Page 53 of Soft Tissue Damage
I had to leave early for a job this morning, but thankfully you’re here, and I know Rosie is in loving hands. I hope the two of you have a lovely day together. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be thinking of you both.
Cullan will be thinking of us both. His thoughtfulness makes me smile, but what makes my heart glow is the gratitude and appreciation in his words.
“It’s you and me today, petal,” I tell Rosie as I pick her up out of her crib. “But Daddy’s thinking of us both.”
“Da-dee,” Rosie echoes sleepily, looking around for Cullan.
My face turns red as I carry her downstairs because I just called CullanDaddyout loud. Thankfully he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did hear because I said it in thenursery where there are three baby monitors. I can picture the amused smile he’d be giving me right now if he were here. Or a dark, smoldering look like the one he was giving me while he called himself Daddy with his finger thrusting inside me.
My face flames even hotter.
While Rosie’s in her high chair eating mashed banana and yogurt, I hold my phone and nibble on my thumbnail. Should I text Cullan with what Rosie’s doing as a thinly veiled excuse to tell him good morning? I feel the need to say something to him after he stripped me naked and made me come last night. I saw a different side to my boss last night. I think I like this side of him. Certain parts of me certainly do. Heat rushes to my core as I recall being in Cullan’s arm’s last night.
In the end, I decide to play it cool, not text Cullan, and read the news instead.
When I open the news website in my browser, a headline screams at me.
Three Dead in Home Invasion Spree Killing.
I frown and click on the article. There are a few photos of a house on the southeast side of town surrounded by yellow police tape. People wearing white disposable body suits are entering the property.
“Police are searching for a spree killer this morning after bodies were discovered in a south Blackport home,” I read under my breath. “The three people dead are Terrence and Brenda Margulies, 49 and 47, and Mrs. Margulies’s mother, 72. The bodies were discovered this morning by the cleaner, andneighbors have reported nothing suspicious. All members of the Margulies household died in their beds before alarm could be raised. Causes of death are not known, but crime scene investigators were seen placing a hammer that appeared to be covered with blood into an evidence bag.”
Blackport is no stranger to violence and murder, but this seems particularly cold-blooded, taking a hammer to a sleeping couple and an old woman. I shudder as I picture what the bodies must have looked like when the cleaner walked in. What the crime scene must look like. There must have been blood everywhere.
I put my phone down and try to think of something more pleasant. I’m reminded of the blood on Cullan’s arm last night. I do have a good reason to text him.
Elena: How’s your nosebleed? I hope it didn’t come back.
Cullan: All better thanks.
Cullan: Check out this handsome fellow.
He sends me a selfie of him kneeling amid a pile of tools and wires with his arm around a golden retriever. The dog has a happy smile and its tongue lolling out.
Elena: Cute. The dog’s not bad either.
He sends me back a winky face, and I grin at my phone until Rosie makes it clear that she’s ready to get down from her high chair and play.
“I hope you don’t mind me flirting with your dad, Rosie,” I say as I carry her back up to the nursery. We spend a happy morning playing with her dollhouse and colored blocks. I put on some music, and we dance together. I hold Rosie’s little hands and sing while shelaughs, jumps, and stomps her feet. After that we settle down in the nursery chair with a storybook, and she falls asleep cradled in my arms.
I close my eyes and hold Rosie, enjoying how wonderful this feels, looking after a sweet little toddler. Making her smile and laugh. Watching her grow and learn. Safe and warm in Cullan’s home. I’ve always wanted children, but I’m surprised how fast I’m getting attached to Rosie. My mind is busy thinking of fun ways we could spend the afternoon.
While she’s down for a nap, I tidy the nursery and put on a load of laundry. Just after midday, I fix lunch. A turkey salad for me, a peanut butter sandwich for Rosie, and some sliced grapes for both of us.
We’re sitting at the kitchen table eating and singing the theme song to Rosie’s favorite TV show when I hear the front door open. There are footsteps in the hall, and I wonder if Cullan has finished work early. But then, he’d come in through the garage, not the front door.
A moment later, Leon appears in the kitchen doorway. He’s surprised to see me sitting at the kitchen table with Rosie.
No. He’s shocked.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
For a moment, I can’t answer. I feel like I’ve been caught lying or stealing something. Like I’ve done something wrong, even though I have every right to be in Cullan’s house. “I’m the new nanny,” I say through numb lips.
Leon’s eyebrows creep slowly up his forehead. I’m just taking care of his sister, yet he’s looking at me as if I’ve done something offensive.
Leon can’t possibly know that I’ve been fooling around with his father, but I feel as though it’s written all over my face.
