In point three seconds, I’d hit the call button.
“What are you doing with Blake?” I snapped as soon as he picked up.
“Your dad called me. Said there was some sort of emergency he needed to help Mrs. Quinn with at the shelter.”
“He’d call Andrew. Not you.” This jackass had used my son to trick me into calling him back.
“He’s with a client. Trish is at the food truck. Baker is on a photo shoot. You’re working with Holt. Mrs. Quinn I already told you about. I’m sure I was a last resort.”
“You’re such a liar. My father would never leave two small children in your care without calling me.”
“How!”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Who was I going to murder first? Dad or Patrick?
“Any chance you could come by my office? I’ve got a few things I need to finish up.”
“Fine,” I snapped as I tossed my phone back in my pocket and stormed into the office to grab my purse.
“What’s stirred up the tornado now?”
I glared at Holt. “Your father has lost his mind. He left your nephew in the care of an idiot.”
“What?” I was glad that Holt looked just as surprised.
Why the hell would Dad take Blake to Patrick? He was a lawyer who worked fourteen-hour days. The interruption certainly wouldn’t fit in with his bill-by-the-minute policy.
Your dad called just as I had a meeting cancel.
God, he was reading my mind.
I practically ran for the door. The only thing that helped was knowing that Patrick was actually very good with Blake. I had no idea where his uncle skills came from, but Blake liked him. Even so, my anger was nearly boiling over.
I scrubbed my temple as I hailed a cab. Was there anybody left in this world I could trust?
Chapter Eight
Patrick
Fury.
That was the only word to accurately describe Marlow as she burst into my office, Gerard on her heels. Her eyes searched for Blake, a brief moment of relief in them when she spotted him safe and sound in a playpen with Ella.
She scooped him up and cradled him to her chest, whispering against his head.
“It’s all right,” I said to Gerard, who appeared almost as irritated as Marlow. He scowled at her before marching from my office with disgust.
“Why didn’t either of you call me?”
“There was no reason—”
“I should know where my son is.” Her face turned red. “You’re not capable—”
“He’s in one piece, isn’t he?” I questioned acidly. She examined him, like she couldn’t see he was fine. Well, screw that. “Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way. He was no trouble at all.” I could actually see why Mr. Dixon liked hanging out with these two kids. They were good company.
“Where are his things?”
No thank you would come in my direction from her.
“On the sofa.” I pointed my chin to the diaper bags. What an ungrateful witch. Had she ever hoofed it across Manhattan with two kids in a wide-load stroller, a foldable playpen, and all their shit? “Blake’s fed. I didn’t get to the bath part.”
“Don’t act like you’ve done me a giant favor. I didn’t ask for this.” She yanked the bag onto her shoulder.
I hadn’t either, but when Mr. Dixon called with a hint of desperation in his voice, I couldn’t turn him down. He didn’t exactly explain what his emergency was, but I didn’t exactly demand to know either. Some part of me liked that when he’d needed something important, he’d thought of me. Unfortunately his daughter didn’t feel the same.
“It would probably be too much to ask if you could take Ella home.” I pushed at the papers on my desk.
“She’s not my responsibility.”
I gaped at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? She’s your niece.” She was unbelievable.
“Not my biological niece,” she corrected to my astonishment. “And what the hell is wrong with me? My father left my son in your care without consulting me—”
“Stop bitching.”
“Like I’d ever listen to you again.”
“Like you ever have.”
“I’ve showed up at Holt’s and all I’ve gotten is an aching back.”
“It’ll take more than two days.”
She should know better than anyone that pain didn’t heal overnight.
“He didn’t even speak to me today.”
“What did you say?”
“It’s always my fault, isn’t it?” She hefted Blake in her arms. “Where’s his stroller?”
“At your dad’s.”
She growled something unintelligible before shooting daggers at me. I leaned back in my chair with a slight satisfaction. Score one, Whitley.
Blake held out his arms toward me. “How, how, how.”
Between the screaming and hows, I’d tried to expand the vocabulary of these two, eventually deciding to let them be themselves. When Blake wanted to say another word, he’d do it.
“Are you going to let me say goodbye?”
Blake squirmed in her arms, and I stood, rounding the desk. Marlow pressed her lips together as if asking for divine strength.
Tiny hands gripped my shirt. Larger arms didn’t want to let him go.
In the end, Blake won. I hugged him to my chest. “We had a fun time, didn’t we?”
He gave me a toothy grin.
“Tell your mom we need to do it again.”
She stiffened, but I pretended not to notice or that her reaction didn’t sting. So what? I had no experience with children, but I wasn’t walking around touting I was some kind of kid whisperer.
I’d managed to do just fine with not one, but two, little ones. They’d played together for the hour I’d had them, pretty much keeping themselves occupied, but I wanted to celebrate the success. It felt monumental even though I knew I wasn’t the first to babysit a few kids without the place falling down around us.
“Want to go get something to eat?” I covered up my surprise at the words that had just tumbled out of my mouth by blowing a raspberry on Blake’s cheek.
“Thought you were busy.”
I cocked my head. “I am.” But I was sad to see the little guy go.
“Fine.”
I nearly dropped Blake. Did I hear her correctly?
“You’re giving me whiplash, Wicked.” I motioned toward the other diaper bag. “Help me get little miss ready to go.”
Marlow didn’t move.
I pointed at the playpen. “I’ll handle the munchkins and you can take that.”
I shivered at the glare she shot me as she went to fold it up.
My phone trilled.
“What’s up, man? You looking for your little girl?”
“Is she okay?” Andrew asked, half-joking, half-serious.
“Dude, I changed a diaper.”
“Want a medal?” Marlow muttered.
“Yeah, I do,” I retorted.
“Who are you talking to? And where are you?”
“Your angel of a sister. She trespassed into my office and accused me of kidnapping.” I flashed her a saccharine smile.