Page 18 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
Tony’s waiting for a response.
“Our home,” I say, warm with the realization that there will finally be a place I belong. “I think it’ll be weird to have somebody around all the time. I’m just getting used to Bobbi. But I’m sure if we have children, I might want to have a live-in nanny or something for a while to help out. New moms always look so exhausted. Even though they love their babies, they always seem to look forward to some relative coming over to help out.”
I don’t have a mom, and I don’t want Margot around our kids. So that means outside help with people who know what they’re doing. It makes me feel a little inadequate. But I tell myself to look on the bright side. I’m privileged to be able to afford the help I need.
Tony’s face is hidden in shadows. “Let’s get some sleep. It’s late.”
True enough. It’s already almost one thirty. He must be exhausted after all that’s happened. I didn’t get much sleep last night either, and I’m suddenly exhausted, especially now that the adrenaline’s slowly wearing off. We brush our teeth side by side. By the time I put on my Tweety nightshirt, he’s already in bed.
I slide in, pulling the covers over me. We don’t touch. I wish he’d hold me, but he’s too tense. Maybe he’s thinking about the driver. Or maybe he’s thinking about something else.
Sleep eludes me, too. I fold my hands over my belly and stare straight at the ceiling. The events of the night replay in my mind, making my jaw clench with the same fear from before. Maybe Tony’s trying to process it logically.
I wonder if we should talk about it. Or is there anything to talk about? We lived through it together.
I touch my still-bare ring finger. I miss Tony. Not just physically but emotionally. Sex is never just sex between us. It’s one of the deepest and most vulnerable emotional connections we could share. What if we never have that again?
Tension’s pouring out of Tony, which stokes my agitation. This is going to be a long night.
Unless I do something about it.
And the thing is that I need to accept the reality of my situation, no matter how scary it is. Tony wasn’t lying about my being in danger. What happened tonight couldn’t have demonstrated that more starkly. He said he only went along with my Iris identity, which Sam gave me, out of fear. He talked about the girl in the blue dress. The unbearable pain he suffered when he thought he’d lost me…then saw me again…alive and whole.
Why did I ever think Tony was like Sam? Why didn’t I realize that people like Elizabeth or Yuna have no reason to go along with a “Let’s Fool Ivy” show—if there even was such a thing?
I was so angry about not being told who I was that I let it drive everything I did. Why didn’t I pause for a moment and examine the real reason Marty told me the truth at the funeral? It certainly wasn’t out of altruism. Whatever Sam and he got from lying about my identity had ended. So he let me know just to screw with me—and to hurt Tony. Two birds with one stone.
Marty has never done a thing for me. I should’ve done the exact opposite of what he expected me to do.
I look at the few inches of space between me and Tony. I could die tomorrow. The killer was reckless tonight, but he isn’t going to give up because he failed this time. And I don’t want to waste the time Tony and I have being angry or resentful. We love each other too much not to fix this.
“Tony? Are you asleep?” I ask softly, even though I know he’s not.
“No.”
I press my lips together for a moment, wondering how I should start what I need to say.
“Just thinking.” His voice is taut.
“About?”
“Something Byron said. When we went to get your things earlier.”
He wasn’t thinking about the attack? Really?“What was that?”
“You guys kissed yesterday.”
“Whaaaat?” I jackknife up, like somebody just threw a glass of ice water in my face. I swivel my head in Tony’s direction, but it’s too dark to really see him. I turn on the small bedside light, flooding the room with a soft glow.
“Why would he tell you that?” I say. “Oh my God, he’s such an idiot!” Now I wonder if Byron’s desire for “benefits” has more to do with striking at Tony than really wanting me.
“On that, we’re in total agreement.”
“What else did he say?” If he said I liked it, I’ll kill him.
Tony’s face is harder than a frozen lake. “That’s all. There wasn’t more time.”
I plop back on the bed, then slip a hand under my cheek as I turn toward Tony. I don’t really want to talk about what happened between me and Byron, since it’s super awkward, but I’m not going to hide it, either. I didn’t do anything wrong and I don’t want Tony to think the kiss meant something.
