Page 122 of Songs for Libby

Randy: I know, but I still can’t help.

Me: That’s it? After everything, you’re really just going to say nothing?

Randy: I have to answer to the boss, Libby. I really am sorry.

Me: Is he at least okay?

Randy: Okay enough to give me orders, and I have to listen.

Me: I really hate you sometimes.

Randy: I know, kid. Hang in there.

Randy calling me “kid” in no way improved my mood, and I was seething by the time Nick walked in to check on me.

I spoke before he was able to say anything. “Do you swear that you don’t know where he is?”

“I swear. I don’t know his location. I’ve asked many times and he won’t tell me.”

I sniffed in derision. “Is he still paying you? I’d hate for you to be working for free.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m covered.”

“Great.” That word rang with a hollow quality. Nothing was great.

I stood, leaving the guest house and the folder full of songs behind.

I had to find dinner. I had to eat and drink. I had to take care of myself so that I could take care of my baby. This was the end of day one without Sean. How many would there be?

♪♫♪

There was no need for me to be standing watch over Joanie’s crib, humming away. She wasn’t prone to waking up once she’d fallen asleep, but still I kept humming, preparing to sneak out as quietly as possible. Maybe it was a control thing. My life consisted of unstable chaos right now, and making sure that Joanie remained asleep was something that felt within my control.

Even over the sound of my humming, I heard the car that approached the house. The noise was out of place, which was probably why I noticed it. There were very few people who would be able to get through my gate. It must be someone Nick knew and trusted.

Louisa? Debbie? Naomi hadn’t gone out for anything, had she?

Moving carefully to the window, I pushed the curtain aside to see who it was. A car was pulling around the circle drive, the door popping open even before it had come to a complete stop.

Sean. Sean stepped out of the car. I sucked in a quick burst of air through my nose and then my insides froze, unable to even react as Sean loped up the steps and disappeared from my view.

The doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by pounding on the door.

I didn’t move. There was a part of me that wanted to fulfill the romance movie cliché and go running down the stairs, throwing the door open before flinging myself into his waiting arms. But it seemed my life had snuffed most of the romanticism out of me some time ago. The pounding came again, but I was still stuck in front of that window—wanting to believe he was here to stay, wanting to yell at him for all he’d put me through. The movies were wrong. Leaping into his arms wasn’t going to fix what he had broken.

The sound of the front door opening was followed by murmured voices. Probably Naomi.

Maybe he would push his way past her and come running up here to find me, bursting through the door. If he did, he’d wake up Joanie, and hell hath no fury like a mother whose infant has just been woken up.

The faint creak of my bedroom door opening reached my ears, followed by Naomi’s whispered question. “Libby?”

I couldn’t find my voice to respond.

“Sean is here.” She sounded the way I felt. Confused. Not sure how she was supposed to feel about the news.

“Okay.”

“I made him wait downstairs. I wasn’t sure you would want to see him.”