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“Fuck you,” I said aloud to my phone before stuffing it back into my pocket.
Then a knock on the door. I walked back toward my mother in the living room, just as she was opening the door.
“Marjorie! How nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Simpson.” She entered.
“Please, it’s Evelyn. What can I do for you?”
“I was in town, so I wanted to stop by and see how you all are doing.”
“We’re taking it one day at a time, as I’m sure you are as well.”
Marj nodded. “How is Bryce? And Henry?”
“Bryce is fine,” I said, entering the living room. “And Henry’s napping.”
Marj reddened a bit. “Hi there.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” I asked.
Shit. Really, Bryce? Did you really just say that? Since when do you speak like an aristocrat?
“Just in town going to the gym,” she said. “Thought I’d see how you, Henry, and your mom are doing.”
“We’re fine,” I said dryly.
“Would you like to see Henry?” Mom asked. “He should be awake by now, and he’s probably hungry.”
“I’d love that,” she said, “if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Come on back to the nursery.”
Marj followed my mom down the small hallway as I looked around. Our humble abode was nothing compared to the sprawling Steel ranch house. Talon and Jade lived in the biggest house on the ranch, the one the Steels had grown up in. Joe had long since built his own home and didn’t want to move back into the main house. Ryan had lived in the guesthouse behind the main house—where I’d be moving if I accepted the offer—until he and Ruby married. They now lived in their own place on the ranch.
No, I wasn’t embarrassed about my home. Only embarrassed that, at thirty-eight years of age, I didn’t have my own.
I truly had nothing to offer Marjorie Steel, who was used to having everything. She was heiress to one quarter of the Steel fortune.
All the more reason not to have a relationship with her.
I could take the Steels’ offer, live in the guesthouse with Henry and my mom. I’d be damned close to Marjorie Steel, though.
Damn.
Damn.
Damn.
I walked toward Henry’s room.
“He’s gotten so big!” Marjorie squealed as my mother pulled a smiling Henry out of his crib. “And still such a good disposition too.”
“He’s the easiest baby in the world,” my mom said. “Bryce was a handful. He had colic and was always wailing. But this little guy”—she cooed—“none of that.”
For a reason unknown to me, I was slightly embarrassed when my mother told Marjorie I’d been a handful as a baby. Nearly four decades ago and certainly nothing I had any control over. Still, I warmed a bit in my cheeks.
Ridiculous. Get over yourself.
