I frown. “I just took a break.”
“Pity,” he says. “Maybe dinner?”
“Maybe,” I say. “I’ll see if I can get somebody to watch Maddie.”
“Or you could bring her,” he suggests, holding his hands up defensively when I cut my eyes at him. “Or not.”
“I’m sure my dad won’t mind,” I say. “If he’s busy, I know Meghan will be happy to do it.”
“Meghan,” he says, making a face at the mention of her.
“Oh, don’t be that way.” I nudge him, laughing. “She’s been a life-saver. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“I do,” he says. “I know what I’d do without her.”
“Be nice.”
He mock salutes me.
Drew is, well… what can I say about him? He isn’t the easiest person to warm up to, but once you get to know him, he can be kind of charming. Sarcastic, a bit rash, but unshakably determined. We've been acquainted for years, but it wasn’t until recently, when I ran into him while out somewhere with Meghan, that I opened myself up to the possibility of anything happening between us.
It makes sense, you know. I’m busy. He’s busy. He’s one of the few people that I don’t feel compelled to hide my secrets from.
He hates my best friend, though, so that’s a big strike against him, and the feeling is mutual, but that might have something to do with the fact that Meghan’s as protective as bulletproof armor.
“I’ll call you,” I tell him, “as soon as I know.”
“Good.” Reaching over, he nudges my chin. “I’ll see you.”
I wait until he’s gone before pulling out my phone, shooting a text to Megan quickly, since I’m on the clock. Any chance you’re free to watch Maddie tonight so I can steal some adult time?
The bubble pops up, her response coming through. I can be there by 6. Who’s the lucky prick?
Laughing, I type ‘Who do you think?’ before shoving my phone back in my pocket, not bothering to look at it when it vibrates with a message, knowing it’ll be a stream of disgruntled emojis with a few choice curse words thrown in—you know, for emphasis.
There’s a knock at the apartment door, but before I can answer it, the door flings right open and in waltzes Meghan. She’s nearly six feet tall in her shiny red stilettos, at odds with the drab gray dress suit she wears, like she’s not sure if she’s going to work or heading out to a party. That’s Meghan for you. Bright red lips and perfectly messy blonde hair, the kind that looks like she’s doesn’t care, but I know she spent an hour in the bathroom getting it that way.
Her blue eyes narrow, pointed right at me. She’s trying hard to look mad, but she doesn’t have it in her, cracking right away as she makes a face. “Really? Andrew?”
“Could be worse,” I say.
“Could also be better,” she counters. “Wouldn’t be hard, you know. Few people are worse than Andrew.”
Before I can argue, Maddie runs out of her bedroom. “Aunt Meghan!”
“Hey, candy-doodle pumpkin-bread,” she says, scooping Maddie up and swinging her around in circles as she slathers kisses all over her face. “How’s my favorite little munchkin doing today?”
Maddie giggles, trying to ward off the kisses. “Guess what, Aunt Meghan?”
“What?” she asks as she stops twirling, now swaying. Dizzy.
“Breezeo got in a accident, so I made him a card and Mommy says she got it to him!”
“Is that right?” Meghan asks, raising her eyebrows as she regards me, setting Maddie back down. “Mommy gave it to Breezeo, did she?”
“Yep.” Maddie turns to me. “Right, Mommy?”
“Right,” I say, giving her a smile, knowing I’m about to have to explain in a few seconds, so it’s best she gets out of here. “Why don’t you go draw Meghan a picture? I’m sure she’d love one. Wouldn’t want her getting jealous.”
After Maddie runs off, I head for the kitchen, Meghan tromping along behind me. “You gonna spill or do I have to call for a special prosecutor?”
“I think she summed it up nicely,” I say, scouring through the fridge and the cabinets, pulling out stuff to throw together a quick dinner. “She drew him a picture. I gave it to him.”
“How?”
I cut my eyes at her and continue what I’m doing.
“Son of a bitch,” she growls, dropping down into a chair at the kitchen table. “He showed up again, didn’t he? He actually had the balls to show his face.”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“So you talked to him?”
“Yes.”
Meghan covers her face with her hands. “You’re right. It could be worse. Could be much worse, so go and enjoy your night. Because compared to that, Andrew is perfect.”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” I mumble.
She shakes her head, eyeing me warily as I preheat the oven. “What are you doing?”
“Throwing something together for dinner.”
“Why? Don’t you have a date?”
“Yeah, but Maddie hasn’t eaten yet, and Drew won’t be here for an hour, so…”
“So that gives you just enough time to get ready,” she says. “I can handle dinner, no big deal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she says. “Go put on something that’ll make him want to ravish you, you know, if you’re into all that. Gag.”
Laughing, I head to my bedroom to change, throwing on a pair of jeans and a pink blouse before taking it right back off. Ugh. I change three times before settling on a pair of black leggings and a purple tunic, heading back out to the kitchen to Meghan. “How’s this look?”
She casts a glance my way before saying, “Unless he’s taking you to Planet Fitness for some Pilates, it’s a no from me.”
Rolling my eyes, I head back to the bedroom to try again, putting on some flared khakis and a flowery flowing top.
The second that Meghan sees me, she makes a face. “Time-traveling to Woodstock?”
“Funny,” I mutter, going back to my bedroom yet again, putting on skinny jeans and a black top.
“Now you’re not even trying.” Meghan glares at me. “Don’t you have that dress still? You know, that black one with the lace?”
“This isn’t a big thing, Meghan. He’s taking me to dinner.”
“Yeah, well, if you wear the black dress, you might end up being dessert.”
I stare at her for a moment before shrugging. What the heck? Heading into the bedroom, I pull the dress out from the back of my closet, not giving it too much thought before yanking it on. I run my fingers through my hair, letting it do whatever it wants, and am in the bathroom putting on a bit of makeup when Maddie pops up in the doorway. “You look pretty, Mommy.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, gazing at her in the reflection of the mirror as she watches me, her expression curious. I pat the counter beside the sink, inviting her to join me, and she climbs up to sit on it as I grab a tube of lip-gloss, strawberry flavored. She puckers up, and I put some on her, smiling as I do it. “You know I love you, right, pretty girl? I love you more than everything. More than the trees and the birds and the sky. More than even pepperoni pizza and Harlequin novels.”
“What’s a Harley-Quinn novel?”
“Nothing you’ll need to know about for a long, long time,” I say, putting the lip-gloss away. “Just know that I don’t love them nearly as much as I love you.”
She kicks her feet, grinning. “I love you, too.”
“More than chocolate ice cream and Saturday mornings?”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “More than colors and money!”
“No way.”
“And the Yoo-Hoo drinks and Happy Meal toys.”
“Whoa.”
“And even more than Breezeo!”
Eyes wide, I look at her. That’s some serious commitment coming from my superhero-loving girl. “You know, you can love us the same.”