“I haven’t had a chance to work on my tan lately.”
He grimaced. I couldn’t even make a joke come off as anything less than insulting.
“Let me know before you take off.”
“Sure.”
The scent of garlic and wine hit my nose as soon as I stepped into Dad’s place.
“Hungry?” he asked as I came into the kitchen.
“A little.” I went straight to where Blake and Ella were playing. I scooped him up and kissed his hair. “Hi, baby.”
“How.” He pressed my nose with his finger.
Ella shrieked, but I didn’t acknowledge her.
“We made pasta today.” Dad scooped up some of the noodles to show me.
“Sounds fun.”
“You must be tired.”
“Translation: I look tired.” I kissed his cheek, and he blinked in surprise. “How’d you learn to be so diplomatic?”
“I know my daughter. If I told her she looked tired, the fireworks would start.”
I plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs that had been here my whole life. “She’s too exhausted for fireworks.”
“Wine?”
“Please.”
He filled a stemless goblet of Sauvignon blanc and set it in front of me. I took a sip, savoring the crisp, cool liquid.
“Looks like it’s really coming along over at the garage.” Dad stirred something in the pot and banged the spoon on the side before he propped it on the edge.
“It’s still filthy, but it’s coming, I guess.”
“I couldn’t believe how different the office looks.”
“Wasn’t so bad underneath all that grime.”
“Has Holt mentioned when they might move into the loft?”
“No. But he didn’t speak to me most of yesterday and today.” That earned me my father’s you know better than that face. “Living and working in the same space is a stupid idea.”
“The apartment is nice. Spacious.”
“Yeah, but you’d never get away from work. And are they planning to have kids? Because that place is an accident waiting to happen.”
“You could ask him.”
I snorted. “He’d think I meant something by it that I wouldn’t.”
“I’d leave out the part about living there being stupid.”
I sipped the wine. “What’s the point? He already—”
Ring. Ring. Ring. I picked up his phone from where it lay near me on the table and went to pass it to him.
What the hell? After all the anger directed my way . . .
“You’re talking to her.”
“Marlow . . .”
The chair scraped as I stood. I shoved the phone at him. “All of you gave me such grief about having a relationship with her and yet here you are, doing the same thing. Hypocrite much?” I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t pretend that I belonged here anymore. How could he do this to me?
No, I wouldn’t stay. I was exhausted. The trip home would be hell at this time, but I had to leave.
“You don’t understand.” He came toward me, a plea in his eyes.
“That’s true. I truly don’t understand your hypocrisy.”
I snatched my purse off the floor, grabbed Blake’s bag from the living room, and loaded him into his stroller parked by the door.
“Sweetheart, please. Listen to me.”
I whirled around. “Like you did me? No, thanks.”
Chapter Fourteen
Patrick
I twirled my phone in my hand.
Note to self. Don’t make promises to check in on a she-witch every day.
Guilt motivated me to press the green button. By the fifth ring, I began to relax. I’d get away with leaving a message, my good deed done.
“What?”
There wasn’t an ounce of fight in that smoky voice. I sat up straight in my bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Why can’t you just answer the damn question?”
“Did you call to lecture me?”
“Do you live to torment me?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Is Blake okay?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“How come you sound like shit?”
“How come you’re a dick?”
“Is that the next word in your son’s ever-evolving vocabulary?”
“Who asked you?”
“Do you want to come over?” Wait. What? Why did I say that?
“Are you drunk?”
“Do I sound like it?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Why are you bothering me?”
“How about this for being a shithead asshole fucker?” I stabbed the end button and slumped down into the pillows.
I swear I’d been less exhausted after the five miles I’d run earlier. Why couldn’t the woman answer a damn question? I rubbed my temples. If Mr. Dixon wanted to check on his daughter, he needed to do his own dirty work from now on.
I cursed at the vibration against my thigh.
“What now?”
“Why are you so pissy?”
I growled in frustration. “Why are you communicating in questions only?”
“Why are you?”
“Goodbye, Wicked.”
I pulled the phone from my ear.
“Wait.”
I closed my eyes and prayed someone would give me strength.
“Why?”
“You’re only speaking in questions too,” she said petulantly.
“Marlow, so help me God.” I yanked on my hair.
“Can you keep Blake tomorrow?”
“Are you serious?”
“Can you?”
“Why isn’t your Dad?”
“Why did I bother?” she muttered.
“What happened to me being unqualified?”
“Have you ever been desperate?”
“Why don’t you just tell Holt you can’t help him tomorrow? Or why don’t you just take Blake with you?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“What are you up to?”
“Will you or not?”
“What time?”
“Should I bring him to your place or the office?”
“Want me to come to the garage?”
“So you’ll keep him?”
“Are you desperate?”
“Am I calling you?”
I rubbed my temples and sighed. “Will you bring donuts?”
“Donuts?”
“Is that too much to ask?”
“Shouldn’t you have something of more nutritional value?”
“Since when do you care?”
“So tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
I hung up the call and felt dizzy. What the hell had we just agreed to? I was keeping Blake again. Gerard was going to love that. Where the hell was I picking him up?
I flipped off the master light switch and punched my pillow. I pulled the duvet up, then got hot, so I threw it off. I couldn’t get comfortable on this side, so I rolled over and got a whiff of toddler and Wicked. I punched the pillow again, tried to settle in.
Eventually, I hugged the pillow she’d slept on, but it was a poor substitute. One night with the two of them in my bed and it felt wrong being in it without them.
“What time
