Leanne stuffed the money into Violet's hands, then withdrew her hands back into her pockets, her posture exuding a sense of distance.
“Granny never wanted you to marry Carl. You went ahead against her wishes, and look how much you've suffered. I hope you’ve figured things out by now.”
“Your son’s already a junior in college, a fully capable adult. He can work part-time to support himself. You don’t have to keep supporting him while struggling with your severe back injury.”
Violet’s eyes reddened again, and she wiped away tears with the back of her hand, overwhelmed by either embarrassment or sorrow.
Leanne said, “The place you're living in now isn't safe, and it's in a bad neighborhood. Plus, with your back, you need to get treated as soon as possible. If you want to divorce Carl, I can help you find a better place to stay. You need to start taking care of yourself first.”
Violet couldn’t stop crying, choking on her words, unable to speak.
“When you’ve made up your mind, come find me.”
Leanne didn’t linger; after her final words, she turned and left.
The car was waiting at the door. As Leanne got in, Curtis was sitting with crossed legs, his expression somewhat listless, lost in thought.
Curtis looked away from the window, “You finished talking with your aunt?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t say more, just motioned for Jake to drive, taking Leanne back to Golden Grove Manors.
Once home, Leanne showered first. When she emerged, Curtis was still there.
He stood on the balcony, phone in hand with an unlit cigarette, just rolling it between his fingers.
His gaze fixed on the distant night, the watery darkness casting a pall over his handsome features.
Hearing footsteps, he turned, ended his call, and said, “Carl’s gone missing. The doctors and nurses didn't see when he left; must’ve bolted as soon as he woke.”
He was really trying hard to dodge his debts.
Leanne’s hair was slightly damp, and the breeze on the balcony fluttered her sea-green silk nightgown.
Curtis stepped inside, shutting the sliding door and keeping the wind out.
Leanne was frowning, thinking about how to deal with Carl’s situation. Curtis tossed the abused cigarette into the trash:
“Why didn’t you call me last night? They arrived just after I left; why didn’t you call me back?”
A slight sting touched Leanne's nose, and she stubbornly said, “You’re so eager to help, why don't you go save the world and get the police to give you a medal?”
Curtis replied, “By keeping a brilliant doctor safe, I’m indirectly saving the world.”
“I’ve never bragged that much myself.”
After muttering, Leanne raised her arms, embracing his sturdy waist, unusually conciliatory after their argument, “Next time I won’t call the cops. I’ll call you, okay?”
The slight unease in Curtis' heart seemed to dissolve like tissue paper at her words.
He wrapped his arms around her freshly washed, fragrant waist, his heart softened, about to kiss her when Leanne turned her face away and slipped out of his arms, climbing under the covers to rest.
She wriggled into the blankets like an eel. “You better go now, or you’ll start getting allergies again.”
The cat also jumped on the bed, comfortably settling on the other half of the pillow.
A woman and a cat were both giving him their big-eyed stare.
Curtis couldn’t help but laugh.
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back (Leanne Castillo)
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