Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Dillon looked at whatever was on the computer screen and nodded his approval. That gave me hope. Obviously, whatever website Dillon had accessed had given him the information he wanted. And “serial killer” hadn’t popped up in response to Mike’s name. But even if Mike had been convicted of a violent offense, I wouldn’t have believed it. He was sweet and goofy and gentle to a fault. I knew there was more to the story, and I wanted to hear it. Mike had said he was willing to tell me the whole truth, if only I would let him.
Macy read the screen and nodded to her husband. “Have you told Mike the other thing?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how to tell him, especially now.”
“Go home and talk to him. Let him explain and tell him what’s going on.”
I drew in a deep breath. The whole night I had been obsessing about Mike’s prison record. What had he done? Would he do it again? Had he been framed? I was seriously considering that last question because my knowledge of Mike didn’t include anything sketchy or underhanded. Maybe he got in a bar fight. Maybe he had flirted with a prostitute unknowingly and later found out she was an undercover officer. I stopped myself right there. I could imagine things all day long, but it wouldn’t get me closer to the truth. I thanked Dillon and Macy for letting me stay and agreed to go back to my cabin that night.
I drove to work, trying to keep my mind off Mike. Had he stolen something? Maybe it was a white-collar crime, and he was in for tax evasion or insider trading. That didn’t track. In all the weeks I had known him, Mike hadn’t once brought up investments or banking. I made another attempt to convince myself to let it go, without success. When I pulled up outside the Wood Rose Salon, I was imagining Mike in a suit and tie at a country club discussing his latest shady business deal.
“You look awful,” Lindsey said as soon as I walked in the door.
“I slept on a cot,” I said.
“Well, here, sit down.” She patted her client chair.
I sat obediently. Lindsey spritzed my hair with water and began combing it out. “Why did you sleep on a cot?”
“Mike and I had a fight.”
“What about?”
I inhaled, remembering diner with Mike’s parents and all the fallout. “Mike’s been to prison. But he didn’t tell me. And he wouldn’t tell me the whole story, so I spent the night at Macy’s.”
Lindsey plugged in the hair dryer. “Why was he in prison?”
“I don’t know. I think Dillon knows. He looked it up on some website.” I felt the hot air of the dryer on my scalp. “I don’t think it’s fair to snoop on him, so I asked them not to tell me.”
“Have you told Mike about the baby?”
I shook my head, throwing Lindsey off her game.
She turned the hair dryer off. “You can’t keep a secret and be mad at Mike for keeping a secret. His may be about the past, but yours is about the future, and that makes it so much bigger.”
“I know,” I said. “I just really like him. I mean, I’m scared of how much I like him. And I don’t want to frighten him away.”
“If he’s the person you think he is, he won’t abandon you and the child.” She turned the dryer back on and began to fluff my hair.
I sat in silence until she finished, watching my reflection in the mirror transform from “girl who slept in a laundry room” to “young professional.” Lindsey had just finished with me when the door chimes sounded, and our first customer walked in. I hopped out of the chair and raced to the reception desk.
“One of the perks of working here?” the client guessed.
“Always.” I winked. “I have the best hair in town.”
My stomach was tied up in knots all day. Not only did I have morning sickness to contend with, but I had a sinking feeling that I had treated Mike poorly. I tried to put myself in his shoes. If I had a criminal history, I might not be so eager to share. What if the details were painful or traumatic for him? I knew nothing about prison except what I had seen on television, and that made it seem like a scary place. I hated to think of sweet, accommodating Mike locked in a cell without sunlight. I couldn’t wait to go home, throw my arms around him, and tell him I loved him. I only hoped it wasn’t too late.
When I pulled up to the house, his truck was in the driveway. I turned off the engine and sat still for a moment, thanking my lucky stars that I had caught him. I was going to make the best of this opportunity. I wouldn’t push him for details he wasn’t willing to give, and I would tell him about the baby. I had to. I got out of the car and walked slowly toward the door. My thoughts were running a mile a minute. Would Mike be angry with me for storming out? Would he turn a cold shoulder and suggest that we part ways? I rested my hand on the doorknob for a moment before turning it and stepping inside.