Page 120 of Start With A Slap

Someone’s mom. She rummaged through her bureau’s top drawer for her birth control pills ...which were wedged next to the red Cartier box. Stifling an urge to check that the watch was still inside, she opened the pill compact. “The rain doesn’t give you colds. Germs do.”

“Fine. I’ll sound like a broken record: I don’t like the thought of my beautiful five-foot-three, ninety-five pound wife braving the LA streets at night.”

That sounded more likesomeone’s dad. Not that the dad in question cared what happened to her last night. “I’m one-fifteen, I’d be skeletal at ninety-five. And I told you,” she furtively swallowed a Lybrel, praying he wouldn’t start with the baby-making talk again, “I handled it.”

“Such a control freak.” Catching her at the door, he pulled her close. “Are you sure you’re okay? Hey. How much sleep did you get?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Unable to meet his gaze, she straightened his tie. “Just gotta mainline a pot of coffee and I’m off to the salt mines. Now, scoot. Justice waits for no man.”

Coiling his arms around her waist, he sighed. “I’m gonna miss you this week.”

“You’ll see me every single night.”

“Sure, right before I pass out.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “When this one’s over, I wanna take you to the mountains. Just you, me and Huey. What do you say?”

Your mother is alive. I know about you and your stepmother. I’ve been sleeping with your father.

“I say yes.”

Two days. Two days she’d been wandering around in this anesthetized fog, and there was not one single new message fromLe Mal.

Not that she expected it. He didn’t want her anymore.

And that was a good thing. She didn’t want him either. Sheneverwanted him. She was relieved to be cut loose at long last.

If only he’d done the cuttingbeforeshowing her the horrible truth about her husband’s mother;beforeleaving her with a huge mess to clean up and no mop big enough for the job.

I’m in love with you! Get out! I don’t want you anymore.

Her eyes rested on the flowerless plant on her cubicle desk, the dry, brown petals decaying in its soil.Gets what he wants and moves on, that’s his M.O., isn’t it?Although his M.O. probably didn’t include crying and four-letter declarations.

Ivy wiped an errant tear from her cheek and got back to work.

Friday had come too quickly.Jason was about to have an entire weekend to ruminate over and decide his father’s fate. There were multiple reasons to put a stop to this, not least of which was Jason’s well-being.

Involving the authorities could open a can of worms that would eat through the very fabric of his belief system: His mother, alive. His father, not a murderer. The naturalconclusion, that someoneelsehad been murdered, would spawn years of litigation and misery and heartache for everyone involved—and maybe even jail time for Sever, if his lawyers didn’t manage to clear his name. Arguably, he deserved it, but Ivy was convinced that what Sever did was an act of emotional desperation, not malice, and for that, he was pardoned in her eyes. A jury, however, might not see it the same way.

Ivy poured herself a second glass of Pinot Grigio, making sure not to spill any of it onto the document pile on their coffee table. She sat back on the couch, sipping, seeing nuances inSunflower Xshe hadn’t noticed before.

Ivy’s mother had taught her that there was a solid line between right and wrong. That a strong set of principles could guide you through any fix, and that following your heart was, by and large, irresponsible.

But life wasn’t that easy to define, was it?

“What would you tell me now, Mom? If you knew everything, you wouldn’t...”

Ivy trailed off and looked down. She was talking to the painting again. And if her mother knew everything, she would tell Ivy she was out of her damned mind. Much like Jason would, if given the chance.

They were a lot alike, Jason and her mother, and Ivy was self-aware enough to know that wasn’t a coincidence. For the first nineteen years of her life, Diane Belman-Tyler had been Ivy’s grounding force. She was fun, full of life, deeply intelligent and incredibly wise, and everyone Ivy dated since her passing was, in some way or another, a means to fill that void. Diego, Gabe, Noah, Jason... all down-to-earth, dependable guys she could laugh with.

—Don’t you mean safe?

If she thought about it, wasn’t Sever the flipside of that coin? The opposite of everything she knew was good for her? Anextreme representation of her negligent, alcoholic, self-serving father?

Of course he was. Sever gave her the raw, rapt, unapologeticallymaleattention she’d never dared to dream of but had obviously always sought — even moreso in light of her father’s recent death. That’s why she’d eaten it up, that’s why she’d felt an immediate connection, that’s why she’d let it go so far...

And that’s why it broke her heart to hear him say, “I don’t want you.” It crystallized her hidden fear of abandonment.

Ofcoursethat’s all he was. A rich, cultured version of her deadbeat father. If her mother was here, she’d call himmotetz dam: A bloodsucker who reels you in with charming little lies, then drains the life out of you when you bare your neck.

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