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“Give me my child.” Marlow shook her arms, her expression that she meant business.
Blake gripped the lapel of my suit.
“You’re not ready to go are you, how now?” We grinned at each other, though I hoped I didn’t have the same string of saliva connecting my mouth and shirt like he did.
“Let me keep him. I haven’t seen my grandson in weeks.” Mr. Dixon fixed his daughter with a stare I wouldn’t argue with. But this was Marlow we were talking about.
“Some other time.” She picked up her purse and pried Blake from my arms. “You’re the last person he needs to influence him.”
The parting shot stung, but it was the one thing she’d said all night that was the truth.
Chapter Three
Marlow
This was a mistake.
I backed out of the restaurant, nearly hitting a man with the door.
“Don’t worry, I’m good,” he said.
I didn’t even look up, let alone mumble an apology. I ran completely out of fucks nearly two years ago. No way would I change for a stranger when I couldn’t give my family the courtesy.
“Wicked.”
I gripped the handles of the stroller and picked up my pace.
“What the hell was that back there? Are you determined to ruin anything related to your brothers and their weddings?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, that’s real nice.” Patrick fell in step beside me. “Why did you even show up if you were going to act that way? It was worse than awful, even for you.”
“Then why are you chasing me?”
“Because I don’t want you to alienate the people who give a shit about you.”
“Don’t act like you’re one of them,” I spat, pausing when I approached a crosswalk.
“I didn’t mean me.” His words were acid. I deserved them, but they burned no less.
“Mind your own business.”
“They know you. Or they thought they did. Your offer to work for Holt was the equivalent of an olive branch. But that attitude”—he waved his hand behind him—“it’s not going to cut it.”
“When did you become the moral authority? You’ve defended murderers, rapists, husbands who kept their wives as sex slaves.” I flashed him an insincere smile.
“I’ve never denied any of that.” When the man on the crosswalk signal lit green, Patrick continued with me. “Wicked, you’ve made your feelings about me perfectly clear. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. But those people around that table are family to me. You can’t treat them like they’re nothing.”
“They’remyfamily. Not yours.”
“Start acting like it.”
I halted. Heat sizzled between us. Hate and lust in one giant clusterfuck.
“Get over it, Marlow. Don’t be a bitch, Marlow. Be strong for Blake, Marlow.” I mimicked all the implied advice thrown at me over the years. “I’m a good mother. I’m honest. And if they or anybody else doesn’t like it, they can go screw themselves.”
I deflated as soon as the rant escaped me. None of them understood. And no one was going to tell me how to behave. If they’d been through what I had, they’d be this hard too.
