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What the fuck is she talking about? We’re not in a middle-of-nowhere, small town, USA. “This is New York.”
“But you’re living in this apartment building. We’re like a family.”
I cock a brow. “You live here?”
“I own it. I spend most of my time next door and even have a bed in one of the rooms in case I don’t feel like going home.”
“So, where is home?”
“North, east… not far.”
Piper seems like an open book, but she doesn’t give out too much information. “You’re being cagey again.”
“Look, you got a key lime pie from Ms. Tipton!” she squeals.
“I’m guessing it’s good?”
“The best.” She gestures with a chef’s kiss. “You’re a lucky man, Derek Farrow. Your neighbors are lovely. If you ever feel like helping them change light bulbs or things like that, I’ll appreciate it.”
“You do that for them?”
“Of course. It’s part of living in a community.”
“I’m not that social.”
“You’ll learn.” She stands, and her face is almost beaming. “So, we have lunch and dinner for today. That leaves us with plenty of time to discussthe childrenand get you settled in.”
“You’re a force, Piper Cooperson.”
“I’ve heard that before. Now talk to me about these kids who I assume are your nieces and nephews.”
Normally, I wouldn’t give two fucks about the subject, but there are innocent lives at stake. Piper listens to me without interruption. This is the first time I’ve told someone about my family. From the moment Mom caught Dad cheating to my current situation with Sharon.
Piper is holding my hands as I finish the story. I don’t know why I feel so calm after reliving my past. This is so uncharacteristic of me. Not even my therapist learned about my childhood. The few sessions I attended focused on getting shot and barely making it out alive.
“It’s a shit show, isn’t it?” I ask, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“Sorry about your mom,” Piper says, squeezing my hands gently. “I can see why you’re concerned about your niece and nephews.”
“They’ve been in this battle for at least a year, and what if they drag it out longer?”
“Do you think your sister can go to therapy?”
“I wouldn’t know. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“I understand, but she needs guidance. You might think that she reached out to you just because she needs money, but maybe she’s all alone.”
The buzzer interrupts us, letting us know the furniture is here. Three hours later, my place looks like a home. I hate to admit I like it.
“I don’t remember buying those bookcases.”
“You were on the phone.” Piper shrugs as if saying it was an executive decision.
“Thank you for helping me with the place. Now, how much do I owe you?”
“Take it as a housewarming. A welcome to our small community.”
“So, you won’t kick me out?”
