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“Yes, what?”
Marlow heaved out a sigh. “Jack liked everybody.”
I wished I’d followed her demand not to talk about him. Beneath the pain that edged her voice was a softness she only displayed with her son. Jealousy of a dead hero wasn’t becoming, yet I felt it anyway.
“Try not to take any shots at Trish,” I said, glazing over the subject it turned out neither of us wanted to discuss.
“How about if I just don’t speak? Would that make you happy?”
“I can think of one time I didn’t mind it.”
She picked up her pace. “It was a mistake.”
It wasn’t my finest moment either. Marlow was off limits. But I’d never call what happened a mistake. It had been bliss.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”
Chapter Nine
Marlow
“Thank you for dinner.”
The words sounded anything but grateful, more like they’d been yanked from my mouth.
Trish brightened. “We should do this more often.” She gazed at our children. “They spent all day together, but it doesn’t seem to be enough, does it?”
I followed her line of sight. No. It didn’t. But I said nothing in response.
“Trish, everything was outstanding.”
She blushed at Patrick’s compliment, and I scowled. He was the essence of charming with everyone but me.
“Are you flirting with your best friend’s wife?” I snarled at him.
I couldn’t take it back, though I wanted to. Trish looked horror-struck; Patrick and Andrew looked as if they wanted to throttle me.
“Unbelievable.” Patrick slung the remaining contents of his wine glass down his throat. “We’ll go before she gets warmed up and the insults really start to fly.” He stood and collected everyone’s empty plates and rinsed them.
I opened my mouth to speak some semblance of an apology, but nothing came out. Instead, I helped Patrick load the dishwasher.
His shoulders were rigid. He didn’t speak to me until we were in a cab.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”
“I—” What was the point in trying to explain myself? He wouldn’t believe me, let alone understand.
Blake slept in my arms. I held him close and looked anywhere but at Patrick. I just wanted my bed and yet, I didn’t want to go home.
“Wicked, I want to help you, but you have to want it more than I do.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” I shouted.
The driver glanced back in the rearview mirror. Blake woke and burst into wails.Oh no.
The driver had already been angry that we’d taken a toddler into his cab without a car seat, and now Blake was screaming. When my son woke from a sleep too early, he was almost impossible to console. I tried rocking him, but he hated that. I tried to hum but his cries continued.How much farther until we get there?
No amount of soothing would settle him.
