Hold On

Fuck, his sister was crazy.

“I see I got the upper hand here—you’re smart as a whip, but I can kill spiders without freakin’ out,” he remarked.

“You live a life in Indiana terrified of daddy longlegs, then we’ll discuss it.”

He had to admit, she had a point there.

He grinned at her.

She gave him a squeeze.

They both looked back out the window.

Blondie was running.

CeeCee was babbling.

Tanner was smiling.

His sister was pregnant.

He felt it.

He held on to it.

Because, in the now, all was just as it should be.

It was happy.





Chapter Seventeen


Tough Chick

Cher



Monday Evening

Mom was in my house, kicked back and watching TV with Ethan.

I was in the Equinox, backing it out in order to head to work but wishing I was going to Merry’s.

We’d had our awesome Saturday night and Sunday morning, and Merry had hung with me and Ethan before he’d taken off to spend some time with his sister.

And as we’d rushed toasting some bagels before getting my kid, we’d agreed that we’d find time to meet for lunch that week and I’d arrange it so one of my nights off, it was just him and me; the other one? it was family time.

Family time.

Merry hadn’t used those words. I hadn’t either.

But I liked thinking of it that way just as much as it freaked me out.

It was all going good.

No, it was going great.

I hadn’t fucked anything up yet, not a thing.

I was happy. Merry was happy. Ethan was happy.

It was a miracle.

That freaked me out too.

Even so, there were bummer parts to it.

Specifically not seeing Merry more often. A lunch here, a night there, lots of sex when we could squeeze it in.

As great as it was, it wasn’t working for me.

I wanted more.

There was no denying it.

I wanted more. And I didn’t know how that had happened. How I went from being a woman who’d lived a life never having what she wanted, now having what I wanted, and still wanting more.

I should be happy with what I had.

Now I had the feeling that being happy just made you jones for more happy and that was where you fucked up. A new kind of fuckup. Not being content with what you had.

I needed just to let myself be happy without freaking out about it and not fuck shit up.

(I still wanted more.)

I hit the street and shifted to drive. I started motoring when I caught something in the light of my headlights off to the left.

I kept driving but did it staring.

Then I did it glaring, anger flaring fast and rocketing straight to fury.

He gave me big eyes. Then he gave me hand gestures.

I ignored both, kept driving, stopped at the stop sign at the end of the road, made my turn when it was clear, and drove two blocks before I pulled over and yanked my phone out of my purse.

I jabbed at the screen and put it to my ear.

My friend Ryan, who right then was sitting in a car across the street from my dickhead neighbor’s house, answered on one ring.

“Cher—”

“Do not speak,” I hissed. “Meet me at the bar…now.”

“I kinda can’t leave my—”

“Ryan, what’d I say about speaking? Get your ass to the bar.”

“But the guy who hired me for this job is kinda scary.”

Oh yeah.

I was ticked.

“Trust me, right now, Ryan, I’m scarier.”

Ryan said nothing.

“You gonna meet me at the bar, like, in two seconds?”

“I’ll meet you at the bar, Cher,” he muttered.

I disconnected.

Then I jabbed at my screen again.

After I did that, I put my phone to my ear.

It rang a long time, then I got Ryker’s voicemail.

“Your surveillance guy just quit. And you’re off my Christmas card list. And if you come into J&J’s and I’m the only bartender on, you aren’t gonna get a drink. And if I didn’t totally dig your missus, I’d never fucking speak to you again.”

After I said all that, I hung up and drove to J&J’s.