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“They’re interview shoes, baby. They make me look like someone people want to give a job to.”
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Dear Ms. Callahan, thank you for your interest. After careful consideration, we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.
Five. That’s five.
“Are you going to be on time?”
My son sits at our tiny table, very straight, in dinosaur pajamas, hands folded like a small, serious banker.
He’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. That’s the first thing I think every time I look at him.
The second thing is always the same.
He has too much of his father in him. The dark hair. The dark eyes. A stillness no four-year-old should have, like he’s weighing everyone he meets and deciding whether they’re worth the trouble.
I ran across a whole city to keep him away from that man. And every morning, that man looks back at me across the breakfast table.
I set the phone face down. “That remains to be seen, my little man.”
He watches me put it down. Then he looks at me, calm as a judge.
“You’re sad,” he says. “Tell me why.”
My hands go still on the buttons.
Tell me why. Same three words. Same low, patient tone, like he’ll wait all day and already knows he’ll win. Five years ago, a man in a wolf mask said them to me across a booth.
“I’m not sad, bub.” I make my voice light. “I’m busy. It looks the same on my face.”
A knock rattles the door like someone’s being chased. Candy.
She sweeps in with platinum hair and vanilla perfume, scoops Matthew up before the door is even shut, and kisses his whole face while he shrieks.
“There’s my favorite man in the whole city.”
“Hi, Candy.” He gives her the big goofy grin he saves just for her. “You smell really nice.”
“Because I’m a lady of refinement, baby.” Over his head, she sees the phone, face down, and me not looking at it. Her smile changes into the real one. “Another one?”
“Five.”
She sets him down in front of his Hot Wheels and waits until he’s busy lining them up.
“You’ve got that look,” she says quietly. “The one where you already decided it won’t work.”
“It’s not pessimism if it’s a pattern.” I jam on the second shoe. “Five interviews, Candy. Every single one loves me in the room. Every single one ghosts me after. We both know what that is.”
“You don’t know it’s him.”
“Who else? Luca can’t get to me anymore, so he makes sure I stay broke. It’s the only power he has left.”
“Broke is like weather. It comes and goes. I watch guys go from baller to broke and back again every week at work.”
“None of those guys have a Santini keeping them down.”
“As far as you know,” she says, and winks.
