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“Cool. But you know Dan and I can handle it on our own, right?”
In all my world of doubts, that was one I didn’t have—Arlo could run this company himself if he wanted to, and a familiar nagging thought rose to the surface. I’d gone back and forth over my attraction to him versus my desire to get him to be a partner in the company. We worked well together, and I’d thought long and hard about how to broach it. I even had the words in my head, over whether he’d consider buying in, or not buying in. I didn’t care how he became part owner of Byrne Construction, but the thought of it being Byrne-Marshall Construction made my heart happy. But I never said them because I also wanted him in my personal life, and was I admitting that would never happen and trying to keep him close in other ways?
Oh God, my head hurt.
I needed to man up and tell him I was attracted to him. Hell, I should tell him I wanted to kiss him so badly that it hurt, and I wanted him to be a full partner in the company.
I wanted him to not leave. Ever.
“Here’s Woofer, coming to eat ya,” Arlo teased, waggling the stuffed dog in front of Charlie.
Watching the two play with his stuffed dog was a moment of pure joy. Seeing Charlie’s chubby fingers reach out to hold Woofer and Arlo made my heart swell with emotion. Soft coos and almost giggles escaped his tiny lips, and I was tearful because Arlo was here, and I’d been at home with Charlie, and Zach wasn’t here to see it and, fuck, so many things.
I wanted Zach to see each little thing Charlie did, because every movement and sound was a miracle. I’d sent the family chat group so many photos this week they couldn’t keep up, and I’d copied Arlo in on so many he had to think I was crazy. I’d had visits from everyone. Mama had been over every day for one reason or another, but I wished Zach was there.
And I wished Arlo had stayed over every night this week. With Arlo there, I felt as if I could achieve anything.
“You think he looks the same as you?” Arlo’s question snapped me out of my thoughts.
“Charlie?”
“No, Zach. I mean, you’re twins right, and Charlie looks so much like India and Iris as babies, does that mean that you and Zach were identical?”
I wish I knew for sure what Zach looked like now. Was Zach’s hair long the same as mine? Did it wave and curl and defy product? Or was it cut ruthlessly short? Was he military? Was he an ex-con? Did he have tattoos? I didn’t have any tattoos, but I’d always wanted one.
“The only photo I have is one of us as babies, toddlers, whatever; I guess we were eighteen months or so? We look alike. Anyway, when he comes to get Charlie, we’ll find out.”
“What if you don’t want to give Charlie back?” Arlo asked with caution.
“Of course, I’ll give him back. I’m just looking after him for now.”
“What if Zach is a bad guy?”
I tilted my chin, stubborn in my support. “He isn’t.”
“Cool.” Arlo took my words at face value and went back to playing with Charlie.
“You want to eat here? I have more beer?” I changed the subject and threw my normal Friday night line at him.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I want the company, if you want to stay.”
“Did you want me to make us something?”
“How about you let me look after you for once?” I felt the heat on my face. I’d more or less just implied that Arlo was looking after me by cooking, which was true, but I never said it. My repertoire was limited, but I managed to feed myself when Arlo wasn’t around. “I have uhm… pasta?”
Arlo smiled, grinned, his eyes lighting up. He picked up the beer and saluted me. “I won’t say no, and Charlie and I can stay right here. Go do your chef stuff.”
I could see the two of them from the kitchen window—Arlo walking the patio when Charlie was restless, singing what was probably a Beatles song to him until Charlie fell asleep in his arms. By the time I heated sauce and threw together a salad, then tossed fresh pasta into boiling water and opened a bottle of red wine, Charlie was in a nest of blankets, Woofer curled up next to him, and Arlo had long since vanished for a shower.
Never let it be said I was the fastest cook in the world.
I eyed the table in the corner of my kitchen, wondering if Arlo would enjoy sitting down to eat. Normally, we’d be outside, but I didn’t want to be away from Charlie, and I could even use mats, and cutlery, and…
Was a candle overkill? Probably. I set the table and stood back to examine it with a critical eye.
“Wow, fancy,” Arlo teased, and I whirled to find him watching me from the doorway. His hair was damp and spiky, his face clean of paint, and I tracked to his chest and saw he’d taken off the T-shirt he’d changed into and was in one of the shirts he left here—this one was bright orange with a yellow smiley face. He’d changed into navy board shorts that ended below his knee, and he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet. He looked so damn good as I followed the line back up to his face. “Thought I’d make an effort,” he announced and held out his arms to his sides. “Ta-da!”
