Cruel Paradise - A Mafia Romance Chapter 107

EMMA

Honk-shoo-honk-shoo-mimimi.

I never thought I’d be grateful for Reagan’s silly little snore.

But right now, it’s giving me life.

It’s giving me hope.

It’s giving me something to focus on apart from the terrifying, panicked weight that’s parked itself on my chest and is getting heavier by the minute.

I check my watch. It’s been twenty-two minutes and Josh still hasn’t come out of the bathroom. That’s making me nervous, too. If you saw the bathroom in this motel room, you’d know why. It’s not the kind of place anyone voluntarily chooses to spend significant time in.

Pretty sure I spotted bloodstains in the tub earlier. I tried to cover them up with the depressing shower curtains that might’ve been yellow in their heyday but are now a sad, sickly brown.

Long story short: this motel looks like death, smells like depression, and I need to get the kids out of here as soon as I possibly can.

Click. The door opens.

Oh, thank God!

“Josh,” I whisper. “You okay?”

He doesn’t really meet my eyes and I can tell why: he’s been crying. His eyes are puffy, his cheeks are creased, and he’s got that tired, far-off look that he had the day of Sienna’s funeral.

I’m sitting at the foot of the empty single bed that Josh and I will be sharing tonight. I pat the rough brown carpet next to me and Josh shuffles his feet over.

“I know this is hard. I know this isn’t fair. But I wouldn’t be doing it if we had any other choice, Josh. You know that, right?”

His bottom lip quivers. “I know why we have to leave Dad,” he whispers. “But I was kinda hoping…” He doesn’t finish his sentence and I’m relieved. Talking about Ruslan makes me want to burst into tears. At least I have the excuse of hormones to fall back on.

I’m not pining; it’s just the hormones. Biology. Completely out of my hands.

I take his hand and he leans a little closer to me. “We have to try and do this by ourselves, okay, hon? It’ll be hard at first but, with a little imagination, maybe this can actually be the adventure I promised the girls.”

He raises his eyebrows as if to say, You poor delusional lady, what dream world are you living in? “Rae and Caro are gonna freak out when they realize that we’re not ever going back home. They’ll miss their bunk beds and Connie’s Creamery and the park.”

“I know. God, I know. It’s gonna be hard for all of us. That’s why we need to be strong.”

He leans his head against my arm. “Aunt Emma?”

“Yes.”

“I hate this place.”

I almost smile. “Me, too.”

“I think there’s blood in the tub.”

My stomach twists. “It’s tomato sauce.”

He picks his head up and looks at me with that expression on his face again. The crazy lady expression. Geez, I really thought I’d have another decade at least before I started getting that look from the kids.

“Okay, it might not be tomato sauce, but for the sake of my sanity and a peaceful sleep tonight, let’s pretend it is, deal?”

At long last, he gives me a half-smile. “Deal.”

We pinky swear on that one and Josh’s head comes to rest back down on my arm. I know he’s falling asleep when his weight starts sinking into my side. I can’t carry him on my own anymore but I do manage to sleep-walk him to the bed.

I crawl in next to him, propped up against the one hard pillow that came with this place and close my eyes to drift off into a peaceful REM cycle.

Who the hell am I kidding? I’m not gonna get a peaceful sleep tonight.

Maybe not ever again.

I’m trying to skip town with three confused children. I’m essentially kidnapping them. If Ben decides to be an uber-douche and press charges, I could be facing jail time.

Sienna’s voice trickles in through my ear. They can’t put you in jail if they can’t find you.

I’m not exactly making it very difficult. I mean, I’m still in New York, for God’s sake. I went to freaking Walmart today. I’m still driving the same old Chevy with the same old license plate. All Ben would have to do is give the cops my plate number and they’d have this motel surrounded by sunrise.

The sedan kidnappers didn’t have a license plate at all. They were thinking ahead.

I grimace. You know you’ve hit a new low when you’re taking kidnapping tips from the men who tried to steal your nephew.

I’ve put my phone on silent, so I don’t hear anything apart from a subtle vibration on the shared bedside table between the beds. But then it lights up, throwing an eerie shadow up onto the ceiling.

PHOEBE: Everything okay?

EMMA: Think I’m on the verge of a very real panic attack.

PHOEBE: What’s wrong?

EMMA: Gee, let’s see… my life is falling apart at the seams and I have no idea how to hold it all together.

EMMA: Why did I think I could do this, Pheebs? I’m a basket case. All three kids are gonna need intensive, lifelong therapy because of me.

PHOEBE: Em, they lost their mother young and their father is Ben. They were gonna need intensive therapy anyway.

PHOEBE: What’s the alternative anyway? Stay in New York and let Ben walk all over you or spend the next three years in court only to lose custody of those kids to that bastard in the end?

She’s not wrong and it does help to put things in perspective. It doesn’t stave off the panic but it makes my path forward clear.

Of course I have to leave. There’s nothing left for us in New York City anymore. Whatever I did have, I lost.

No job.

No sister.

No Ruslan…

EMMA: I love you, Pheebs.

PHOEBE: Love you, too, badass.

I put my phone away and stare at the suitcases piled in the corner. Every time a shadow passes by the windows, a shiver runs down my spine.