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“And who are you?” she asks after doing a three-sixty spin to look at the foyer.
“I’m Sullivan Morris. I take care of the boys while T—Mr. Barclay’s at work.” I swallow hard, nervous at the almost-stumble. I don’t think anyone noticed. God, please tell me neither of them noticed.
“And that’s where he is now?” she asks, this time only raising one eyebrow but it’s a lot more intimidating.
“Y-yes?” Goddammit, stuttering and asking instead of telling isn’t going to win me any points, is it?
“Is he?” she presses.
I nod, but thankfully Johnny’s there to save the day.
“He is.” His voice comes out gruff and deeper than normal—though it’s plenty deep enough on a regular day. “The Keys have an important game against the Tigers today, and he wanted to be there at least for the start of it to support his sister and the team.”
“Baseball games can run over three hours,” she says and her judgemental tone doesn’t help my assessment of her as a hard-to-please woman. She raises her wrists and tsks-tsks when she looks at the time. “Where are the boys now?”
“They’re in their room napping. They had a lot of fun in swimming class today,” I mumble hurriedly. “Tucker is always here for dinner.”
He is.
He hasn’t even missed one since I’ve been here.
“And how long have you been employed by Tucker?” Damn, is she a mind reader?
She clearly wants to make me nervous. I guess if you do what she does for a living you learn that nervous people let the truth slip or lie so badly the truth just naturally comes out.
“Well, two weeks, but—”
“Weekends too?”
I hate how fast my cheeks warm up with a blush.
“No, only weekdays.”
She hums very judgementally at that.
“I’ve been Mason and Maddox’s security detail since they turned one, and I can tell you Tucker has always made it a point to spend at least a couple of hours a day with the boys even before he became their sole guardian. And now that he’s taken over all the family businesses and is under immense pressure from the fans of their teams and the press, he’s still putting them to bed every night, having breakfast with them every morning, and listening to every word the boys say—which can be about a million a second.”
I look up, mouth agape, at Johnny.
“That,” I say when I turn back to look at dear old Norma and point my thumb to Johnny. “No one will take better care of the boys than Tucker.”
“Not even you?” Her eyes land on me like a missile radar, and I very much feel like prey, but that shouldn’t matter because what matters is the truth.
“No, not even me. I have a BA in early education and a masters in pedagogy from Steele University and I can tell you in no uncertain terms that Tucker is Maddox and Mason’s favorite person in the world and they always want to be with him.”
“They’re three,” she says deadpan, like it’s the only argument that has ever or will ever matter. “And they have three older sisters who are all mothers, an uncle who’s not as busy and could dedicate all his time to educating them, and an aunt who’s young enough to keep up with them and also has a lot of time.”
I don’t hold back my snort.
“I’ll give you the fact that any of their sisters would be amazing guardians for the boys, but they all have busy jobs and already have children of their own to take care of. As for the uncle and aunt, they haven’t come by to see them once since I’ve been here.” I turn to Johnny. “Have they seen the boys since their father was murdered?”
I very deliberately say murdered because if that aunt or uncle are related to the boys’ mother, then I personally don’t trust them at all.
“No,” Johnny says definitely and without taking his eyes away from Norma. “I don’t recall the boys meeting them prior to their father’s funeral, and they didn’t even approach the boys then. Only Tucker.”
She stares up at him without so much as flinching, I have to give it to her, and I almost wince when she’s back to staring at me.
“You have a lot of opinions.” It’s a statement but it definitely sounds like a guilty sentence.
