Page 46 of I Knead You Tonight

“Huh.” I shrug. “Well, whatever. It’s not like him missing work is anything unusual. That boy never shows up to work.”

“Actually…” Wren draws out. “This is the first time he’s missed work in like a month.”

“Is it really?”

“Yep,” she replies. “I was shocked by it too, but my dad confirmed it this morning when we were going over payroll.” She leans across the counter conspiratorially. “Between you and me, he even has some overtime in the books.”

“No shit?”

She nods. “All the shit.”

“I’m shocked,” I say, twisting my mouth up. “I don’t think I’ve ever known Winston to be so…responsible.”

I don’t know why, but there’s this tiny ball of hope forming in my mind.

Maybe Winston’s finally growing up, finding his drive.

For his sake, I hope so. He can’t keep skulking around just waiting for everything to fall into place the rest of his life.

Granted, he doesn’t have as much to worry about in comparison to the rest of the working class, but surely he doesn’t expect to sit around doing nothing forever with no plans of growing up.

Perhaps he’s finally realizing that too.

“Maybe you’re the one rubbing off on him.” She winks, and I know exactly what kind of rubbing off her mind is drifting toward.

I ignore her and pour myself a water.

“Did Porter get in touch with Doris?” I ask, shifting the subject away from anything to do with me and Winston because the last thing I want to think about is us in any sort of sexual situation.

“I’m not sure. They aren’t moving here until next summer, so he’s not in any rush. He’s using the month he’s here to do some house hunting.”

“He has an entiremonthoff work?” I whistle, taking a sip of my water. “Damn. Someone’s fancy.”

Wren laughs. “You’re telling me. They were only coming to visit and then, two days into the trip, he decided he wants to move here, so he took a month away from the office.”

“Seriously? Must be nice to just pack up and do what you want like that.”

“Right? Foster was telling me he’s pretty loaded. He owns an internet security company or something like that and is always traveling for it. I’m surprised he decided to buy out here since the home base for his business is in California.” She steals my cup from my hand and downs half its contents. “Foster said he’s divorced and still dealing with the fallout between him and his ex-wife. I guess maybe he’s doing it to get away from her and get a fresh start? I don’t know. Not my business. I just know Foster is happy to have him here.”

“How old is his daughter?”

“Kyrie? She’s six, and a total spitfire. Keeps Porter on his toes for sure.”

“I can’t wait for Riker to start talking. Right now, all he does is cry. And poop. Then cry some more. I’d just like for him to know any form of communication other than crying to get what he wants. It’s tiring.”

Her lips pull down because she knows I’ve been working myself into the ground since I found out I was pregnant.

Hell, I hardly took any time off when Riker was born. I couldn’t afford to; I had bills to pay.

“How have you been sleeping at Winston’s?”

“Like usual. I—”

No. That’s not true.

Since I’ve been staying with her brother, I’ve had more nights of peaceful sleep than not, a miracle when you have a three-month-old.

“Actually,” I say, “I’ve been sleeping pretty well. Sully’s been a big help.”

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