Page 137 of Unruly

“I guess with everything else we’ve been dealing with,” she said, “I forgot that this was still on your to-do list.”

Cross chuckled. “Life doesn’t seem to want to slow down for us, babe.”

“It will.”

She knew it would.

Soon, hopefully.

“I have to head out to California next week, too,” Catherine said.

Cross’s attention was back on the laptop, but he still replied with, “Mmm, you’re little issue with the competition, right?”

“Miguel called earlier when you were gone. He’s got updates for me on the girl—Evira. I want to get rid of that problem before it gets worse. So yeah, I need to head out.”

He seemed to hear her unspoken question.

“Cece will be back soon.”

“When?”

“Soon,” he repeated with a smile, yet never looking at her.

“Do you think I should take her with me on this one, considering?”

Cross did stop working at that question, his fingers hovering over the mousepad but never touching down. “I think you should do what you need to do, and only take her if you’re sure she will be looked after and safe at the same time.”

“She’s already been away from us for a week, Cross.”

“My opinion remains the same.”

Of course it did.

Catherine sighed, and looked out the window of the kitchen. Outside, the dark street blended with just a hint of lamp light, but still seemed empty and cold. She missed their home.

“Miguel will likely be with me,” she said after a minute.

“Likely.”

“Your parents are still in Chicago.”

“Your mother and father will keep her,” Cross pointed out. “Besides, this isn’t going to be a long thing, Catherine. You know who it is, you know what you have to do, and that’s the end of it. Shit, you could get that done in a day and be back the next morning.”

True.

Except …

“Not everyone works as fast as you do, Cross.”

He shot her a grin. “Babe, this little problem of yours has been hanging over your head for a while now. It’s gone on long enough. I already know what you’re going to do the moment you get the chance.”

“Take her out,” Catherine said quietly.

Cross nodded. “Take her out, Catty.”

“Oh, my God, she made Whoopie Pies.” Miguel’s wide eyes flew to where Cross was chuckling to himself across the kitchen. “She made Whoopie Pies.”

“I know—when she doesn’t work, she cooks. She doesn’t like you to point it out, though.”