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Mr. Dixon nearly turned his chair over when he got up. “Sweetheart. Stay. Have something to eat.” His voice cracked.
Marlow stopped. She looked over her shoulder. “I can’t.”
He deflated. Mrs. Quinn reached for his hand.
I dug in my pocket as I walked her to the door. “Here’s my key. I’ll get the pizza and meet you at home.”
She glanced at my keyring in disgust. “Are you sure you want a first-class bitch at your place?”
“Something about her does it for me.” I spoke casually though I felt anything but when it came to Wicked.
The faintest smile tinted her lips. “Extra olives.”
“You got it.” I held open the door for her. When she’d made it to the sidewalk, I caught her by the chin. “I don’t see any overnight bag.”
“That’s because I haven’t been home yet.”
I brushed my lips against hers. “I suppose it’s all right for you to wear more of my clothes.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”
I kissed her again, this time slipping my tongue in her mouth. She met me back with all that fury and fire I craved so much. I wound an arm around her waist, pulled her flush against me. She tangled her hands behind my neck and held me in place.
“Where were we on my list?”
“The floor. Then the wall.” I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. Her nails dug into my skin. “Both of those. Tonight.”
“Not if you don’t bring pizza.”
“I’m on it.”
Once I placedan order at the bar, I sauntered back over to the table.
“Is she okay?” Mr. Dixon asked, worrying his hands in front of him.
“She’s the toughest person I know. She’ll be fine.”
“Why do you always take off after her? She doesn’t want to be fixed.”
Because someone needs to stay by her side.
“She isn’t broken. She’s hurting. Alone. Angry. But not broken.” I threw a few bills down on the table and focused on Andrew. “Maybe, as her brother, you need to give her a little more grace.” I looked at the rest of them. “Maybe all of you need to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Marlow isn’t perfect, but none of you are either.”
“Do you want to know what she said to me today?” Andrew hissed.
“Not really.”
“She asked me if I was worried Ella would end up like her father.”
Trish gasped. Baker slapped her hand over her mouth. That was pretty bad. Awful, really.
“Something’s got to give,” I said.
“Her. I’m tired of being the one to apologize.” He put an arm around his wife, who had gone pale.
“Then you might want to get used to not having a sister or a nephew.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
