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Cary helps her unfurl it the way her cousin has.
“Who is that one for?” Bhodi asks from the carpet. He slides in between the layers, reclining on a couch cushion he’s using as a pillow.
“Me! We have to practice for the big brother campout. Test the gear!” Cary’s level of enthusiasm makes it hard for the kids to sit still.
“Cool thanks!”
My sister voices how incredibly sweet it is that Cary included Emory by buying her a sleeping bag too. I couldn’t agree more.
“What do you say, Emory?” Laurel prods.
“Fank you, Mister Cary.”
“You guys will be out like a light when your mom and I get back, but you gotta save me a spot here on the floor.” He points at the rug, continuing to talk a mile a minute.
“We will!” They shout in unison.
“We have to go.” He turns to look at me. His face blanks and his eyes darken.
I peer at what I’m wearing. No visible stains. I’m not sure what— Ooh.
As he stands, Cary adjusts his dark dress pants and the lapels of a tailor-made jacket. It’s the first full view I’ve gotten of him and my mouth goes dry. His beard is clipped and the nape of his neck trimmed. The double-breasted suit fits him like a glove.
“Have fun.” My sister sings, and Emory waves.
I back step into the hall, unsure he’s heard their goodbyes considering the heated way he’s stalking toward me like a lion chases a gazelle.
When we’re out of view, Cary’s palms glide against my hips. I let him draw me closer. We had the same reaction to seeing one another.
He brushes his lips against mine with a restraint I’m not sure I’d manage if he wasn’t.
“No sleeping bag for me?” I ask, pouting my lip.
“I have other sleeping arrangements for you.”
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14
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I have never been so damn nervous about a date in my entire life. Even though I’ve texted with Holly, we haven’t been around one another this week.
It’s become normal lately for me to pick Bhodi up from school and bring him to the dealership. We tinker with whatever the guys have on the hood open for in the shop. This week, I’d been looking forward to a glimpse of her when dropping Bhodi at the condo afterward, but the shit hit the fan in the corporate office when one of our higher vehicle line’s transport trucks got in an accident on I-40. The insurance adjuster has had Cass-Stanton Group jumping through hoops. Upon hearing my CFO reportedly signed off on paperwork for upwards of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in destroyed secondary market inventory, I wanted to puke.
Still, that day my company was in the limelight and the responsibility fell on my shoulders. It was the first bad thing to happen on my watch. Nobody cared if I’ve only officially been in charge for a few months. They would’ve used my age against me had I not done the right thing, inspected the damage personally, and drafted a statement about our transportation safety history and reliability in the communities we serve. There are a million people in the Research Triangle, and damage control for screwing up their afternoon commute remained my focus.
I felt like an ass for bagging on Bhodi and called Laurel’s phone—a number I’ve had in case of emergency—later that night, asking to talk to him so I could apologize. The little dude was excited that he’d seen the aerial footage of the crumpled truck on the news. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was one hell of a headache for me. I was just glad he wasn’t pissed.
I’m toeing a fine line with him and Holly and never want Bhodi getting the wrong idea. He wasn’t a means to an end to get in his mom’s pants. I want to spend time with both of them, separately and together. I hadn’t realized two people could demand so much of my attention, nor the guilt of trying to split it evenly. Since the truck accident, the only thought running through my mind has been how not to blow it with either of them.
Wrapped up in the two of them, my playlists shuffled through bands I know doing covers of songs Holly likes on the way to the store this morning to get the sleeping bags. Picking them out, my mind replayed Bhodi’s uncorrupted question about why we had the “sleepover” without him.
Fuck, Holly was on the ball with her reply. Nobody’s fooling anybody tonight. I’m spending the night at the condo and waking up there in the morning. If I need to rely on my wits, then it’s better to have a plan from the beginning to make them both feel special.
Amped, I pretty much barge into Laurel’s place and power past Holly to get to the kids. Their reaction is as if Santa has come down the chimney in spring. It reminds me that while these kids don’t go without, they also aren’t spoiled. I’m starting to believe part of it is the throwback fun Holly and Laurel have living this way. The perception of values and morals of days gone by. Yes, Holly earns her living working for human trash like Jake Ballentine, but Carver Galloway defends her and I’ve never known him to be less than upstanding.
My counselor crams down my throat it’s the sum of the parts—good and bad—which make a person whole. I couldn’t contrast that to my situation before meeting Holly. She’s given a fresh perspective to the way I feel about the man Rex tried to shape me into. The things I’ve done in my past don’t determine my future, and I see how Holly’s choice to work at Sweet Caroline’s isn’t as much about her as what she can do for her child with a good paying job.
