Page 37 of The Attic on Queen Street
“What was the message?”
“ ‘You will be sorry.’ All shouty caps.”
“ ‘Shouty caps’?” Jack failed to suppress a grin. “I don’t think that’s what it’s actually called.”
“Of course it is. If I’d just said ‘all caps,’ that could signify someone forgot to take off the caps lock. But by saying ‘shouty caps,’ you know they were intentional and that the words were meant to be shouted at you. There’s a big difference.”
Jack faked a serious face. “All right, then. Maybe I’ll use that in my next book.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened the screen. “What was the number?”
“I already did a Google search,” I said proudly. “I didn’t get any hits.”
“Good thinking.” His eyes were warm as he spoke, making me more pleased with myself than the simple task of Googling warranted. “But let me have it anyway. Maybe it’s someone I know with an unlisted phone number.”
My spine stiffened. “But why would—”
“I’m just hypothesizing, Mellie. I have a long history of interviewing people for my books who prefer to keep under the public radar. Not that they’d have a reason to text you or have your number. I still have to check. And I promise I’m not having some sordid affair.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to. I seem to have acquired the uncanny ability to follow your thinking as it jumps from conjecture to conclusion without pausing in the middle. I think it might be a self-preservation instinct from my prehistoric ancestors.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Too bad you haven’t moved farther along the evolutionary path. I guess I should be glad that the father of my children can stand upright.”
“And here I was thinking that you actually liked some of my more animallike behavior.”
My face flushed as I recalled exactlyhow muchI liked it; then I reached for my phone to avoid looking at him. I read out the number while Jack typed it into his phone, his mouth definitely wearing a smirk.
He shook his head. “Not someone in my contact list. We should—”
“Tell Detective Riley,” I finished for him. “I already did. He said he’d let me know what he finds.”
Jack sent me his trademark blood-swooshing grin. “Well done, Mellie. Beautyandbrains. I knew there was a reason I married you.”
He’d meant his words to be lighthearted, but the unasked question sat heavily in my chest.But not enough reason to stay with me?
I took a step toward the door, as eager to leave as I was to stay. “I guess we should both go to bed.” I frowned, my tired brain replaying what I’d just said out loud. “Separately, I mean. With you here. And me there. In our beds. But not together.” Ireallyneeded to stop hanging around Jayne so much.
“Good night, Mellie.”
I backed up toward the door, pausing as my hand touched the doorknob. As tired as I was, I was still reluctant to leave. Being with Jack, even without touching, made me happy. I had the fleeting thought that I should ask him if I could sleep in the chaise longue just so I could know he was near. Instead, I found myself focusing on the ancient porcelain ceiling fixture.
“I’m going to call Greco. He did such a great job redecorating Nola’s bedroom, I’d like him to work on the guest room for one of the twins. At some point they’re not going to want to share a room anymore. Jayne says that if we do it sooner rather than later, it won’t be as stressful on JJ and Sarah.”
“Sounds good. But can it wait?”
“Oh. Sure. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
“No, I meant I’m still sleeping in here. I’d rather not have Greco start until I’m gone.”
His words stung. I hadn’t thought about him leaving. I’d been so happy that he was at least under the same roof that I hadn’t considered that it might be temporary. I assumed Jack hadn’t considered it temporary, either.
“Oh, sure.” I smiled to hide the thickness in my throat. I turned and twisted the knob. “Good night, Jack,” I managed as I stepped out into the hallway.
A piercing scream from behind Nola’s closed bedroom door ripped the quiet night. I sprinted toward her room, Jack right behind me. To my surprise, the door opened on its own, and we panted in the doorway, fumbling for the light switch. The ceiling fixture flashed on with a glaring light before exploding with a shatteringpop.
“I’m okay,” Nola said into the darkness. She flicked on her bedside lamp, illuminating her sitting straight up against her pillows, only the black of her Brad Paisley T-shirt separating her deathly white face from the pale sheets. “Someone was in here—next to my bed.”
Jack went into special ops mode, looking under her bed and in hercloset. He disappeared into her bathroom and I heard the rings of the shower curtain being whipped aside.
