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No, I can get sex anywhere I want.
So why did I go to him?
I push the mounting thoughts down. I don’t need the complication of thoughts or feelings. I don’t do feelings, and I don’t chase men.
It’s a debt to be paid. Once it’s done, River will be out of my life forever. Though, I’m not so sure of that now that he’s bought the house beside mine. But I’m sure I can become the neighbor from hell.
And even after all the mental fuckery, I still didn’t get laid.
“Clay, stay by the car. You scare the kids,” I say as I step out of the back seat.
“Yes, miss,” he agrees. “I’ll be watching from here,” he adds as he steps out of the car and stands beside the driver’s door.
I look up at the worn-down building with bold letters that say “Orphanage.” I’ve always hated this place. It reminds me of a prison, and in many ways, it was for my brother and me. We were handed through two foster families before the old bitch found us. Each one of them said we were too much to handle. Granted, Alek got violent at the last foster home we were in, but that place was beyond full of children. That man deserved every moment of the beating Alek gave him. When I was a teenager, I returned to his home, and he was the first man I’d taken satisfaction in killing for what he had done to me.
I would never fall victim to a man again.
My grip tightens on the briefcase as I cross the road. Same time, same day every month, I come here.
I’m not a good person, but there’s a small relief inside me knowing that all this money I’ve amassed might help a child in the same circumstances as my brother and I once were.
“Anya,” Mikaela says expectantly. She’s second in charge to Lucy, the woman who has run the orphanage for the last thirty years. “Punctual as always.” She opens the door, and I cringe at the thought of stepping into a hall full of children.
“No, thank you. I’ll just drop the money off here,” I say as I hold out the briefcase to her, but she takes a step farther into the hallway.
“Lucy would like to see you briefly, if you have a moment,” she says. I sigh and take my designer sunglasses off and prop them on my head. I handle men like they’re a sport. Surely, I can handle the uncomfortable presence of children.
I slip through the door and follow her down the hall. It’s quiet, and my heels click against the wooden floors. It feels colder in here than outside. So many things haven’t changed here over the years, yet every time I enter, I can see the subtle updates made to the estate. No doubt from my “anonymous” contributions.
As I walk down the hall, I notice a pair of beady eyes peering at me through a door that’s ajar. A young girl watches me. Because that’s not creepy in the slightest.
I’m escorted through to the main reception area and on to Lucy’s office.
I cringe at the sound of a child crying when I step inside. I all but fold into myself as Lucy rocks a baby back and forth. The sixty-year-old woman looks like she hasn’t changed a bit. That doe-eyed affection fills her gaze as she bounces the infant around.
She looks up with a smile. “Anya. It’s been a while since you’ve shown your face. It’s good to see you.”
“Pleasure,” I reply dryly.
She lets out a little laugh, always having found amusement in my dry tone. Yet in some ways, it’s oddly comforting. Despite my spoiled ways as a child, she had always taken time for me and my brother after our parents abandoned us.
“Would you like to hold her?” She offers me the child, and I use the briefcase as a shield.
“Allergic, actually,” I say with disdain.
“Allergic to a baby?” Lucy scoffs and hands the infant over to Mikaela with a smile. I’m relieved when she takes her out of the room.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Lucy says as she begins to pick up the few toys on the floor. She looks pointedly at my ring finger. “Still not married, I see. I’m telling you, Anya, beauty only lasts so long. You need to lock a man down while you still can,” she grumbles as she stands up again, her back stiff.
“Ironic, considering my foster mother has an entirely different opinion about my marital status.” To the old bitch, marriage is a form of weakness.
Lucy seems grim at my mention of Meredith. I’ve always found irony in the way she seems to have an opinion of the old bitch despite handing us over legally to her. But it was better than here.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask expectantly as I walk across the room and place the briefcase with the cash down.
Lucy watches me step away from it with a warm smile. “As prickly as you are, Anya, you’ve always had a big heart. I hope you find someone you can share it with beyond your brother.”
The mention of Alek draws short on my nerves, but I say nothing. She steps around the desk and pulls out the top drawer. I idly look at some of the pictures of children pinned to the wall and the scribbles of disastrous interpretations of elephants.
