She shoved the folded playpen into my stomach.
“Oh shit.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“I’ve finished up. Want me to come get her?”
“Marlow? I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Ella.”
“Let’s meet at Chez Dixon. Trish has leftovers, right?” Marlow punched me in the arm and vigorously shook her head. “Sounds like the perfect end to the perfect day.”
She flipped me off. I returned the gesture. She did it back. I did too.
“See you in a bit.”
I dropped my phone back into my pocket.
“I really hate you.”
“What’s wrong with dinner with your family?”
“I’m disgusting and exhausted. And I have to go back to New Jersey.”
“Don’t act like it’s across the country.” Gently, I nudged her shoulder. “Besides, I got you free food and more than likely decent wine. You can’t be mad.”
She marched out the door, the playpen under her arm. “What about the long commute home?”
“Stay with me.” What the ever-loving fuck was I thinking? Had I completely lost the ability to think before I spoke?
“No.”
“Why do you live over there anyway?”
She pressed the call button for the elevator. “Do you hear me questioning your choice of living arrangements?”
“Your family is over here.”
“I know they are.” She refused to look at me as the doors closed us into the car.
“I’m just making conversation.” Why was that a no-go topic? Then again, it seemed like everything was.
“Well, you’re not very good at it,” she informed me.
“Like you’re any better. At least I don’t go around insulting people at will.”
She groaned, but I didn’t miss the flinch. Maybe she was more self-aware than I thought. Maybe she didn’t want to act that way, she just didn’t know how not to. “Why did I agree to this?”
“Because your son happens to like me.”
She softened at the mention of Blake. “He likes everybody.”
“Was your husband like that?” I’d met him a few times, but it had been years ago. From what Andrew told me, the guy had been on one tour of duty after another so he wasn’t around much.
“Don’t talk about him.”
“Why not?” I wheeled into the lobby.
Silence was our friend for a few minutes as we moved down the sidewalk. Every so often, she adjusted the playpen from one arm to the other.
“Here. Let me take it.”
“I’ve got it.” She slapped my hand away. We resumed our trek. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Marlow heaved out a sigh. “Jack liked everybody.”
I wished I’d followed her demand not to talk about him. Beneath the pain that edged her voice was a softness she only displayed with her son. Jealousy of a dead hero wasn’t becoming, yet I felt it anyway.
“Try not to take any shots at Trish,” I said, glazing over the subject it turned out neither of us wanted to discuss.
“How about if I just don’t speak? Would that make you happy?”
“I can think of one time I didn’t mind it.”
She picked up her pace. “It was a mistake.”
It wasn’t my finest moment either. Marlow was off limits. But I’d never call what happened a mistake. It had been bliss.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”
Chapter Nine
Marlow
“Thank you for dinner.”
The words sounded anything but grateful, more like they’d been yanked from my mouth.
Trish brightened. “We should do this more often.” She gazed at our children. “They spent all day together, but it doesn’t seem to be enough, does it?”
I followed her line of sight. No. It didn’t. But I said nothing in response.
“Trish, everything was outstanding.”
She blushed at Patrick’s compliment, and I scowled. He was the essence of charming with everyone but me.
“Are you flirting with your best friend’s wife?” I snarled at him.
I couldn’t take it back, though I wanted to. Trish looked horror-struck; Patrick and Andrew looked as if they wanted to throttle me.
“Unbelievable.” Patrick slung the remaining contents of his wine glass down his throat. “We’ll go before she gets warmed up and the insults really start to fly.” He stood and collected everyone’s empty plates and rinsed them.
I opened my mouth to speak some semblance of an apology, but nothing came out. Instead, I helped Patrick load the dishwasher.
His shoulders were rigid. He didn’t speak to me until we were in a cab.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I—” What was the point in trying to explain myself? He wouldn’t believe me, let alone understand.
Blake slept in my arms. I held him close and looked anywhere but at Patrick. I just wanted my bed and yet, I didn’t want to go home.
“Wicked, I want to help you, but you have to want it more than I do.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I shouted.
The driver glanced back in the rearview mirror. Blake woke and burst into wails. Oh no.
The driver had already been angry that we’d taken a toddler into his cab without a car seat, and now Blake was screaming. When my son woke from a sleep too early, he was almost impossible to console. I tried rocking him, but he hated that. I tried to hum but his cries continued. How much farther until we get there?
No amount of soothing would settle him.
Patrick gave me a see what you did look and pried him from my arms. It wasn’t long before my son’s cries turned into sniffles. Oh for goodness sake.
“Now you’re an expert at parenting?” I asked, not bothering to hide my bitterness.
“He feels your tension.” His tone softened, and I dropped my chin to my chest.
My nose tingled. Not now. Not now. Not now. I hadn’t cried since the funeral.
He touched my thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away, that tingling in my nose more pronounced.
“Is all this lashing out about him?”
My chest ached. I couldn’t think about Jack. I couldn’t not think about him.
“Stay out of it.” The tight confines of the cab suffocated me. “I need out.” I pulled on the door handle, but it was locked. I yanked, but the driver didn’t stop.
“We’re almost there,” Patrick said.
“I need out,” I yelled as bile rose up my esophagus.
“Pull over,” he commanded.
We were still rolling when I got the door open. Vomit spattered the curb and part of the car.
“Jesus, Marlow.” He rubbed my back as I heaved again.
“Get out.” The driver held up his palm for money.
“She’s sick, damn it.” His touch was tender. “You okay?”
I nodded even though I wasn’t.
“It’s three more blocks. You’ll take us.”
The driver grunted as I closed the door.