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“We’re just months from our wedding. He wants to spend more time with Nora so they can get to know one another better before we move into his place.”
She makes the same face she always makes when I mention moving out of Walton. “So, in other words, he knows Pope’s in town, and he feels threatened.”
I huff, “He knows there’s nothing between Pope and me. He?—”
“Bet? Pope punched Danny because he thinks he hurt you. There’s something, Whit, and it’s not one-sided. You’ve been in love with that boy?—”
“Loved him like family, never in love,” I correct.
“So, you’re saying your brother popped your cherry?”
I launch a pen at her, and she catches it.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like the courthouse to get that order of protection and get it served?” I ask, knowing she pulled an overnight because Spud made bail and Chloe is here until we can get her into temporary housing and back into the workforce.
She stands, eyeing me suspiciously, and then a shit-ass grin spreads across her face. “You took Nora to Nan’s this morning?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question.”
“Then, don’t ask leading questions, Officer York. Get to the point.”
“Fine. Did Pope happen to be with you?”
I sigh and nod. “Yeah.”
She plops back down in her seat. “Spill it, all of it.”
So, I do, every detail and every filthy word.
Two hours after York leaves, I have all the meds sorted for the week and have talked to Chloe about finishing her degree in early childhood education. She’s eighteen credits shy of getting her bachelor’s, and then she could get a job teaching. When she left the office, her eyes were brighter because hope had found its way back inside them.
Typically, on the one day I volunteer, after the meds are done, I go home and putter around until it is time to pick up Nora, but knowing Pope is close by and not wanting another argument—not yet—I turn on the sports network, grab a pen and pad, and make a list of things I need at the store.
When I hear the announcer say Pope, I look up at the small screen and smile, at the replay of his last game, chuckling as I watch him do the same little dance he always does when he’s up to bat.
“What’s so funny?”
I look over my shoulder to find Kal leaning on the doorframe, then glance up at the clock.
“How long have you been standing there?” I turn in my seat as he saunters in, rolling his key to the shelter in one finger.
Kal is an attractive man, and he knows that. He is so conscious of his looks that, sometimes, I feel like I should be grateful he even looked twice at a girl like me who lives in leggings or scrubs. That out of all the women in Walton who light up when they see him walk into a room, it was me he asked to be his wife. Although Kal has never said such a thing, he often makes remarks, that he didn’t even notice me in school, and had I not walked into his office, needing help, he would have missed out.
“Long enough to know your obsession with baseball hasn’t gone away.” He rests against the desk and unbuttons his suit coat before crossing his arms.
“I’m not obsessed with baseball. Softball, yes, but?—”
“I’d love for you to start golfing. That way, we could see each other more often. You could join me and my clients on your days off.”
“I don’t have many of those, but sure.” I smile even though his obvious irritation isn’t putting me in the mood to want to take up golf and hang out with him.
“If the center needs extra funding so that you can spend more time with me, the firm will be glad to increase its donation.”
“I enjoy helping out here.”
He taps the end of my nose. “The future Mrs. Kalvin Seward needs to remember she’s soon to be in a different tax bracket. Baseball”—he holds his hand about knee high—“is a different class than golf.” He raises his hand to eye level.
