Page 78 of Heaven Help Me

“Are you going to tell me where we’re headed?” I ask as we sail right out of town and in the opposite direction of home.

He’s so damn smug when he answers. “Nope.”

I glare at the side of his face, but it doesn’t faze him. “I hope the fleas of a thousand camels infest your body and may your arms be too short to scratch.”

He gapes at me, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Wow. That was…very descriptive.”

I nod, trying to act like a simple surprise isn’t messing with my head. “I’m pretty proud of myself for that one.”

Thing is, surprises used to get me or my men killed. Yes, I know I’m in Heaven now and I left that life behind, but old habits die hard. Thankfully, I don’t have that long to wait. Deuce pulls into a small bed-and-breakfast just outside the town limits. Betsy and Mary London are standing on the front porch, the latter going absolutely wild waving and jumping up and down like I’m Taylor Swift arriving for a friendly tea party. Betsy gives me a simple head nod.

“What is going on?” I say, staring at my two friends in bewilderment.

Deuce puts the car in park and swivels my direction. “I booked you a relaxing weekend with girlfriends. Spa appointments have been made for you all.”

“I repeat: what is going on?”

Deuce’s face goes all soft, his eyes seeing into my soul. I hate when he does that. “I know you’re not used to having friends, but this is what women do. They have girls’ nights out and weekend trips to spas. I want you to experience that. And I think a little relaxation would be good for you.”

I slump back against the seat, mind spinning. I’m not sure if I’m happy about this plan being put into action without my input or consent, but then, on the other hand, it does sound quite nice.

“Let me take care of you,” Deuce whispers, squeezing my hands.

I nod. I don’t want to disappoint him or my friends. I think I just need to learn how to receive a gift. One I don’t deserve and did nothing for. Deuce is doing something nice for me just because. It makes me uncomfortable, but maybe that’s my sign to lean into it.

“Okay,” I answer simply.

So I get out and greet my friends, enjoying a weekend getaway, even if it feels a bit bizarre. We laugh, drink wine, eat dessert before dinner, tell stories, cry a few times, and enjoy spa services so relaxing I cry again. Each time, they wrap their arms around me and let me wail nonsense, blubbering like a little baby. I mutter something about catching up for lost time when it comes to crying and they nod and smile like I’m not an absolute freak.

Somehow I wake up on Sunday morning more rested than I’ve ever been. I’m not sure I even want to leave this little cocoon of friendship, not even to go home to Deuce. Mary London left last night, saying her boobs were killing her and she had to go feed the baby. Betsy left a few minutes ago, saying she needed to meet up with Silas and Harlow at church.

I take my time getting ready since checkout isn’t until eleven and that’s when I expect Deuce to pick me up. A knock on the door at ten has all those old prickles of fear and distrust creeping up my spine. I peek through the hole in the door and see the owner, a sweet old lady with more wrinkles than years left.

“Hello,” I greet her suspiciously after I open the door.

She gives me a smile so bright I can see why her bed-and-breakfast has stayed in business so long. “Good morning, Ms. Ricci. I have a special delivery for you.”

She picks up a fancy bag next to the door and hands it to me. I take it, wondering what in the world this could be. Then she hands me a thick cream envelope.

“Make sure you read that, honey.” She claps her hands together under her chin and lets out a little squeal. “Enjoy your special day!”

I watch her walk away, confusion and a growing sense of unease trying to wipe away a perfect weekend. I shut the door, lock it, then double-check the lock before I have a seat on the bed. The envelope pops open and I pull out a single sheet of thick cream paper. The sight of Deuce’s handwriting instantly has my nerves receding again.

My dear Valentina,

No weekend is complete without a little fun, just like my life is not complete without you. I know you’re rolling your eyes right now, but please indulge me. Just this once. No crazy surprises, no danger, I promise. Just follow the directions to receive your gift.

Deuce

PS - No, the gift is not me, but it should be.

PPS - Stop wishing death upon me and follow the directions.

A small sheet of paper is behind the cardstock, more of his slashy handwriting across the middle.

Laundering happens here, but not the type you’re familiar with.

I let out a bark of laughter, knowing instantly where I’m going. I pull open the gift bag, open the white box inside, and pull open the tissue paper to see a deep purple dress that has straps up top and a skirt that flares out from the cinched waist. The material is soft like the finest silk, and I can tell it cost a fortune. I put it on, along with a pair of nude kitten heels with white and purple flowers across the toe.