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Heated Takeover

Page 80

by Mia Mara

I smile meekly. “I tried.”

“You do more than try, kiddo,” he says, setting the tongs down. “Everyone is having a great time. Jamie is having a great time.”

We both look over at Jamie, who is splashing around with Marcus.

“You do a hell of a job at everything you do,” he tells me as we continue to watch.

“About that,” I say, the tears returning to my eyes.

“You know, I was talking to Marcus earlier,” he cuts me off. “And I have to admit something about him.”

“Oh?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he nods with a sigh. “I was wrong about him. He’s not the man I thought.”

“How so?” I ask.

“He knows what he’s doing. I hate to say it, but he might just be M.E.’s saving grace.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. Because I don’t know what else I can say at this point.

Chapter 30

Marcus

I’m not going to pretend that I don’t see Natalie and Jim watching me and Jamie in the pool. Whatever they think about me is none of my business. At least that’s what I am going to tell myself. Because honestly, I do care what Natalie is thinking. But I’m also not the one who pumped the brakes so hard that we left skid marks.

I can also tell that Natalie and Jim are talking about me. Jim’s expression is more accepting than it was before, but Natalie looks like she’s going to be sick.

“Hey, buddy, why don’t you play with your friends again in the splash pad? I need to go talk to the grown-ups,” I tell Jamie, who instantly pouts.

“But I want to play with you,” he whines, grabbing my hand, and it tugs at something in my chest. He’s not a shy kid when he gets attached. He’s like Velcro.

“We can play again soon,” I smile at him, setting him on the side of the pool before I hop out. He is eye-level with me right now, and for a moment, I study his little face. Dark hair, darker than his mother’s for sure, which is funny because most kids’ hair darkens as it gets older, not the opposite. His eyes are also dark, not green like Natalie’s, and his pout is almost more of a scowl.

I’m not stupid. The kid looks like me.

It doesn’t align with the story Natalie told me about his biological father, though. Actually, as I’m thinking about it, her story feels like she’s reaching. I mean, come on! A poet…at a coffee shop? Natalie is no-nonsense, practical, and smart. She’s not really a romantic compared to other women. She’s the girl who probably spent her Friday nights in high school tweaking science projects, not going on dates or flipping through magazines. She would eat a poet alive.

And maybe she did…

I frown at the idea of it. At the idea of her with anyone at any point in her life who isn’t me.

I don’t want to think about it. Any of it. Not right now. I have too much going on right now. If the poetry man isn’t Jamie’s father, that’s a whole thing. And right now, everything is made of glass. I need to be smart and keep my emotions in check.

Just as I shove myself up and out of the pool, Margaret David walks up to Jim and Natalie. Her arms are full of colorfully wrapped gifts, and as usual, she is put-together, dressed to the beachy nines and smiling through red lipstick.

She stops near Jim and Natalie, saying a few things to them with a smile, though their faces tell me that whatever she is saying is more serious, and Jim nods. Then all three of them look over at me before Natalie heads in my direction. I meet her halfway.

“Margaret wants to talk,” she says, clearing her throat as she does her best not to look at my wet torso. She’s failing, by the way, and we both know it. So would anyone looking in our direction.

“Alright,” I say as she hands me a towel and makes sure Brittany has eyes on Jamie. The four of us walk over towards the parking lot, away from the party.

“Sorry to bring business to the party, but I really wanted to get all of you together for this conversation. I’m not the world’s most patient woman, as I’m sure you all know,” Margaret starts in. “I don’t tiptoe around conversation either, so I’m going to get to the point. I did a little digging myself. I had lunch with Janice; you all remember Janice.”

“Of course,” Natalie says.

“The accountant,” Jim says, and I nod, even though I already know.