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Perrie blinked. “He has what?”
Shit.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Damn it. I assumed you knew that.”
“No.” Her voice was a little over a whisper.
Ten points for me. Or not.
“He basically has a college fund for your daughter, in her name, for when she’s old enough to need it. He cares about you. This isn’t a man who believes you made the wrong choice. It’s a man who, I think, was intimidated by the words he said.” I reached for my purse and pulled out the silver business card wallet I used for my cards.
I dug for a pen and scribbled my cell on the front. She dropped her shocked gaze to it when I slid it across the table with two fingers.
“That’s my personal cell. If you want to talk or you want to see him…Call me.”
She took it.
I didn’t think she would, but she did.
“Does he want to see me?” she asked me quietly, staring at the card.
“I think he’d move a mountain to see you if he could,” I said honestly.
She nodded, each movement slow and if the clouded look in her eyes was anything to go by, full of confusion. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome. Sorry this wasn’t what you expected.”
“Are you kidding?” She looked up. “This is the first conversation I’ve had in weeks that didn’t involve my boobs or why I’m stepping on Barbie’s shoes every five minutes. It wasn’t enjoyable, but I’ve had worse.” Her lips twitched sadly, but she tucked my card into her purse all the same.
It wasn’t even sadness. There was something more hollow about the way she’d spoken. Something…defeated about her.
“Bye, Dahlia. Thank you.” She tapped the table before getting up once again, but this time, she didn’t stop as she walked away.
That air still followed her. That sad air that said she was stuck where she was, buried inside a life that she couldn’t get out of.
And damn my feet for having a life of their own, because I jumped up and chased after her.
“Perrie!” I called her right before she could shut the bar door behind her. “Perrie!”
She stopped in the doorway, sunglasses in hand, and turned back to me. “Yeah?”
“Hold on,” I said, stepping outside and moving so someone could walk into the bar. “Can you tend bar?”
She glanced away nervously before meeting my eyes. “I have before. Why?”
“On that card. If you’re interested, I need another staff member. Someone just left and we haven’t replaced him yet. Call the number for The Scarlet Letter and ask for Abby.”
“You don’t need to offer me a job just because you’re sleeping with my brother.”
“You’re right, but I’m not.” I pulled my own sunglasses from my purse, then touched her arm. “I’m offering you an interview.”
“Why? You don’t even know me.” Her eyes were narrowed.
I slid my glasses over mine. “Because I believe you deserve more than the shit your life has thrown at you. Think about it.”
Then, I left her standing in the doorway as I took to the crowd of people on the sidewalk and headed down to the nearest coffee shop to think about how royally I could have fucked everything up.
***
By the time my day was done, any concern I’d had for the apparently silent-Damien had long disappeared. If he was going to contact me, he would. Otherwise, I would give him the space he needed.
Not to mention I was still thinking about my meeting with Perrie. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it all day long.
Maybe I’d overstepped the mark, but I had a feeling she was a lot like Damien. All they really needed was for someone to care about them. To take hold of them and say, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here and I can help you if you want it.”
I’d been a fixer my whole life. I had to be a fixer—without me, I don’t know if my dad ever would have survived my mom’s death. I fixed all the things that were broken, like Sunday morning breakfasts, football games, and hell, I even started buying her hairspray just so it would linger in the house.
I didn’t even use it. But it fixed that part of her that was missing.
This was a different desire to fix. I couldn’t change the situation—I couldn’t even slide into it to attempt it. All I could do was do what I was doing.
Stick my nose where it didn’t belong.
I pulled up outside my house and killed the engine of my car. Tired was the word I could use to describe myself right now. I yawned three times as I made my way to the front door and let myself in. Fresh flowers sat on the side table to my right, so I knew the house had been cleaned.
I did most of it myself, but Mrs. Valerie had been employed by my parents for years, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t need her to come in once a week anymore.
