“I won’t deny that. I . . .” He paused to collect his thoughts. “It feels like we’re on a collision course. I hope that maybe if you spend some time with her, we might turn this boiling cauldron down to a simmer.”
When was the last time anyone believed in me? I didn’t know what to do with that. “You’re putting too much faith in me.”
“Here we are,” he said, rolling the stroller to a stop.
I looked up at the brick building. Paint peeled off the garage doors. The drain pipes hanging down the side were crooked and rusted. The light above the entrance was busted out. It was rough, no doubt about that, but I understood why Holt bought the place. There was something about it.
I followed Mr. Dixon inside. They had a long way to go to get this in shape for business.
“I thought you were only bringing lunch. Where’d you find this guy?” Holt took one of the bags from me, and we fist-bumped.
The door creaked open behind us.
“Am I late?” Baker asked breathlessly, her heels click click clicking across the concrete.
“Right on time.”
She kissed Mr. Dixon’s cheek and greeted the children.
Holt cupped his mouth. “Yo, Marlow. Lunch is here.”
I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. Should’ve known she was here.
“You didn’t want me to waste any time, did you?” I gave Mr. Dixon a tight smile.
“Where’d the chairs come from?” Baker ran a finger along the back of one positioned around the reception desk.
“Guys found them upstairs in a closet with the plastic still on.” Holt looked at the furniture proudly. “Nice, aren’t they?”
“We’re not using them in the lobby,” Baker said and his face fell. “We’re trying to appeal to women.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with them,” I said, wading in where my opinion wasn’t wanted or needed.
“I like them for the loft.”
I’d just witnessed compromise in action. And then the most uncompromising human who’d ever inhabited the planet came out of the office.
My mouth dropped open. Marlow’s old T-shirt and jeans were streaked with dust and dirt. The messy knot of hair on her head fell limply to one side, more strands out than in. Sweat beaded her forehead. She looked . . . real.
“How!” Blake beamed at his mother. For one instant, the hardened exterior dropped when she looked at her son.
That was the woman who had me chasing her out of Dino’s. The one I wanted to know better.
“Hey.” I’d never heard her speak in that soft tone to anyone, not even Blake.
Damn her. The ice-cold witch was better than this.
She straightened to find everyone watching her. That mouth I knew intimately rolled to one side. The steel wrapped around her in an instant.
When she noticed me, her irritation visibly ramped up another level.
We all waited for the explosion.
“I cleaned off the desk.” She spoke through gritted teeth and motioned toward the piece of furniture.
“Then let’s eat,” Mr. Dixon said.
I strode behind her, pressing my front against her back. She tensed when my lips grazed her ear. “I see you took my advice, Wicked.” Her fists clenched at her sides. “And your version of playing nice? Better watch out or people will get the wrong impression.”
She lifted her heel and slammed it down on my toe.
“Are we five?” I hissed as pain shot up my foot.
“Didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
As I moved past Mr. Dixon to take a seat, I spoke where only he could hear. “Please tell me this counts for the daily check-in.”
He grinned as he pulled a carton from the bag. “Already throwing in the towel?”
“I’m not sure what will be left of me after this.” My big toe throbbed. What if she’d had on heels?
He touched my shoulder. “Bumps and bruises give us character.”
“I already like who I am just fine.”
Chapter Seven
Marlow
Everything ached.
I’d used muscles yesterday I hadn’t used in years. Yet here I was, back for round two. The look on Holt’s face when I showed up with coffee pretty much summed up how I felt. What the hell was I doing here?
“The office looks great,” he said as he accepted the coffee. “To see it now, you’d never know it was as filthy as it was.”
“Needs paint.”
“Yeah, but all of this is more important right now.” He twirled his index finger.
“What color scheme?”
“Still working on it. Some of the ladies from the shelter are helping us with the details.” He jerked his head toward the stairs. “Should we go up?”
I followed him to an area I’d not yet seen. The space was open with exposed-beam ceilings.
“This will be Baker’s space for her makeup.” A few men were already at work. “We’re supposed to be doing the garage first and then this, but I figured out how to swing it so we could do both at once.”
I stared at the back of his head. He’d always been kind, especially as a little boy. Back then, it infuriated me that our mother’s absence didn’t seem to affect him. Then I blamed him for her leaving in the first place. All the while, he drew pictures and made stuff out of sticks and rocks for his big sister.
“Don’t go under before you get started.” I wandered to the left, beyond the wall separating the space.
“The apartment will be last. We’ve got a great one on Warren Street we love.”
“Then why are you remodeling this bathroom?”
“For Baker.”
Holt was eaten up with the woman.
“You should slow down,” I said, Patrick’s advice completely unheeded. If I thought any of my family was making a mistake, I wasn’t going to keep quiet. Especially regarding this.
“I’d like to pretend you mean with the construction,” he said, propping a hand on the bathroom doorframe.
“Think about what happens if one day she doesn’t come home. Is she worth it?”
I moved back into the apartment. Ick. It was huge, but the kitchen looked like it was the original. It’s one redeeming quality was the wall of exposed brick. The wood floors appeared beyond repair. I didn’t want to know what was in some of the deteriorating boxes that littered the space.
“Just because you’re unhappy doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else miserable.” Holt moved to the old factory windows that separated the apartment from the garage below. “I think you should leave.”
“I need a ladder,” I said, ignoring him. I tilted my head back. “A tall one.”
I declined the call when I saw the caller ID. Whatever Patrick wanted, I was too tired to hear it.
I hung the cloth I’d rinsed out on the side of the sink. I was too old for this shit. And Holt hadn’t spoken to me the rest of the day. Patrick, in his infinite wisdom, had been totally wrong about how to fix this relationship. He was an idiot.
My phone chimed.
I’ve got your child.