I was in a panic, sweaty and jittery until the moment I saw Buck through the window, standing outside on the deck of the restaurant, watching me, guarding me. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I knew Paul thought I was looking at myself in the shiny glass. He would think I was vain. I wasn’t. I was smiling about our signal. The thumbs-up sign from Buck meant that everything was in place, that we had Paul and the proof of the poisoning that we needed. The proof meant this charade was almost all over. As I smiled my relief out the window, I felt strong. This day would forever be the start of the rest of my life. The best day ever, in fact, just not the one Paul envisioned.
Sometimes I wish I could have seen Paul’s face, confidence shaken when he was taken into custody inside his own home. Did his heart fall when he discovered his kids were gone, or did he tell himself he’d win in the end? I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he opened my little red envelope. No doubt, in his messed up way, he thought it was a love note from me to him. I wonder if, just for a moment, he felt sorry about what he had done. Did his heart drop at everything he’d lost? Most of the time, though, I’m glad I didn’t see his reaction. It probably would have been my final disappointment.
As Paul was discovering all the surprises I had in store for him at home, I was at the hospital with Buck. The early-morning hours were scary as I saw Buck’s injuries and realized exactly what Paul was capable of doing to another human being. I watched as Buck was admitted and hooked up to machines, all the while wondering if the police in Columbus would actually catch Paul or if he’d outsmart us all. I just had a sinking feeling he would get away. The wait was terrifying. The call came at sunrise, informing us Paul had been booked on robbery charges.
“Robbery? That’s all?” I said, incredulous. Buck’s team had called his phone. I picked up the call.
“It’s all they have, ma’am,” the man said. “He’ll probably post bail in a few hours. Stay safe.” Later, I would discover he had secret credit cards. It had taken months to sort out his financial schemes once he was gone.
I looked at Buck, sleeping thanks to some IV drugs, and realized it was fine. We would stay safe. With Buck by my side, Paul wouldn’t dare come back. He’d signed the papers. We’d won. His only choice was to scamper away in the night. I fell asleep sitting up in the chair next to Buck’s hospital bed, and even so, it was one of the best rests I’d had in months.
The next day, Buck was released from the hospital. I drove us back to Lakeside. As I pulled into my driveway, a chill spread down my spine. Buck grabbed my hand.
“Let’s go to my place.”
I nodded, turned off the engine and hurried to help Buck open the door. With his bruised ribs, he’d need to take it easy for a bit and I didn’t mind. It was my turn to take care of him for a while.
Even with the pain in his side, Buck was beaming. It was a beautiful summer day. Trees heavy with green leaves, kids pedaling by on rented bicycles. I’d never been inside Buck’s cottage, even though we’d spent two weeks together the summer before, gardening. It wouldn’t have been appropriate. My boys had been with me and, well, I was afraid Paul was watching. I felt like he always was watching me. Now I know that was true. As Buck opened the door and stepped to the side to let me in, walking gingerly, I had been surprised by his cottage’s sleek sophistication. It was as if I was walking into a home and garden magazine’s interpretation of the perfect lake house.
“Nice place you have here,” I said. I was taking in the white linen sofas, the dark hardwood floors, the sleek stainless steel light fixtures and the large white stone fireplace of the family room.
“Glad you like it,” he said. I watched as he closed and locked the door, sliding in a dead bolt. My husband was gone, but Buck still was on high alert. My hero. “You’re safe now, Mia.”
Buck stepped closer to me, and finally, I could fall into his arms. In the hospital, he was tended to by his staff and the nurses. Neither then nor now was the time for passion, of course. It was time for relief, for appreciation, for freedom. We simply stood in his cottage and held each other. It was a new start.
I’m stronger now. It helps that we keep tabs on Paul, that we know where he is, what he’s up to down in Florida, Palm Beach of all places. I hope there will come a day when I don’t wonder if he’ll appear back in our lives; I hope there will be a time when I’m certain he has moved on. I want to believe that if I can move on, so can he. As he said the last time we saw each other, I disgusted him. Probably, given everything that transpired, his feelings of disgust have intensified. I just hope those feelings don’t turn to revenge. Buck tells me not to worry. They are tracking him. We will be the first to know if Paul ever decides to make his way back to Ohio. He says it’s time to heal, to move on.
Together, as a family. This time, my fiancé has my parents’ glowing endorsement. Especially since we are house-hunting in New York City, where the boys will once again live close to grandparents who love them. We’ll keep the Lakeside cottages for now. The place is still special. Paul can’t take that away from us.
“Mom, it’s time to go eat,” Sam says now, running up to me and grabbing my hand. His face is flushed bright red from playing basketball. He’s happy, and hungry. He’s normal.
“Did you have fun playing with Buck?” I ask. I love the feel of his sweaty little hand in mine and I hold on tight.
“Yeah! Best day ever,” he says.
I swallow at the use of his dad’s phrase and smile. “Yes, it was,” I tell him. “The best day ever.”
*
Paul Strom's Playlist for The Best Day Ever “Mack the Knife”—Bobby Darin
“Come Away with Me”—Norah Jones “Somebody That I Used to Know”—Gotye (featuring Kimbra) “As Time Goes By”—Frank Sinatra “Crazy He Calls Me”—Billie Holiday “The Story Of Us”—Taylor Swift “Unforgettable”—Nat King Cole “You Don’t Know What Love Is”—Billie Holiday “We Are In Love”—Harry Connick Jr.
“You Know I’m No Good”—Amy Winehouse “Cold, Cold Heart”—Dinah Washington “Every Breath You Take”—The Police “Bad Romance”—Lady Gaga
Author Note
Paul Strom popped into my subconscious almost fully formed, although I’m not quite certain where he came from. Now that you’ve read the book, I know that you understand how scary that was. Despite the fact that characters like Paul can give you the creeps while you’re writing their story, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him. Maybe he’ll have another story down the line? I love writing, and reading, books with unreliable narrators. One of my previous novels, All the Difference, features a female unreliable narrator. She’s very scary herself.