She slapped my hand. “Six thirty. Don’t be late.”
“Can I bring a date?”
“We don’t want some random woman at our wedding,” Holt said.
“Are you dating someone?” Trish asked hopefully. Why did she want that for me?
“You know me better than that.” I winked at her. “And I wasn’t going to bring some random woman.”
“I’m a little scared right now.” Baker leaned closer to Holt.
“You told your sister?” I threw the question out there casually, but it went off like a bomb.
“She left in a huff the other day. Haven’t seen her since.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“She didn’t tell us about her,” Andrew said through gritted teeth.
“Don’t regret not inviting her,” Mrs. Quinn said quietly.
“I’m afraid I’ll regret it if we do.” Holt drained his beer. Baker punched him in the arm. “She’s on your shit list,” he accused.
“Doesn’t mean I have to act like her.”
Mr. Dixon was suspiciously quiet as he stared into his glass.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Like she’s on speaking terms with any of us at the moment.” Andrew scooped some spinach dip onto his plate.
“I thought you were keeping up with her.” Mr. Dixon lifted his eyes to mine.
Ella shrieked. I grabbed her from her carrier and settled her in my lap. “Hey, gorgeous. You miss your partner in crime?” Everyone looked at me like they’d never seen me before. “We had a big time together this week,” I said by way of explanation.
“You looked after Ella?” Baker didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.
“And Blake too, if you must know.”
She sprayed some of her wine. “Why didn’t you send us a video?”
I wiped Ella’s face. “Next time we will, won’t we?”
Her tiny face looked like she’d passed gas, but I pretended it was enthusiasm.
“What’s going on with you and my sister? That was weird you showing up together for dinner.” Andrew leaned back in his chair and slung an arm around Trish.
I exchanged a glance with Mr. Dixon. “I assure you, there’s nothing going on.”
“I think you’re good for her,” Trish said. “She’s softer around you.”
“If you mean she can’t speak as much because I dominate the conversation, then yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m serious.” Trish pressed her lips together.
“No offense, but I don’t think so.”
I still saw the absolute desperation and grief on her face when she was clear I was no longer welcome. “Don’t come in my house again uninvited.” I wasn’t sure if that meant she’d never reach out for me to take Blake or if I wasn’t allowed on her turf. And after getting shitfaced drunk because of her, it was probably better I cut all ties. She didn’t want me or anything else. The problem was, I heard her other words too. “I feel like this on the inside every day. Most of the time I do a better job of holding it in.”
I released a sigh, she wasn’t my problem to solve, and then shook my finger at Trish. “I almost forgot. My guy came up with a little info on Cricket. Said she sneaks out of the shelter around one every night.” I glanced to Mrs. Quinn. “You did not hear that from me.”
“Where does she go?”
“Meets a man in Brownsville. Comes back around four.”
Trish worried her lip between her teeth.
“Shall I administer a drug test?” Mrs. Quinn twirled the stem of her wine glass.
“That’s your call.” I held up one of my hands. Ella grabbed for it. “I’m only the messenger.”
She looked away, resignation on her face.
“Who’s the guy she meets?”
“We’re working on that. But if you two want to know more, I’d suggest leaving it alone for the moment.” Trish appeared ready to argue when I cut her off. “You were going to wait on her this morning.”
She nodded. “I’m worried about her.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Marlow
“How.”
“I’m hungry too, sweetheart. Just let me finish up this section, and we’ll go.” I rolled deep blue paint on a wall of Holt’s office as “In Your River” by Snoh Aalegra played from my phone.
“Think he’ll like it?”
Blake pumped his fist at me, and I laughed.
“I guess if he doesn’t, we’ll paint it again.”
He’d been so good today. We’d had one crying jag and one tantrum, but after I found an old favorite lion stuffed animal, he had entertained himself quietly in the playpen for nearly an hour then slept for another hour. A miracle. I could paint fast, so that was what I did.
I glanced at the battered metal desk in the center of the room. How was I going to ask Dad if he’d give Holt the desk he had in one of the spare bedrooms? My brother had always liked it. I didn’t think Dad used it much anymore. But I didn’t want them to know what I was up to.
I hadn’t decided about the flooring. The nasty carpet had to go. I’d peeled up a corner of it and discovered the same hardwoods as up in the loft. Whether or not they could be salvaged, I didn’t know.
“I think that’s it.” I dropped the roller in the pan and surveyed my work. “One more coat in the morning and we’ll be good to go.”
“How. Ass.”
“It does look good, doesn’t it?”
I cleaned the brush and roller I’d used and left my supplies to dry in the downstairs bathroom. Baby brother was going to have to do better than this if he wanted to make women feel welcome here. Of course, I couldn’t tell him that without him getting offended.
I turned off the lights and locked up with time to spare. If Holt and Baker decided to come by after dinner at Dino’s, they wouldn’t catch me.
My stomach growled, even as it churned with disappointment. I hadn’t particularly had a good time with my family lately, but I missed Sunday dinner.
And I didn’t want to go home.
I opened the text app on my phone.
Large pizza - pepperoni, mushroom, onion, jalapeños, extra black olives
A second later . . .
And extra sauce
The message
