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“Yeah, Bowie was just leaving.”
“Miranda—” Bowie starts, but I cut him off once more with a shake of my head.
“I’ll have Kingston call you tonight before bed,” I say, and he eyes me for a long moment before he lets out a breath.
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah,” I agree, even though he won’t. He’ll talk to our son. That’s it.
Wrapping my arms around my middle, I watch him turn and walk out the door, and the moment he’s gone, Polly comes over and wraps her arms around me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m great,” I assure her, and she leans back so she can see my face. “Promise.”
“I see that.” She pats my cheek, then looks at the coffee and flowers on the counter. “He’s pulling out the big guns.”
“He’s wasting his time and his money.” I pick up the flowers and hand them over to Sammy. “You can take those to Becky.”
“Thanks! She’ll love them.” She grins.
“Do you want the coffee?” I ask her, and she drops her eyes to it before she shrugs.
“Sure, if you’re not going to drink it.”
“I’m not.” I pass her the warm cup, and she takes a sip. “Yummy, hazelnut my favorite.”
I can’t help but laugh. Bowie loves hazelnut, and I hate it. Tucker also likes hazelnut, but the last time I was at his house, I saw a container of vanilla creamer in his fridge that wasn’t there before I mentioned I only like vanilla. I mean, sure, it could be that it was on sale or that he bought it for when one of his brothers is over, but in my gut I know he bought it because of me. Because I told him something, he heard me, and he wanted me to have something I like when I’m at his house.
And that is the difference between a man who wants you and a man who wants you to be happy.
Walking back across the salon, I smile when Emma’s eyes lock on mine, and she grins, knowing without me even saying a word that I’m all right. Bowie has zero effect on my happiness right now. And darn if that doesn’t feel really fricking good.
“Are you okay?” Carrie asks as I put on a fresh pair of gloves, and I give her a soft smile.
“Absolutely.”
“Good,” she whispers, and it takes everything in me not to hug her. But since we are not there yet, I do what I can to make her feel as beautiful on the outside as she obviously is on the inside.
Standing in my bathroom with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, I watch Tucker walk in behind me, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers that mold to him like they were designed just to show off how spectacular his body is. And seriously, it is spectacular to look at, and to touch, and now that Kingston is asleep, I get to do bo—
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re not going to be able to have the conversation we need to have,” he rumbles, and my eyes swing up to his. The look on his face isn’t one I’m familiar with. It’s serious and honestly a little scary. Spitting, I rinse my mouth with water and grab my hand towel to dry my face.
“What happened?”
“We need to talk about Carrie.”
I should have known.
I should have known, because when he met me at Kingston’s daycare to pick him up a few days ago, he took one look at Carrie in my car and instantly got a look on his face that screamed he wasn’t happy about her being there.
And Carrie… after she saw him, she closed down completely. She wasn’t animated or excited like she had been after meeting with Nikki and filling out some paperwork. The spark that started to burn inside her went out like it never existed. And when I asked if she was okay, she just said yes and left it at that, only giving me a quick thank-you once we got to our complex before she hopped out of the car. And I hadn’t seen her since then, until this evening when I ran next door to give her some more information that Nikki gave me. She was happy to see me and once again excited, but when I got back into my apartment I could tell that Tucker had something on his mind.
“What about her?” I ask as he crowds me against the counter, then grabs my waist and lifts me up to sit next to the sink.
“A friend of hers was murdered not long ago.”
“What?” My heart drops into my stomach and sinks to the bottom, causing bile to slide up the back of my throat. Poor Carrie.
“She has never been a suspect, but we also haven’t completely ruled her out as someone who might know something.”
