Page 100 of Remember Me

I search her steadfast eyes. “Skye, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to do your show tonight.”

I survey the dozen or so paintings strewn on the floor. A ten-car pileup, but not a carnage. They all look to be in good shape. I can get them there in time.

Lowering Skye’s hands, I clasp them, lacing my fingers with hers. “I want you to be there with me tonight.”

“Of course, my love.”

Relief laces her soft voice. Her eyes stay on mine, her voice growing stronger.

“Finn, do you still have that dress you bought me to wear that night?”

My mind jumps back to the day I bought it. How excited I was for her to wear it to celebrate her birthday and my good fortune to have landed an agent. That day I met Kayla and she introduced me to the bastard. The irony of it makes my blood freeze over, but maybe it’s all meant to be. After Skye’s alleged death, I gave away all her clothes to a women’s shelter, but I couldn’t part with that sexy red dress. I thought about returning it, but the image of her wearing it kept her alive in my mind. I tell her I still have it.

“I’m going to need it.” A fleeting smile, then her expression grows fierce. “To take the monster down.”

Then, she tells me her plan. Christ. I can’t let her go through with it. She’s out of her mind and I’ll be out ofmymind if I do. It’s way too risky. Her life is at stake.Ourlives, everything we’ve rebuilt. I try to talk her out of it, but there’s no stopping my kick-ass wife. My mind in a frenzy, an idea comes to me—there’s someone I need to call. Back at the house, I frantically search for his business card. Shit. Where the hell did I put it? Shoving open kitchen drawers like a madman, I finally find it hidden under one of Maddie’s paintings on the fridge. I grab my cell phone and dial the ten-digit number on the card, my forefinger gliding across the keypad like a speed skater. There’s no way in hell Skye is going through with this alone. I lost her once. I’m not going to lose her again.

The phone rings and rings and rings. I hear myself curse.C’mon. Pick up your fricking phone.

Finally, just as I’m about to give up, a gruff voice with a heavy Jersey accent, spills into my ear.

“Detective Pete Billings here . . . ”

CHAPTER 61

Skye

Getting the remainder of his paintings to the gallery, Finn leaves the house a little after two p.m. to supervise their installation. The reception begins at six.

I have a couple of hours to get myself ready. He’s sending a car for me at four, allowing two hours to get to West Hollywood in the rush hour traffic.

Alone and on edge, I soak in his sunken bathtub, contemplating my plan. The hot bath does little to calm my nerves. Stepping out, I wrap myself in his fluffy terrycloth robe and proceed to put on my makeup. I’m going heavier than usual—smoky eyes, lots of mascara, and ruby red lips. And extra foundation to cover the faint scar by my eyebrow—a never-ending reminder of that near-fatal night. As I’m applying my lipstick, Maddie bops in. Minus Kangy, she gapes at me.

“Wow, Mommy! You look so different!”

I study myself in the mirror. She’s right.

“What do you think?” I ask after blotting my lips with a tissue.

“Wow! You look like a movie star!”

Magic words. That’s exactly the image I want to project. And it comes along with a well-rehearsed pitch for a show I want to write and star in. The story of my life.

I brush my long hair, which I washed in the morning while showering with Finn. It cascades over my shoulder. My daughter stares at me in awe.

“Sweetie, come. Help me get dressed.” I need the company. My darling daughter will keep me grounded and collected. She’s seen my scars and I told her I was in a car crash. “Like my first mommy,” she said and I replied, “Justlike your first mommy.” When she asked me more about it, I said I didn’t remember. But tonight, that’s going to change. I’m going to find out how the bastard almost killed me and then put him away.

I take a fortifying breath and follow my little girl as she waltzes into Finn’s adjacent bedroom.Ourbedroom.

As I step inside, anxiety revisits me. My sexy red dress is laid out neatly on the bed. Beside it is a lacy black push-up bra and matching thong along with a brand new pair of shiny black stilettos and a small, dressy bag, which I had delivered from a trendy Country Mart boutique. The bag is just big enough to hold my cell phone, credit card, and lipstick.

Maddie studies the array. She focuses on the lace underwear.

“Mommy, you can get your tooshie into those teensy weensy panties?”

As on edge as I am, I can’t help but laugh.