on?”
“Yourself?”
“I’m a simple person. I don’t need to buy myself shit.”
“So you thought I’d just run away with you, huh?” She grins. “We’d go traveling the world together? Go get lost together?”
“Yes.”
“How did you even know if I would say yes? I was in college… I wanted a career.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I might have,” she whispers. “It was clear Dad wasn’t going to loosen his grip.”
“No,” I agree.
“I never would have guessed it.”
“I didn’t talk about it.”
“No, you didn’t. You should have.”
“Why?”
“We might have been able to go before all of… this. Before Dad found out about the baby.”
“I wasn’t ready yet.”
“Ready for what? A few more fights gets you, what, a little bit more?”
“Ready to risk you saying ‘no’.” I grip the edge of the counter, for the first time admitting it to not just Dee, but to myself.
“You were scared?”
“Yeah,” I say, voice low. I turn around, start washing the mushrooms, but feel Dee’s hands snake around my waist. She rests her head on my back, and I wash and slice the mushrooms with her holding me in silence.