Innocent Milf Ch. 23

Chapter 23

I goggled for a moment, unable to process what I had just heard. Cary's indignant squawk was background noise to blood rushing in my ears.

"Are you kidding me?!" Cary was not-quite-shouting. "Samantha!"

Threesome? Cary had promised Samantha a threesome with me? My brain had vapor-locked like an overheated stock racer. I couldn't respond. Samantha kept that same grin on her face, and I looked back and forth between her and Cary. I had never thought of Samantha in any sort of sexual way before. She was pretty enough--oval face, almond-shaped eyes, straight nose. She could have been Kim Basinger's cousin. Maybe second cousin. She was taller than Cary, but not taller than me.

After a moment, I felt Cary tapping at my shoulder, and I looked towards her in mute astonishment. An expectant expression sat on her features. "Sorry, I think I blacked out for a moment," I joked ruefully. In truth, I had been thinking about what it would be like.

Cary crossed her arms. "Great. You broke my boyfriend."

Samantha chuckled low in her throat. "That didn't sound like a 'no' to me. Your boy-toy seems intrigued, at least."

I frowned at that term again. Cary rolled her eyes. "Why don't you tell us what this is about?"

Samantha took a languid sip of her tea and ran her tongue along her teeth. "You can't have been that wasted," she admonished Cary. She looked over at me, as if including me in a private joke. "She didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. "News to me."

"And me," Cary protested. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

Samantha sighed and twirled her finger suggestively around the rim of her glass. "Remember your first 'night of freedom' away from Eric? Sami, Lana, and I took you to Ladies' Night at Sunny Side Up."

Cary colored. I gathered that this was the strip club to which her friends had taken her the week after her separation. I would have been working that Friday when we Three Musketeers would otherwise normally have had movie night. Cary gave me a glance. "I remember going there and the both of you pushing Cosmopolitan after Cosmopolitan at me. I got pretty bleary."

Samantha snorted. "I guess. Do you remember asking the tousle-haired guy in the mailman outfit if he played any musical instruments?"

Cary had turned so deep scarlet I couldn't help but grin despite my own mild discomfort. Her glance slipped towards me. "Um... sort of. I remember..." she jutted her chin forward defiantly. "I remember I thought he reminded me of Matt."

"Yeah, you told us that, too," Samantha replied with an eye roll. "Then you suddenly got really evasive and started talking about getting back home. We didn't let you."

"I remember I had to get some air and almost threw up, and Lana complained about having to go home, too," Cary said with more certainty. "After that, we mostly sat and chatted and got silly over snacks. You and Lana did a good job of discouraging guys from coming over to our table."

Samantha crossed her legs and bounced a foot slowly. "Mmm-hmmm. Your memory seems to be okay so far. Lana went home, leaving you with me and Sami." She smirked. "Sami immediately started trying to get you to dance with some of the guys that Lana had chased away."

Cary suddenly blanched and gave me a guilty look. "Um. I think I might remember what you're talking about," she muttered. "But we were all tipsy and giggly. And you know I haven't even tried anything with another girl since college."

I filed that tidbit away to ask about later, and cleared my throat. "Not to be pushy, but what are we talking about?"

Samantha grinned. "Your lady friend here promised us both that we had first right of refusal for a threesome once she found somebody new. She threw up her hands and said, 'Why not? I'm never getting involved again, anyway. The only guys I can tolerate right now are either eighteen or too old for me and paunchy.' I called dibs on you if she ever got involved, and Cary got so angry. I thought she was going to splash margarita in my face."

"I should have," Cary grumped. She crossed her arms. "Well, I'm not drunk now, and I say no way." She looked to me for support. "Right?"

I scooted closer to her. "The Geneva Convention specifically invalidated the concept of 'dibs,'" I replied archly. "Flattered, though."

Samantha stared at us both blankly for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Oh my God! You two are so adorable! Look at you!"

I shifted uncertainly and glanced over at Cary, taking her hand. "Is this an in-joke like our Musketeer names?"

Cary shook her head. "Not one that I'm in on."

Samantha wiped a tear from her eye. "Look, I just wanted to pull your leg. But you're both so terribly, seriously in love with each other, it never even occurred to you to do anything but just flat refuse." She touched Cary fondly on the shoulder. "Honey, you know I'm not serious, right? Well, not totally serious. I'm thrilled for you both. I just wanted to get to know Matt a little better if he's going to be with you for the summer."

"Longer than that, I hope," I said without thinking. Then, "Hey, why dibs on me and not Jack? He's the one that girls usually like."

Samantha shrugged. "You seemed like the smarter one. Not that your friend Jack was any dummy, either. Smart boys can learn more quickly how to treat a woman." She narrowed her eyes at me. "You better be treating Cary right."

"Uh... I'm trying," I managed, suddenly abashed. There seemed to have no end of women ready to tell me how I should be treating my new girlfriend. "Money's tight, but I try to do my part."

"I'm not talking about money," Samantha answered. "Cary says you're pretty good in bed. But you better be giving her what she deserves. Or I'm coming in to supervise."

Cary gave me an apologetic look. "I didn't say 'pretty good.' I said 'spectacular.'"

"I guess I'll take it," I said. According to Sascha, she and Jenna talked about Jenna's sex with Jake on a semi-regular basis. Now it sounded like Cary talked about the details of our intimacy with her girlfriends as well. Was this just something I should expect from all my relationships?

Cary noticed my discomfort, and fiddled with her own glass before meeting my gaze again. "Do you really... really not talk about this with your guy friends?"

Samantha had crossed her arms and was looking expectantly at me. Feeling like I was on trial, I shook my head. "With who? Jack? He'd have a stroke. Randy and I don't talk about things like that--we're mostly band buddies. And Ty..." I trailed off for a moment. "We never have before. I didn't know he was into all that free-love stuff before the party." I frowned. "Hey, wait a minute. The party. You got into some pretty hot and heavy stuff with a few girls there. That's been since college."

Cary squirmed. "Goddamn daiquiris," she muttered, but smiled ruefully as Samantha's eyebrows shot up. She twined her arm in mine and looked up at Samantha. "Look, some half-drunk coeds got a little grabby at the sexy party, and I'd had a few. So I gave as good as I got. Mostly. It was just for fun."

Brown eyes bored into both of us intently. Finally, Samantha sat back. "And...?" She looked back and forth between us. "What did you think?"

"Um." Cary stalled. "I think we need more appetizers. Or a waiter. Did you pay them to stay away or something?" Under Samantha's unwavering gaze, she colored. "Okay, I didn't hate it. It was... different. I don't think it's for me most of the time, but it wasn't... icky."

Samantha looked to me, and I realized she wanted my reaction as well. I thought. "I guess... I was surprised. I've never really had thoughts about other guys, but I've heard it's different for girls. I wasn't jealous, if that's what you mean. It was a little hot, but I mostly just wished it was me with Cary." Seeing that something more was expected, I added, "And I agree about the appetizers."

"Full of surprises," Samantha murmured. After a moment, she leaned forward and took Cary's hands again. "My offer stands," she said. "Terry and I have an understanding. If you decide you want to end this summer with..."

"With a bang?" Cary asked, giggling. "Oh my God, Samantha."

Samantha sat back, looking somewhat hurt. "I'm serious. But for now, we can eat. You and I will talk again later. And you, mister," she pointed at me. "I've been hearing your name nonstop for nine months. It's about time I got to know you better. For starters, what on Earth have you done to bring Little-Miss-Painfully-Prudish out of her shell?"

Cary grumbled but settled into her chair, fingers laced. Apparently she was curious to hear my answer, too.

I frowned, stymied. "I'm not sure. We've just been friends. Hanging out and having fun. Playing." I looked over to Cary, who was nodding pensively. "I've always felt sort of protective of her." The interrogation lulled as the waiter approached, and we ordered additional food and drink. It gave me time to think. Why had Cary become more sexually adventurous with me? According to her friends, her own self-descriptions, and even her shitty ex-husband's complaints about her, this was new.

Maybe it was because I was happy to just be with her as Cary. That there was more to us than just animal lust. It gave us solid ground to fall back on, so that it was easier to go 'adventuring' into unknown territory without fear of getting lost. I sipped some Pepsi thoughtfully.

"Feeling protective might explain how you started to fall in love with her," Samantha prodded after a minute. "But it doesn't explain how you turned my friend Cary--who Sami says had to be three sheets to the wind before she would take some fake naughty pictures--into a horny schoolgirl who sleeps with a college boy and apparently fools around with girls, too."

Cary put her glass down with a definite clack on the table. "Look, I told you: that night was special. Different. I don't think I'd let some college students feel me up under normal circumstances. And why don't you ask me why things have changed?"

Samantha gestured with her own glass. "Okay. Why have things changed? Do you have an answer?"

Cary shook her head with a grin. "Not remotely. I just wanted to be asked." She gave me a devilish grin. "But part of it is that Matt makes me feel like I have a future. Like there's something out there ahead of me worth living for. And that makes me want to go exploring. See and do new things."

I couldn't help it, and waggled my eyebrows at her suggestively. Cary almost spit out the sip she had just taken, and Samantha cackled. "I like his sense of humor," she said to Cary, as if I wasn't there. Then, turning to me and seeing my expression, she shook her head. "Sorry. I keep doing that. Calling you a 'boy' and talking about you in the third person. You have no idea what it's been like to be Cary's support through the years."

Cary touched my arm tenderly. "He has some idea."

"Well, the point is, I got used to thinking of guys attached to Cary a certain way." Samantha fixed me with a frank gaze. "I'll do better. Now, we never finished our talk about Gravity's Rainbow."

* * * * *

Cary was finally getting divorced.

I had spent the night tossing and turning, too excited on her behalf to sleep soundly. But in the morning as I had just decided to go for a jog to clear my head, the phone rang. Cary's voice at the other end sounded strained. "Somebody let the air out of my tires last night," she said. "I can call AAA, but it'll take a while, and I might be late to the proceedings."

Mind racing, I pulled on my shoes. "You can take my car. I'll lend it to you and wait with your car at your apartment while AAA comes. I can be there in ten minutes."

Cary thought for a moment. "Okay. I'll give you my apartment key so that you can hang out somewhere comfortable until after I get back." Her voice was slightly more relaxed now. "I'd ask you to stay over, but I have a feeling that the kids will be pretty rattled today, so I should spend the rest of the day with them. Plus it's that time of month, so I'm getting pretty emotional anyway. Perfect timing."

"Of course. Love you. See you soon." I hung up and jogged to my car. I tried not to speed on the way there. Eric. It had to have been her ex-husband. What he hoped to accomplish by making her late I couldn't guess, but it stank like his handiwork. Maybe it was just a last, petty stab at Cary because he was losing his ability to hurt or control her anymore. I frowned more deeply, thinking of his plans to have Cary raped at her own birthday party and his tiny tape recorder outside of her window to spy on her. I couldn't help but suspect something more complicated.

Cary was dressed in what I would have described as "lady lawyer clothing" when I got there. I didn't even know she owned a business skirt and jacket, but I guessed it made sense. She needed to look professional and put-together today, and probably usually wore outfits like that when doing official gallery business. She couldn't be in grubby painting clothes or glamorous evening wear all the time, after all. She gave me a distracted kiss and caught the keys I tossed to her.

"My hero, as always." She ran her hands along my shoulders and smiled appreciatively. She gave me her apartment key. "Don't lose this--my only backup is in Patrick's backpack. And my kid can't keep track of his own socks even when he's wearing them, much less a key."

I pretended to fumble the keys and juggle-tossed them in the air. Cary rolled her eyes and got into my car. After a moment of frowning, she fiddled with the seat and scooted herself forward so she could reach the wheel. "I forget how much taller you are than me sometimes," she said. Giving me one more grateful look, she leaned forward for a kiss. I ran my hand through her hair before letting her settle back into the car and driving away.

I didn't envy her today. Even though the divorce was the last nail in the coffin of her terrible marriage and the go-ahead for us to stop trying to downplay or hide our relationship in public, I had no doubt it would be a stressful morning. Eric would ensure that it was a stressful morning. If Cary's flat tires really were his doing, he had already done so.

I kneeled down and inspected a rear tire, poking at the valve stem. It wobbled unusually. Wiggling it experimentally back and forth, I could see that there was a small incision at its base; not only had the air been let out, but the tire had been stabbed so that even if Cary put air back in her tires, they would leak again. I felt all but certain that this was Eric's doing for now.

But why? I puzzled it over as I sat with my back against the car in the early June heat. Restless, I did some squats and pushups in the parking lot to pass the time. After picking gravel out of my palms, I discarded the notion of doing pushups again, and settled for brooding. What would delaying Cary's arrival to the divorce finalization accomplish? Was there some point of contention that he hoped to push through in his favor in her absence? Maybe it would have just delayed the whole divorce and he had sneaky plans for later?

He must have assumed that Cary would call for a ride. I briefly wondered if he had planned for me to arrive with her--somebody as selfish as he was certainly wouldn't expect anyone to just loan their car out. Perhaps he had schemed for me to show up, and to make some sort of claim in front of the judge about Cary and I sleeping together? I shook my head--that was a pretty wild speculation on my part.

Frustrated, I gave up trying to figure it out. The tow truck arrived, and the driver asked me if I had any preference as to which shop it should be delivered. Stymied, I finally said, "Whatever AAA will pay for, I guess." That seemed to be enough information for him; he wrote down an address and auto shop name and handed it to me on a yellow sheet of paper grimed with a single oily thumbprint.

Relieved not to have to wait outside with Cary's car anymore--I should have pissed before I left home--I walked up the stairs to her apartment. It already felt more like coming home than it had a few weeks ago. Having slept over, cooked, and made love in it, Cary's place felt comfortable. Not exactly like coming home, but closer. I wondered if this was how I would feel about my dorm room in the fall.

I called Jack from her apartment, and chatted with him and Jenna for a moment, catching them up on the situation. "Guess I'm driving us for dress shopping tomorrow, then," Jenna said. I had forgotten that they were doing that. Jack said he'd keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

After making use of Cary's bathroom, I picked up The Mammoth Hunters from her bookshelf and went out onto the small balcony outside of her bedroom, taking a kitchen chair with me to sit in the sun. Opening the sliding glass door made me think of the time Eric had put a tiny tape recorder out here to try to catch her having an affair. The day Cam had kissed her. The day I had broached the idea of a relationship between us. Had it only been a month? Not even quite that. It seemed like longer.

I was so absorbed in skimming through the book to get some further ideas for my surprise--not long to go now--that at first I didn't recognize that anything was out of place. I was hoping that Jondalar the Cro-Magnon wasn't such a total dope in this book when I heard footsteps. It took me until I heard a key click in the lock of Cary's front door that I realized that it was way too soon for Cary to be back yet. Unless the judge had simply told Eric "You stink" and had Cary sign the paperwork.

I slowly stood and peered inside. Two men had entered the apartment, their heads swiveling. One of them I was pretty sure I recognized as one of Eric's coworkers from Cary's birthday party. I almost burst into the apartment, yelling. But since they hadn't seen me, I pressed myself against the wall of the balcony and listened.

"I'll check the bedroom and bathroom. You look in the main room and kitchen." As the first of the two men spoke, I ran through scenarios in my head. What would happen if I did leap out? If they didn't run, they might attack. I was confident I could take one guy, but not two; I was unarmed, and who knew what their situation was.

"Jeez, look at all these paintings. Did she do them all herself?" The guy sounded impressed. "I knew she did the one in our lobby at work, but I kind of thought that Eric just got management to throw her a bone as a favor."

The other voice floated from further away. "I found some sketchbooks. There's a few sketches in here of what look like those two teenagers she hangs out with, but that's hardly a smoking gun. Huh. This lady sure likes her history. Half the sketches in here look like they're from Jeremiah Johnson."

"Never saw it." The other voice was getting closer. The sounds of light shuffling filled a tense few moments as the pair clearly sifted through papers--maybe her mail. I could hear clothing being rummaged as if they were going through her laundry. A frustrated sigh. "This is bullshit. There's nothing here. No names, no incriminating hotel receipts, no guy's clothes. No proof. And the longer we stay, the more likely she comes back."

The second voice chuckled nastily. "If she were alone, that wouldn't be a problem. I bet Eric would be happy enough for us to teach her some respect."

The first voice snorted. "That's how you get threatened by some psycho kid with a knife. Didn't you hear what happened to Mike at the party a few months ago?"

"I heard that he was wagging his dick around where he wasn't supposed to," came the reply. "He signed an affidavit. Act like a moron, and it'll bite you in the ass someday. What kind of dipshit believes a line like 'My wife likes to be forced. Just ignore her if she pretends to resist.' Hey, try on the bookshelf. There's some papers wedged in there."

Finally, a voice from close by--probably in her bedroom--said, "Nothing in here, either. Hey, is this an old Atari? My younger brother had one of these. Look, I told Eric she wasn't going to just leave a schedule of her affairs out for us to find. God knows he never does."

"Well, this favor clears us for that snafu in accounting in October. After this, he'll just have to do what he's always threatening to, and hire a real private investigator." The second guy's voice echoed from the kitchen. "She's probably not even having an affair. Although hell, we know she was with somebody a couple of weeks ago. She didn't come back here the whole night--or at least, not until after 2am. That's when I called it quits."

"You're lucky--you just had to wait in the parking lot and watch. I had to go pick up Eric from halfway into the desert. He called from a payphone at the edge of town. Completely shitfaced--could barely walk. I don't know how he managed to drive out there without getting arrested." The first guy chuckled bitterly. "Kept ranting on about the knife kid again."

"Jesus." The second voice was exasperated. "What is his obsession?"

"You know Eric. If he can't have it, he wants it twice as much. Just like with Sandra from HR. He likes to bully people, and I think this knife-guy just doesn't give a damn about him. Apparently Eric showed up drunk at this kid's graduation party, certain that his wife was there, and the kid told him to fuck off."

"Did he see her there? Or is this another one of his paranoid delusions?" I could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"Who the hell knows? He's right just enough of the time that you can't always blow him off." The front door creaked open. "All I know is that he's out of 'favors' from me--and I'm pretty sure with most of the folks he's blackmailed at the office. So now his personal mission to get the kid kicked out of college or fired or whatever will have to be done solo."

My heart was racing. At least one of these guys must have missed seeing Cary leave for Ty's party by a matter of minutes before waiting all night to catch her in the act. And the fact that Eric was still plotting to sabotage me was disquieting.

"Wait!" The voice made me jump. "Don't forget the key! Make sure it's in the kid's room so it looks like he just lost it."

"We're not giving it back to Eric?"

Nasty laughter. "Nah, screw 'im. I'm sick of him, too. You know he came over and waited in her apartment a week or so ago before he got cold feet and left? No idea what he was planning, but it probably wasn't nice. And if it comes down to it, I don't want to be an accessory to assault or whatever."

Beyond the cold wave that had smashed into me at hearing that Eric had just come and waited in her apartment one day, I smirked bitterly. I had been right--even his accomplices couldn't stand him. Sudden inspiration struck me. I looked over the balcony. I was pretty sure I could lower myself down and have a large, but not necessarily dangerous drop. Possessed by teenage arrogance and a sudden sense of indestructibility, I swung over the wooden railing. Lowering myself down until I was holding the floor with my fingertips, I glanced over my shoulder. My feet were still dangling six feet off the ground.

I dropped and hit hard, knocking the wind out of me. I scrambled to my feet and started sprinting; for this to work, I needed to make it to the entrance of the apartment building before those two guys did. My lungs were burning and I had nearly twisted my ankle, but I got to the parking lot and took a few deep breaths, willing my facial expression to dopey innocence.

The door opened, and the two conspirators walked out. I glanced up at them as if I had just been walking in from the parking lot. The guy I had recognized from the party froze, eyes going slightly wider. I grinned at him gormlessly, before pretending to be stricken by sudden recognition. "Hey, you were at my friend Cary's birthday party!"

He looked trapped, and the second guy scratched the back of his hand nervously. They couldn't have looked any guiltier if they tried. I decided to twist the knife a little. "Who knew you lived in the same apartment? Hey, somebody punched some holes in her tires, so I had to loan her my car while a tow truck came. It wasn't you guys, was it?" I made it sound like a joke, even though I was pretty sure I was right on the money.

The second guy went pale. The one in front--the one I recognized--shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about! I've never met you before in my life!"

"Oh, c'mon! I was one of the knife-fighting guys at Cary's birthday party, remember? You probably just don't recognize me because I'm dressed in regular clothes instead of leather fringe." I frowned, as if in thought. "You must work with her ex-husband, huh? He's a sneaky piece of work. Do you know I accidentally walked in on him cheating with his mistress at that party? What a jerk."

The back guy barked a nervous laugh. "Sounds like Eric, all right." He nudged his colleague, who looked murderously angry at having his cover blown. "This must be the friendly dumb one."

I shook my head and narrowed my eyes. "Nope. I'm the psycho stabby one. And I can't help but wonder if either of you had a piece of paper with a number on it that night. Because Mike was only number one, and I was ready to kill him and go to jail. Are you sure you didn't punch holes in my friend's tires?"

"You're out of your fucking mind, kid," snapped the first guy, sweating buckets. He straightened his back and walked past me, eyes sliding sideways.

I sat on the steps as the two started moving away. "Hey," I called, "You guys are just tools to him. You know that, right? Eric might have accomplices, but Cary has friends. Tossing your lot in with that that guy is a bad investment." I was pretty proud of having come up with that analogy off the cuff.

I watched them get into a black Buick Skylark and drive away. I waited a few minutes to make sure I didn't see them again. Then I went back up to Cary's apartment, shaking. I looked at the key she had given me--printed clearly on the face were instructions not to duplicate it. Finding the second key that the intruders had dropped in Patrick's room, I saw that it had the same message and breathed a sigh.

At least a reputable locksmith wouldn't have copied another one for Eric. Still, I intended to tell Cary about everything and to suggest she get her locks changed. It was hard not to run through scenarios in my head about why Eric had been in waiting in her apartment last week. Had he been hoping to catch us again? A cold chill prickled my skin--maybe he had been planning to force Cary. It didn't seem beyond him. And maybe he thought that if he got her pregnant he could keep her trapped in their marriage.

I shook my head. These sorts of wild hypotheses would only make me angry and anxious. I wondered if I had done the right thing in trying to creep those guys out. Too late to worry about it, now. I needed to talk to my boss at Disc Diver's Delight and tell him to keep an eye out for somebody matching Eric's description. I made a quick call with Cary's phone and let him know the brief outlines of what was up.

My heartbeat and breathing had finally settled when Cary and her kids returned. I restrained myself from hugging her in front of her kids, but Cary surprised me by leaping at me and giving me a bear hug as soon as her purse was on the table. I hugged her back, uncertain how intimate to be with this audience. Cary smiled brilliantly, he face awash in relief. "It's done. No contest. You were a lifesaver."

Her kids followed her into the apartment, looking far less traumatized than I would have expected, given that their parents had just finalized a divorce. "Wash up," Cary instructed, and Annie and Patrick disappeared into the bathroom, squabbling about who would go first.

"Your tires were deliberately punctured," I whispered. "Eric sent two of his coworkers here to rummage around and look for proof of cheating again."

"How--"

"Eric must have taken the key out of Patrick's backpack. They didn't see me in the apartment, but I gave them a little scare on their way out." My voice shook a little with anger. "He sneaked into your apartment while you were gone last week. He's not gonna leave you alone until he's in prison."

"Ssshhhh," Cary placed a soothing hand on my cheek. "It's all right. One day at a time. The kids and I are going to meet Sami so that Patrick and Melanie can play together and have a sense of normalcy. They're taking it well now, but I expect things to be a little rough before we go to the Rendezvous."

I risked a quick kiss and then backed away. I gave her the receipt for her car; I had written the address for the place it had been towed. "Let me know if you need a ride to pick up your car when the tires are fixed. Or replaced. Or whatever."

"Matt, you should have seen him. He looked so angry when I got there on time. He immediately started whispering things to his lawyer, who just sat there and shook his head. Eric arranged for the tire damage, I just know it." Cary grinned. "But it didn't end up helping him at all."

I shrugged. "Guess not. Because otherwise, I wouldn't have been here to hear everything those two creeps said. Oh. It sounds like Eric is planning to hire a private investigator. Whether to stalk you or me or both, I couldn't tell."

Cary sighed. "It actually wouldn't be the first time. It'll be all right. I love you, and thank you."

I waved as Patrick burst out of the bathroom, hands still wet from washing them. He grinned. "The carpet in your car has a hole in it! I made it bigger with my toe."

"Oh." I tried not to look too pained. "Uh, thanks for the heads-up."

Annie looked at me seriously--she seemed to do that a lot. Then she held out a hand with a dried, dead flower in it. Who knows where she had gotten it. I raised an eyebrow. "Is this for me?" She nodded silently. I grinned. "What should I do with it?"

"Don't eat it," Annie answered flatly. "It might be poison. Keep it for later."

I left Cary's apartment feeling mixed emotions--Eric was still probably going to try to stalk me. Or us. But Cary was free. And her kids seemed to be taking things in stride. Rendezvous was in only a few days, and I was going to make sure we both left my tent with a slight limp every morning.