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I rubbed my thumb and middle finger across my eyebrows, then pressed hard into my temples. He was right, and I knew it. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
We looked over when we heard laughter. Mom had a stack of books on her head and was walking down an aisle striking poses while Paris couldn’t even keep one on her head standing still.
Sal didn’t smile much, but anytime he heard my mom laugh, he couldn’t help it. “Never seen you smile like that, kid.”
I raised a brow. “Like what?”
“Like you can’t help it.”
* * *
After an afternoon of shopping that went better than I thought it would, we walked into the apartment building, and Paris jerked to a halt outside her door. My throat went dry when I saw her staring down at a wrapped box, and all of my protective instincts sparked to life.
She made a move to pick it up, but I put my arm out to stop her and snatched it up. There was a small card taped to the front, and when I flicked open the flap and read the script that said From your brother, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Austin.”
“How sweet that he brings you gifts.” My mom peeked over my shoulder. “What is it?”
“It’s not our business, Mom,” I said under my breath, and she nodded, realizing her question was out of line.
“How’d he get inside?” Sal asked.
I could have asked him the same thing when they arrived this morning, but he could pick a lock faster than a normal person could use their key. I doubted Austin, on the other hand, could, so I was glad Sal brought it up.
“I’m sure someone let him in. Small town, so everyone knows everyone.” Paris shrugged as she opened her door a crack and took the box from my hands. “Thanks,” she muttered to me.
“All right, buttercup, I had so much fun today, but I need to freshen up, and I’m sure you do, too, so we’ll leave you to it.”
“I had fun today, too, Maggie. I need to feed my cats, so I’ll just come over when I’m done, and then we can go to Austin’s.”
I wanted to get Paris alone, but my mom was already pulling me away. “Let the woman have a moment to herself, Nugget.”
“Nugget?” Paris questioned, and Mom’s face lit up.
“Yes. My Scotty has always been a smarty-pants.” She actually pinched my cheek like I was a toddler. “Since he could read, which he did at four years old, by the way, Scotty’s always dropped little nuggets of wisdom. Ask him how many teeth a hippopotamus has.”
“Seriously?” I rubbed the back of my neck and looked at the toe of my brown boots, thinking I needed a new pair. “She needs to feed the cats, Mother.”
Paris put a hand on her hip and grinned. “Oh, they can wait for this. How many teeth does a hippopotamus have, Scotty?”
I rolled my eyes and then narrowed them at my mother’s gleeful smile as I answered, “Thirty-six.” Then I turned to Paris with an exasperated sigh. “Eight incisors, four canines, twelve premolars, and twelve molars.”
She tossed her head back and laughed. I could have stood there all night and watched, but Mom tugged at my arm, and Paris entered her apartment. Even after she shut the door, I could still hear that beautiful sound.
CHAPTER 13
Paris
My hands trembled as I glided liquid liner across the top of my eyelids. I had already applied a full face of makeup and changed from my soft yellow top to a long-sleeved tight, black shirt with holes cut out in the shoulders. I spritzed on some perfume, ran my fingers through my hair to loosen the curls, then slid my feet into a pair of red stilettos.
I didn’t allow myself time to freak out about everything that had happened today because I needed to get through tonight. I still couldn’t believe Austin pulled this shit. He knew I couldn’t say no in front of everyone, and I was pissed. He knew I didn’t want to be a part of his life, yet he put me in a position where I had no choice.
With one final glance in the mirror, I took a deep breath, then opened my medicine cabinet. I took down the bottle of Xanax, opened the cap, and contemplated how many to take. It had been a long time since I felt like I needed one, but my nerves were on overdrive.
My eyes caught on the wrapped box I still hadn’t opened, and I finally tore the wrapping paper off. Inside the small box was a picture frame with a photo of Austin and me when we were kids. A ball of emotion clogged my throat at seeing how happy we used to be.
Austin had to have only been about seven years old, which meant I was nine. We were making hot fudge sundaes in the kitchen, and our mouths were covered in chocolate. On the table was every topping imaginable, and our bowls were filled to the brim with so much sugar you couldn’t even see the ice cream. Our smile was ear to ear as we held our creations up for the camera.
