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“Why did I bother?” she muttered.
“What happened to me being unqualified?”
“Have you ever been desperate?”
“Why don’t you just tell Holt you can’t help him tomorrow? Or why don’t you just take Blake with you?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“What are you up to?”
“Will you or not?”
“What time?”
“Should I bring him to your place or the office?”
“Want me to come to the garage?”
“So you’ll keep him?”
“Are you desperate?”
“Am I calling you?”
I rubbed my temples and sighed. “Will you bring donuts?”
“Donuts?”
“Is that too much to ask?”
“Shouldn’t you have something of more nutritional value?”
“Since when do you care?”
“So tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
I hung up the call and felt dizzy. What the hell had we just agreed to? I was keeping Blake again. Gerard was going to love that. Where the hell was I picking him up?
I flipped off the master light switch and punched my pillow. I pulled the duvet up, then got hot, so I threw it off. I couldn’t get comfortable on this side, so I rolled over and got a whiff of toddler and Wicked. I punched the pillow again, tried to settle in.
Eventually, I hugged the pillow she’d slept on, but it was a poor substitute. One night with the two of them in my bed and it felt wrong being in it without them.
“What time will you be home?”
I held up both hands. “No, no, no. Today we are communicating in sentences, not questions.” I offered Marlow a banana.
“How am I supposed to find out when I need to get him?” She peeled the skin and bit of the end.
“Wicked, I was literally dizzy after talking to you last night. My head still hurts.” I held out my coffee cup to her and she shook her head. “You still not feeling good?”
“Was that a question?”
“Fuck me.”
She laughed, and I leaned against the counter for support.
