Page 62 of Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls 1)

“You can have breakfast with us, Mar-Mar,” he announced, the picture of seriousness. “I’ll even share my Fruity Pebbles with you.”

“Thanks, kiddo. Fruity Pebbles are my favorite.”

“Mine too!” he declared, bouncing on his butt on the bed until he reached the edge. He threw himself off and came to me, taking my hand in his. “Come on. Let’s have some now.”

“Oh.” I turned and looked back at Pierce to see he was climbing from the bed and pulling on a pair of sweats that had been on the floor by his feet. I wasn’t sure if I was overstepping by still being here when Eli woke. I looked up, trying to read his face to see if this was okay, but it was nothing but a blank mask.

There hadn’t been enough time since waking up in a fright for either of us to say anything to the other, but I suddenly got a strange, unsettling sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’d just eaten week-old pizza.

“Pierce?” I called out, forcing his gaze to meet mine.

“It’s fine. You two go on down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Come on, Mar-Mar. Daddy doesn’t like Fruity Pebbles. He eats gross Frosted Flakes.” Eli pulled a face and stuck his tongue out. “They taste like cardboard.”

“All right, Cool Guy,” I said on a laugh, casting one last glance over my shoulder at Pierce, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was standing at the side of the bed, one hand on his hip, the other reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. He looked tense, but I wasn’t sure why, and as I headed down the stairs with Eli, I pushed the feeling in my stomach to the back of my mind, telling myself that everything was going to be just fine.

Just fine.

26

Marin

Everything wasnotfine. Not at all.

Pierce had returned to his former icy self all through breakfast Saturday morning. He wouldn’t meet my eyes over cereal. Any time I directed a question or statement to him, he’d give me short, one-word answers or simply grunt. It was déjà vu. I was getting serious flashbacks of the Pierce I’d known back when I was with Frank, and I didn’t understand why.

Needing an escape from the constant frigid chill, I’d made an excuse and booked it home. I’d piddled around my apartment. When that became boring—which didn’t take long—I visited Ms. Weatherby. However, that didn’t last long. The damn insightful woman sensed something was off, and when she’d started asking questions, I lied and said I needed to get my laundry done and shot out of there like a bullet.

I’d called Tali, but she and Nick were in the middle of some sort of battle that consisted of him trying to woo her and her giving him the silent treatment. Figuring my brother-in-law didn’t need any interruptions when it came to winning his wife back, I’d turned down her offer to meet for drinks at our local bar, The Tap Room.

I’d lost count of how many times I checked my phone, hoping for a text or missed call oranythingfrom Pierce.

When dinner time rolled around, I finally got sick of waiting and decided to take action.

Me:I hope you and Eli had a good day today. Miss you guys.

I waited and waited for a reply. An hour passed, then another, and still nothing. I could see he read it, which meant he was avoiding me.

Through the ball of dread taking up residence in my stomach, I shot off another one.

Me:Is everything all right? Something’s happened. Tell me what it is.

I’d racked my brain all day long, trying to figure out what could have caused the Pierce I’d had for the past few weeks to revert back to the Pierce I didn’t all that much like.

Another hour passed before he replied. However, what he had to say certainly didn’t help shed any light on the situation.

Pierce:Everything’s fine. Would it be possible for you to watch Eli on Monday? Turns out I need to go into the office despite the holiday to catch up on some things. I’ll need you here by 7:30. Let me know if that doesn’t work so I can make other arrangements.

Was he serious?

Me:Of course I’ll watch Eli. You know that. Does this mean you and I won’t be having that talk on Monday?

He didn’t make me wait with that one... the jerk.

Pierce:Marin, you know how busy I am right now. I don’t have the time. We’ll discuss that later.

That dread gave way to a knot of anger that grew bigger and stronger through the rest of Saturday and all the way through Sunday when I didn’t hear a word from him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to rage. I wanted to track him down and punch him in the face, then demand he tell me what the hell was going on. Then I wanted to punch him in the face again for good measure, just because he’d put me through the emotional wringer.

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