But I need more specific information right now.
“What about, um, special places?” I suggest gently, wondering if the change in subject is too abrupt. “Like … your guys’ first kiss? Or … the hospital where you had me? Anything like that?”
Tess looks askance at me, like she’s not sure where I’m coming from with this. Her guilt must win out though because after a moment of thought, she decides to answer.
“First kiss?” she asks, thinking on the subject for a moment. “Well, not that I want to encourage this sort of behavior or anything, but Justin and I used to sneak into the prop room of the theater to make out.” Tess gives a mischievous little smile at the memory and then frowns hard.
Meanwhile, there I sit, hyperventilating and wondering if we’ve just stumbled on the key to finding Parrish.
Places.
Places that matter to Tess and Justin, specifically.
“As for the hospital you were born in, it was actually a birthing center called Medina Mothers and Infants. I had a midwife and a water birth.” This time, when she smiles, it’s much more real than when she was reminiscing about Justin. “I love that you’re asking me these questions actually. In the beginning, I dreaded it. But now, my only regret is that we can’t have this conversation under more ideal circumstances.”
She wants to talk about the reasons why I shouldn’t go with Justin.
And I’m going to have to sit here and listen to all those very valid reasons and then still insist that I go with him. After rejecting Tess, after rejecting this easy but sanitized life she was offering, only to embrace a man that I’ll have been warned about in advance.
Not a good look for me.
Once again, Justin has carefully arranged everything so that I look like the bad guy. So that my relationships with everyone around me suffer and fray. Fuuuuck.
Also, I need more places. A diner, a theatre, and a midwifery center will not solve this puzzle. Likely, it’s going to be something more personal, much harder to dig out of Tess. Say, the first place they had sex. Or the place where I was conceived. The place they were married.
I need all of that info, and I need it now.
“Dakota, when I first started seeing Justin, he was attentive and kind. He lavished me with gifts and attention. But over time—particularly after we were married—he became abusive. In small ways at first, like controlling where I went or what friends I was allowed to hang out with. Later, the abuse became physical. He hit me. He … he …” She trails off and puts a hand to her throat, staring down at the floor with glassy eyes. My own throat closes up, and I feel like I could scream.
I don’t want to go to lunch with the bastard tomorrow. I really don’t want to acknowledge that we share DNA. But I have to. I have to make hard choices here.
“He raped me. Marital rape is a real thing, you know?” she says, as if she needs to justify that or explain herself to me.
“I know that it is,” I whisper, and then I find myself reaching out and putting a hand on her arm. “I believe you.”
She sags slightly in relief, and then covers my hand with her own.
“When you were a baby, he would jerk you around so roughly that you had bruises. Dakota, I left him because he was turning into a monster before my very eyes.” Tess turns fully around to look me in the face, clasping my outstretched hand in both of hers. “He was escalating every single day. He gave me little choice.”
Little choice.
A phrase I’ve been uttering myself so much as of late.
I bite my lower lip, think about Maxx, despise myself yet again for doing so.
“Maybe he’s changed?” I offer up, choking on the words, hating myself for that, too. Seems to be one of Justin’s tactics here, to make me hate myself. It’s working, too, even though I know he’s doing it, and I hate that, too. I hate it so goddamn much. “I didn’t give you a chance when we first met. Don’t I owe him an opportunity to show me his true colors?”
I feel disgusting even saying that. But the directive was clear: Tell them you want to come with me. Beg them. Scream. Do whatever you have to do.
“He hasn’t changed a bit,” Tess says with a barking laugh. “Using Parrish’s disappearance to market his new app? Barging in here with a court order from a buddy of his. He’s exactly the same. Worse, actually, because he had to fall and crawl his way back to the top.” She narrows her eyes, staring down at the comforter instead of my face. “He was arrested for embezzlement, stripped of his position in his own company. When I took him to court for a divorce and then later, a restraining order, word got around town. He was driven out of Medina with pitchforks, broke and alone. My very last act as his wife was to have him committed, but it didn’t last long. He’s a very convincing actor.” She lifts her dark gaze up to mine, and my breath catches.
