Custom Love by Chantal Fernando

Chapter Eight

“Do you want any help cleaning up?” I ask Trade as people begin to head home. Before he can answer, I get a garbage bag and start picking up all the trash in the garden.

“You don’t have to do that, I’ll get the kids to help me after everyone is gone,” he says, trying to take the bag from me. “You are a guest. I don’t expect you to do any of that.”

“Trade, it’s fine. I don’t mind helping,” I say, moving my hands away. “And besides, everyone is gone. With me helping, it will be done quickly.”

He looks around and realizes it’s just us two remaining. “You are the best, you know that?”

“I do.” I grin.

He laughs, and calls the girls and AJ and asks them to help us. He tells them what to do, and off they go. “Thanks, Nadia.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I pick up all the ripped wrapping paper and put it in the recycling bin, and then tidy up the kitchen while Trade and the kids finish cleaning the garden. It doesn’t take long for us to have the whole place back to normal, and then the kids take their showers, which means it’s time for me to tell Trade what I was going to.

What if he gets so upset and me telling him is all for nothing? Do I want to tell him to be honest or to rid myself of the guilt? Is him knowing going to make things better? I don’t want to start any drama for no reason. I should have chosen a better time to tell him, not after his kid’s party. I’m an idiot. But I’m here right now and can’t exactly say, Oh, never mind, I’ll tell you another time. It’s a little too late for that.

Fuck it, I just have to be honest, no matter what the outcome is in the end. It’s my life’s motto, and I refuse to compromise myself.

“What is it?” he asks, frowning. “Is everything okay?”

“There’s something I have to tell you, but it’s going to upset you, so it’s just really hard for me to get the words out,” I admit, shifting on the leather.

“Nadia, just tell me. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Taylor, that woman we were following...she’s the ex-girlfriend of Damon Richard,” I say, swallowing hard.

Trade’s brows furrow. “They didn’t bring up any ex-girlfriend during the trial. What does this have to do with...?” His eyes widen in realization. “So who is your client?”

“Damon’s mother, Marisol,” I admit, licking my suddenly dry lips. “They are family friends of mine, and she wanted me to look into the case and see what I can find.”

His jaw goes tense. “What is there to look into? He was found guilty. I don’t understand why you’d want to bring it all back up again, especially when everyone is trying to move on from it.”

“Because Marisol was always there for me when I was younger. I figured I’d look at the evidence and then no harm, no foul. But there was something telling me there was more to the story, so I decided to pursue it, if only to make sure the right person is behind bars,” I tell him.

Trade’s voice raises. “He is the right man. They found him guilty, Nadia. What more evidence do you need?”

“Trade—”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters.

“Trade, I dropped the case, okay? I’m not working on it anymore, I’m letting it be. I just wanted to tell you because it didn’t feel right keeping it from you. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing, that I owed it to Marisol. I’m sorry.”

I know it’s not fair to expect him to understand. This isn’t just a person to him, this was the woman he loved and planned on spending the rest of his life with.

“I just don’t understand why you would do this to me, to the kids, especially when we are trying to move on...” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “I’d like you to leave,” he announces. “I just...yeah. I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret.”

I nod and stand up. “I’m sorry, Trade, I never meant to hurt you or your family. But I just wanted to double-check the facts and make sure that Damon did it. And after looking at everything, I realized I was wrong. I should’ve just let things be.”

“You were just doing your job, Nadia, right? You don’t give a fuck who you upset in the meantime,” he says in a bitter tone.

Ouch. “I’m sorry.”

I leave after that, not wanting to stay in his presence any longer. I always knew there was going to be some backlash, and I guess this is it.

It just hurts more than I had anticipated.

“He has every right to be upset,” I tell Bronte on the phone later that night.

After I got home, I broke down and cried. It’s selfish of me, but how was I to know I was going to get closer to Trade after taking the case on?

Fuck, that’s the first time I’m admitting it to myself, but after seeing his face fall, disappointed because of something I did, it’s clear that I do like him.

Not that any of that matters anymore, because I just lost any chance I had with him. He’s never going to look at me the same way after this. And I honestly don’t blame him. I’d probably do the same thing if I were in his shoes.

“He does, and you knew it was going to happen,” she says with a sigh. “But you know what? Let him be upset, and afterward, when he’s thought about it, he might forgive you. Just give him some time. It would have been unexpected, and hard for him to hear. This is why I tried to warn you, Nadia. He’s been through so much, and it’s just such a hard situation.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I hope you’re right and he can forgive me, though. This whole thing has me feeling so shitty. I can’t even imagine how he feels right now. Do you think I should send him a message or just leave it?”

“I’d text him and just say sorry,” she suggests.

We say our goodbyes and end the call, and then I have a long shower before climbing into bed. I follow her advice and send him a message.

Hey Trade, I’m so sorry, and I hope that you can forgive me. I’m here if you need me. Nadia.

What more can I say?

What’s done is done.

The next morning I head into work, coffee in hand, feeling tired after a long night of tossing and turning, but I have to push through. Trade never replied, and I never expected him to. I push away my sadness at that and listen to my voicemails, calling clients back one by one.

Decker comes in when I’m on my last call, and takes a seat and makes himself comfortable. When I hang up the phone, I cross my arms and look over at him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“The girlfriend, Taylor, was found dead this morning,” he says.

“How?” I ask, eyes going wide.

“She fell down a flight of stairs,” he says, tone indicating that’s not what he thinks it is at all.

“You don’t think so?”

“I think it’s a little convenient.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We decided that we’d let this case go.”

“I know.”

“Is this all connected?” I wonder how Chains is going to take it. He finally starts seeing someone, and then she dies.

“I don’t know, but it’s a little suspicious. But the lead detective on the case called it an accident. Whether it was accidental or not, the case is closed. Are you going to look into it, or let it go?”

“I don’t know. Did the evidence at the scene support any suggestion of foul play?”

“Undecided. But there was no forced entry and all trauma was from the fall. There were traces of drugs in her system.”

I think about it a bit. I could look into it for Chains. It doesn’t have to be connected to Damon’s case, which I’ve already dropped. Although if Decker is bringing this to me, he clearly thinks this is something that should be looked at further.

But after what happened last night, maybe I should take a back seat here. I also can’t afford to take on a case that no one is paying me to investigate. I stopped taking on passion projects, aka non-paying jobs, when my business almost went bankrupt. Besides, even if I did find something about Taylor’s death, what good will that do for Damon?

“We could search her house...” Decker suggests after watching me go through mental gymnastics.

My head perks up and my eyebrow arches. “You going to use your badge to get me in there?”

“It’s not a crime scene.” He shrugs. “Going and having a look wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“And you’re going to let me come? Now?”

“I’m bored. No time like the present,” he replies, smirking.

Fuck it. I grab my bag and jump in his cop car with him.

There’s one officer there when we arrive, and he doesn’t blink an eye when me and Decker show up and have a look around. The house is cluttered, with garbage everywhere, her possessions piled up all over any visible counter.

I stop and look at the photos on her fridge. There’s one of her and Damon, which I find a little odd, considering the circumstances. Did she still care about him? The photo suggests that maybe she did, but her attitude at Fast & Fury suggested otherwise.

We find nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that gives us a clue about what really happened here. It’s so sad for everyone involved.

“Maybe she did just take too many drugs,” I say in the car on the way home. But as I say it, I wonder if my presence caused this. “Do you think my confronting her pushed her to do this?”

He gives me a look before focusing back on the road. “No, you shouldn’t think that. She has a history of doing drugs, so you can’t blame yourself for this. You were walking away from this case anyway, remember?”

“Case closed,” I whisper to myself. Time to move on to my next job—my next paying job.