Crossed: Chapter 39

I KNEW CADE WOULD COME LAST NIGHT.

The same way I know I need to stay away from him entirely. After last night…it’s too risky. I don’t trust myself, and the last thing I want to do is have Parker find out.

I have to stay away.

This strange connection that’s threaded us together since the very beginning is gaining strength like a torpedo, and the only way to survive it is to sever it completely.

He can only be the priest of Notre- Dame.

That’s all he’ll ever be.

Dalia’s arms are heavy as they wrap around my middle, squeezing tight like she’s afraid to let me go. I’m at the apartment, having just loaded the last box into the back of her car to haul over to my new penthouse.

She’s nervous to stay here alone after that rock crashed through our window, but she’s so stubborn she’ll never admit it. I try to convince her not to stay anyway, even though I’m more convinced than ever it was Cade.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” I push one last time.

She scoffs, waving me off, but I know she’s putting on a front. You live with someone long enough and you learn to read between the lines.

“You can come stay at the hotel if you want,” I try, like I have a thousand times before.

She pulls back and makes a funny face, scrunching her nose. “Amaya, stop.”

“Parker said he’d take care of my family, and you are my family.” I move my hands down her arms and squeeze her fingers.

“And miss the chance to have this place all to myself on your new hubby’s dime?” She scrunches her nose. “Pass.”

“Fine.” I sigh, slipping my hands away from hers and into my back pockets.

I look around one more time to make sure I’m not forgetting anything of mine or Quinten’s, although between the two of us, we don’t have much. He’s at school right now, and I want to get it all moved before he comes home tonight so he doesn’t have to see the process and can just settle into his new space.

“Ready to roll?” she asks.

I give her a sad smile and nod, and we make our way out to her car. Immediately, the music starts blaring out of her speakers, and normally I’d give her shit for it, but now I soak in the noise, hoping it keeps us from having to say our goodbyes. I know she’ll be right across town and a phone call away but still. It will be different.

When we pass by where Candace used to live, Dalia sucks on her lips and turns down the volume.

“Any update from Parker or your lawyer yet? About… anything?” she asks.

“Nope,” I reply, popping the p. “Not since he told me that a man being murdered was ‘great news.’”

She laughs. “Well, it kind of is.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I bite back the smile. “Is it bad I don’t feel guilty he’s dead?”

“Amaya!” she chastises through her giggles. “You’re not supposed to say shit like that out loud.”

I grin. “I know but…BFF privilege. You get to hear all the unfiltered thoughts I don’t tell anyone else.”

She nods. “Well, if that’s the case, then as your best friend, I demand you tell me why you’re still moving in with Parker if you think your name is cleared.”

I tilt my head, chewing on my lip. It’s amazing how easily I forget that not everybody knows the same Parker Errien as me. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be his, and I’m not naive enough to believe he’d let me go. Now that he has me, he’ll never allow me to leave.

Besides, he wasted no time embroiling himself in everything that had to do with my life, making me dependent on him in a way I once swore I would never be. Extra care for Quinten. Paying for therapy. Giving me transportation. Putting Quinten in for an interview with that private school in Coddington Heights.

“Selfishness is an ugly trait, Amaya.” My mother’s voice rings in my ears.

I nod, sucking on my lips. “He’s… He gives Quin a life that I can’t give him, you know?”

Dalia’s brows furrow as she looks at me from her peripheral vision. “I think you give Quin the best life because you’re in it. There’s no one that kid loves more than you.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all our own worst critics, I guess.” I lean forward and turn the volume back up. I don’t feel like talking anymore.

Twenty minutes later and we’re pulling in front of Errien Hotel.

The doorman brings out a large gold dolly, and before I can even blink, all my and Quinten’s belongings are loaded up and disappearing inside.

“Well then,” Dalia says. “That was easy.”

“Guess so,” I reply, staring up at the deep red brick. There’s a sense of dread sinking in my gut the longer I look, but I push it back down.

Dalia whistles. “You’re big balling now, sister. Don’t forget about us little people.”

I snort. “Please. It’s insulting you’d even say that.”

She leans in, nudging my shoulder with hers. “Come on. I’ll help you unpack.”

I’m not sure what I expected when we walk into the hotel, maybe for people to look at me funny or for there to be judgment in the air over the fact that Parker chose me for his wife despite who I am and what this town thinks of me, but instead, it’s the opposite. I get smiles from every employee, and as Dalia and I make our way through the entrance and over to the elevator, I reach in my back pocket and pull out the key that Parker told me to swipe to grant access to our floor.

It works flawlessly and then the doors are opening straight to the penthouse.

Dalia makes a face. “It just opens up straight into your place like this?”

I shrug. “I guess so.” We walk in, my steps echoing on the marble floor, and I spin around with my arms out to my sides.

“Here she is in all her beauty.”

Dalia nods, looking around. “Kind of boring.”

“And big.”

“Definitely that,” she agrees. “Does he know what color schemes are or you think he went with muted gray tones on purpose to match his personality?”

I laugh, seeing that the doormen put the boxes against the side of the wall here in the living room, and I walk over to them, running my finger over the lettering that spells out Quinten’s name.

My heart squeezes.

Dalia walks up next to me. “He’ll do fine, girl. He always does.”

I swallow around the emotion, nodding. I know he’ll be okay, but I still worry. I still wonder if I’m doing the right thing. “Yeah.”

“He’s got you. And I speak from experience when I say that’s really all any of us need.”

Chuckling, I roll my eyes and twist toward her. “You’re only buttering me up because I’m rich now.”

“Ha! You bet your sweet ass I am. Now order us some takeout, and let’s get you moved in.”