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She looks surprised. “I do.” She smiles at the book and then at me. “It’s funny, and there are lots of pictures.” Shrugging, she goes back to her reading. Since she wants to get back to her book, I leave her to it. I go in search of June. I need to talk to her, anyway.
The door to her bedroom is open, so I pause outside of it and tap my knuckles against the door. “Knock knock.” Immediately, I feel stupid. When did I lose my game?
She glances up from the laundry she’s folding. “Hey. Did you need something?”
I’m not surprised she asks. I haven’t exactly sought her out. But it still makes me feel shitty. “I wanted to thank you for getting the book for Tabby.” I jut a thumb over my shoulder toward the playroom. “She’s in there reading all alone. With no one telling her to do it.”
“Do you usually have to force her to read?”
“Well, yeah. I keep offering her all sorts of stuff, but I don’t really know what she would like. So, we just read what I liked as a kid.”
“That’s a good start.” She cocks her head. “She probably loves reading with you. But if you want her to pick stuff up on her own, it’s easier to give her a bunch of choices.” She nudges her head toward the wall. There are stacks of dozens of books. “I picked all those up today so I could get a feel for where she is, what she likes.”
I step inside so I can get a better look. “You bought all those for Tabby?” My credit card transactions pop up as notifications on my phone. I got something from an online sporting goods store after she texted me about a basketball hoop. There was something else from the grocery. Nothing about books. “I don’t think I got the receipt for that.”
She waves me off. “I went to the thrift store. You can get used books at places like that for ten cents or a quarter a piece. It takes some digging sometimes, but it’s worth it.” Her cheeks flush. “I read so much that it pays off to search. I exhausted the library stash, so if I want new titles, I will try there. Nerds got to get creative.”
This version of her is irresistible. “I like to read too,” I offer. “Nothing nerdy about that.” Growing up, I used to get crap for how much time I spent with my nose in a book, but like everything else, I just didn’t give a shit. I like the things I like, and fuck anyone who doesn’t respect that.
“What do you like to read?” She asks.
I shrug. “Mostly sci-fi and fantasy. Some horror. Some nonfiction. It depends on my mood. You?”
“I like sci-fi and fantasy, too.” She nods. “We didn’t have many television channels when I was young. My teachers would let me borrow books from the school as long as I brought them back safely. I would read whatever was available, but I prefer paranormal or fantasy, especially if there’s romance in it.”
“You don’t need to spend your money on my daughter’s books.” I step closer, and it’s strange, being in her personal space. “It’s kind of you, but I’m not paying you enough to buy her things.”
Any excitement from talking about books a moment ago fades from her face. “I didn’t mind. I was already there, looking for things for myself.”
“Books?”
“Clothes.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I buy secondhand if I can.”
“You don’t have to spend your money on Tabby. She’s my daughter—”
“It was a gift, Duke.” Her voice is teasing. “You know what gifts are, right? When you give someone something expecting nothing back? Tabby might be my charge, but I like her, and I wanted to do this for her. It’s as simple as that.” When I scowl at her, she laughs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I just told you they were cheap. I probably spent five dollars or something on all of those books.”
I direct my grimace to the stacks of books. They’re uneven, leaning on one side. “You’re sure?” It’s a lot of books for five dollars.
“I’m sure. And whatever she doesn’t like, I’ll give to Lily. She likes to keep a library for the kids.” She pauses, then adds, “if she ever has more kids again.”
“Who’s Lily?” I’m not generally a chatty guy, but it’s hard to leave her room. I keep thinking of things I want to know.
“My foster mom until I aged out of the system. She lives in Moorestown.” She goes back to folding the laundry on her bed. “Lived.”
“How long did you live with her?” I notice what she’s straightening. “Is that Tabby’s shirt from yesterday?”
She waves me off. “I threw it in with my stuff when I was gathering this morning. I didn’t have enough for a full load.”
“We have a housekeeper. She does the laundry.”
“Mrs. Reyes. I met her this morning. She’s lovely.” She smiles again, her big sunny grin.
“Yes, Mrs. Reyes.” Now I cross my arms over my chest. “She cleans, does the laundry, stuff like that.”
“She doesn’t need to clean my clothes.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “She only comes twice a week. What if I need something?” Shaking her head, she continues sorting. “I’ll just do my own. It’s not a big deal.”
I continue watching her. After long minutes, she pauses, looking at me again. “What?”
