“It’s over on West 16th Street.” Baker held out the champagne to Holt.
“Am I missing something?”
“That’s where his new garage is,” Andrew volunteered. “He gave her that as a ring.”
“You knew about this?” Trish smacked him in the arm.
“Bright Side, I did the paperwork. You would’ve told her.” He motioned toward Baker, who nodded smugly.
“I hope we can come whenever you decide on a date,” Mrs. Quinn said. “Or at least let us have a reception.”
Marlow made a disgruntled noise, and I kicked her foot.
“How!”
Blake got me every time with that. Sure, it was annoying after a few hours of the word on repeat, but it was still cute.
I stood and scooped him out of his carrier. “How.” I nuzzled his nose.
“He was fine where he was.” Marlow glared as I settled her son in my arms.
“Let’s take a poll. The final decision is mine and Baker’s, but we’ll take the input.” Holt slung an arm on the back of Baker’s chair.
Ella released a blood curdling scream. The rest of the restaurant went quiet, but we continued like nothing had happened.
“Does that mean she wants to participate or is against the idea?” I asked Trish.
She grinned. “Participate. Definitely participate.”
“Well, little lady. If your sister came to you for a job, would you give it to her?” Holt directed the question at Trish’s daughter.
“Is she like your sister?” I asked, rocking Blake. “The answer would be a resounding no.”
Mr. Dixon shifted in his seat, his attention on Marlow. “Are you trying to make peace or stir up trouble?”
“You know what? Forget it.” Her chair screeched across the floor as she stood. She held out her hands for Blake.
“Sit down,” I said. “They think I’m the one who has to be the center of attention, but it’s all you, Wicked.”
“Go to hell.”
“I went by your house, but you weren’t home.”
She gripped the back of her chair and glared at Holt. “If you didn’t want my help, you could’ve just said so.”
“Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”
“You’ve wreaked havoc for months and then you show up out of nowhere and do your version of nice. Which isn’t, by the way,” Baker said. “We’re starting a new business, a life together. One you’ve made clear you don’t approve of. Neither of us have room for negativity. So if that’s all you’ve got, you can keep it.”
What would it be like to have a woman like that? That had your back. Would tell your sister off if she was wrong. I’d never know, that was for sure.
“Give me my child.” Marlow shook her arms, her expression that she meant business.
Blake gripped the lapel of my suit.
“You’re not ready to go are you, how now?” We grinned at each other, though I hoped I didn’t have the same string of saliva connecting my mouth and shirt like he did.
“Let me keep him. I haven’t seen my grandson in weeks.” Mr. Dixon fixed his daughter with a stare I wouldn’t argue with. But this was Marlow we were talking about.
“Some other time.” She picked up her purse and pried Blake from my arms. “You’re the last person he needs to influence him.”
The parting shot stung, but it was the one thing she’d said all night that was the truth.
Chapter Three
Marlow
This was a mistake.
I backed out of the restaurant, nearly hitting a man with the door.
“Don’t worry, I’m good,” he said.
I didn’t even look up, let alone mumble an apology. I ran completely out of fucks nearly two years ago. No way would I change for a stranger when I couldn’t give my family the courtesy.
“Wicked.”
I gripped the handles of the stroller and picked up my pace.
“What the hell was that back there? Are you determined to ruin anything related to your brothers and their weddings?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, that’s real nice.” Patrick fell in step beside me. “Why did you even show up if you were going to act that way? It was worse than awful, even for you.”
“Then why are you chasing me?”
“Because I don’t want you to alienate the people who give a shit about you.”
“Don’t act like you’re one of them,” I spat, pausing when I approached a crosswalk.
“I didn’t mean me.” His words were acid. I deserved them, but they burned no less.
“Mind your own business.”
“They know you. Or they thought they did. Your offer to work for Holt was the equivalent of an olive branch. But that attitude”—he waved his hand behind him—“it’s not going to cut it.”
“When did you become the moral authority? You’ve defended murderers, rapists, husbands who kept their wives as sex slaves.” I flashed him an insincere smile.
“I’ve never denied any of that.” When the man on the crosswalk signal lit green, Patrick continued with me. “Wicked, you’ve made your feelings about me perfectly clear. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. But those people around that table are family to me. You can’t treat them like they’re nothing.”
“They’re my family. Not yours.”
“Start acting like it.”
I halted. Heat sizzled between us. Hate and lust in one giant clusterfuck.
“Get over it, Marlow. Don’t be a bitch, Marlow. Be strong for Blake, Marlow.” I mimicked all the implied advice thrown at me over the years. “I’m a good mother. I’m honest. And if they or anybody else doesn’t like it, they can go screw themselves.”
I deflated as soon as the rant escaped me. None of them understood. And no one was going to tell me how to behave. If they’d been through what I had, they’d be this hard too.
“Honesty is appreciated. Could you maybe sugar-coat it a little?” He flashed me this lop-sided grin that I itched to return.
“No,” I said flatly.
His face fell, and he shrugged. “If you want them to forgive you, you better do something drastic.”
“Why do I have to do anything at all?” I cried. “I told them I didn’t know she would show up in Wyoming. That’s on them if they don’t believe me.”
“It’s on you,” he said evenly. “Hiding a relationship with your estranged mother for years is definitely all on you.”
“What’s so wrong with having a relationship with my mother? My brothers are just jealous.” Even as I said it, I knew it was so much more than that. I knew exactly why choosing her over them was wrong. Lesson learned the hard way.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play stupid.”
“Take your stupid and go back to dinner.” I took off down the sidewalk again without a real direction.
Patrick didn’t know anything. Or he knew too much was more like it.
“My stupid is going in the opposite direction,” he said under his breath, giving me a pointed look.