Chapter 8 - THE LITTLE GIRL ON THE SCREEN
The baby was fine.
Naomi repeated those words five times before Adrian believed them.
The explosion had frightened her.
Nothing more.
No bleeding.
No contractions.
No injury.
At eighteen weeks, the tiny life inside her remained stubbornly unaffected by the wars adults insisted on creating.
Dr. Warren studied Adrian’s face.
“Mr. Vale, your blood pressure may actually be worse than hers.”
Naomi laughed.
Adrian did not.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Dr. Warren smiled.
“You are going to be exhausting in labor.”
Naomi looked at her.
“Please do not encourage him to attend.”
Adrian turned.
“I’m attending.”
Naomi raised an eyebrow.
He corrected himself.
“If invited.”
“Better.”
Two weeks later came the anatomy scan.
Naomi had been thinking about it for days.
Not because she feared something was wrong.
Because Dr. Warren had asked a question.
Do you want to know the sex?
Naomi did.
Adrian said he did not care.
Naomi knew this was technically true.
Then she caught him reading an article titled SIGNS YOU’RE HAVING A GIRL.
He claimed it opened accidentally.
She did not believe him.
The ultrasound room was dim.
The technician moved slowly.
Brain.
Heart.
Spine.
Hands.
Feet.
Everything appeared normal.
Naomi breathed easier.
Adrian’s hand rested palm-up beside hers.
He no longer reached automatically.
He waited.
Naomi placed her fingers inside his.
He held them gently.
The technician smiled.
“Do you still want to know?”
Naomi looked at Adrian.
He looked at her.
“Yes,” they said together.
The technician turned the screen slightly.
“It looks like you’re having a girl.”
Silence.
Naomi laughed first.
“A girl.”
Adrian stared at the monitor.
The same feared man who could negotiate with union leaders and politicians seemed completely unable to process one tiny sentence.
Naomi squeezed his hand.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
Then shook his head.
“I have no idea.”
The technician laughed.
Naomi smiled.
“You wanted a girl.”
“I wanted healthy.”
“You researched girl symptoms.”
“That was misinformation gathering.”
“Sure.”
He stared at the screen.
A daughter.
The word changed something inside him.
His mother had died when he was twenty-four.
He remembered how she treated the house staff.
Names.
Birthdays.
Families.
She had been the only person in the Vale house his father never frightened.
Adrian had once asked why.
She said,
Because I refuse to let another person decide what kind of person I become.
He had forgotten those words.
Now they returned.
After the appointment, Naomi and Adrian walked along the lakefront.
No guards immediately beside them.
Dante followed at a respectful distance.
Naomi carried the ultrasound envelope.
Adrian carried coffee for both of them.
He had finally learned her order.
Decaf now.
One cream.
No sugar.
“You’re staring at me,” she said.
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“We need a name.”
Naomi laughed.
“We have twenty weeks.”
“That is not much.”
“It is half a year.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at him.
“What names do you like?”
“Your mother’s.”
Naomi slowed.
“Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
Her expression softened.
“My mother would have liked you.”
Adrian’s face changed.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“She watched you make me cry.”
“She also watched me stay too long because I loved you.”
He looked down.
Naomi continued.
“She would have been furious with you.”
“I assumed.”
“But she believed people could change.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Do you?”
Naomi stared toward Lake Michigan.
“I believe people can behave differently.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
“Do you believe I’m changing?”
She took her time.
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“But?”
“There’s always a but.”
He smiled faintly.
Naomi stopped near the railing.
“I don’t know what that means for us.”
“I’m not asking.”
“I know.”
“That might be the most annoying part.”
“What?”
“You’re finally becoming patient after I divorced you.”
“I’m poorly timed.”
She laughed.
Then she touched his cheek.
The movement surprised both of them.
Adrian went completely still.
Naomi had not touched him like that since the hospital.
Her thumb moved once across his jaw.
Then she lowered her hand.
“I miss my husband.”
Pain entered his eyes.
“I’m not him anymore.”
The answer startled her.
Adrian continued.
“At least I don’t want to be.”
Naomi’s throat tightened.
“I think that’s why I miss you.”
Neither moved.
Then Dante approached.
Not quickly.
But enough.
Adrian noticed.
“What?”
“We have confirmation.”
“On?”
“Eleanor.”
Naomi’s body tightened.
Dante kept his voice low.
“She’s in federal custody.”
Adrian stared.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Did she talk?”
“She asked for a deal.”
Adrian almost laughed.
“Of course.”
Dante looked at Naomi.
“She gave them evidence.”
“Against Victor?” Naomi asked.
“Yes.”
“And Adrian?”
Dante hesitated.
Adrian answered.
“Probably.”
Naomi looked at him.
He did not flinch.
“What kind?”
“Things I did before we married.”
“Illegal?”
“Yes.”
“Could you go to prison?”
“Yes.”
Her heart stopped.
Adrian looked toward the lake.
“I knew this was possible when I turned everything over.”
Naomi’s voice became quiet.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
Her anger started.
Then he added,
“Because the investigation was sealed, and because it was my legal information, not yours.”
She stared.
He had learned too well.
“You could have told me you were worried.”
His eyes met hers.
“Yes.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“Terrified.”
Her anger softened.
“Better.”
Adrian looked confused.
She touched his sleeve.
“Not that you’re terrified.”
A faint smile.
“Thank you for clarifying.”
“I mean better that you said it.”
He nodded.
Dante’s phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
Dante turned the screen toward Adrian.
A live security feed from Vale Maritime headquarters.
Victor Salerno stood in the lobby.
Alone.
Hands visible.
Surrounded by police.
Naomi stared.
“He surrendered?”
Dante shook his head.
“No.”
Victor looked directly at a security camera.
Then held up a white card.
Someone zoomed.
Four words were written on it.
ADRIAN. COME HOME ALONE.
Adrian’s face hardened.
Naomi looked at him.
“You’re not going alone.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked toward her.
“I wasn’t agreeing.”
She folded her arms.
“I know.”
Dante sighed.
“Oh, good. We’re doing this again.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Then Victor lifted a second card.
This one carried five words.
ASK HIM WHERE HIS MOTHER DIED.
Adrian stopped breathing.
Naomi turned.
“Adrian?”
He stared at the screen.
His mother had died in a hospital.
That was what Naomi had always been told.
But the expression on his face said something else.
“Where did she die?”
He looked at her.
And for the first time in months, Naomi saw a secret he still had not told her.
May you like
“Calumet.”
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