Page 7 of I Knead You Tonight

She’s still mouthy as ever, but she’s much more confident than she’s ever been—and that’s saying something because Drew is the most confident chick I’ve ever met.

“In what world does me going home with you makeanysense? The animosity between us is palpable, Winston, not to mention I have ababy. I can’t bring Riker to your house and just set up camp. That’s not how things work.”

“In what world can’t you do that? Put some diapers in a bag and get your ass in the car. It’s not as difficult as you’re trying to make it.”

“Fine. How about I don’twantto go home with you? Are you understanding what I’m saying now?”

I laugh. “You think I want you in my home? Think I’m so fucking eager to have baby crap strewn all over the place and I’m justdyingto be woken up in the middle of the night by a curdling scream? Think again.”

“Then why are you so insistent on me coming with you?” Her angry voice echoes around the lot and I swear I hear someone yell out their window in the distance. Her chest heaves up and down as she works to catch her breath, eyes wide, surprised at her own outburst.

“Because despite how much you like to paint me as one, I’m not a monster, Drew. I can’t leave you at your apartment without a vehicle when you have a three-month-old baby. What if something happens to him? To you? What if Riker gets sick? What are you going to do, Drew? Wait on the bus schedule to post and hope and pray it gets here on time? Fuck that. I’m not willing to gamble your life or your baby’s like that.”

Her mouth hangs open. Closes. Opens.

Slowly, her full lips curve into a cloying smile, like I just hung the fucking moon or some shit.

“What?” I bite out when she doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at me.

“You care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You care. About me. About Riker.”

“I don’t even know your gremlin.”

“No, but you care about me, and Riker is a part of me so you care about him too.”

I groan. “Whatever story you need to weave to get you both back into my car, weave it. Let’s just get this show on the road. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You? An early morning? Doing what—jacking your dick?”

“No. I’ll be doing that tonight. Mornings are reserved for something a little less naughty but just as fun.” I nod toward the apartment complex. “Get moving. We’re on a schedule.”

With a huff, she turns on her heel, and I follow closely behind her.

She takes the stairs slowly, like she’s stalling for time, and it’s physically hurting me to walk this slowly.

“What’s your damage now?”

She peeks back at me, her bottom lip stuck firmly between her teeth. “It’s just…well, don’t judge me by my apartment, okay? I’m doing the best I can.”

“I would never judge you, Drew.”

And it’s true. I wouldn’t.

Judging isn’t my style, and I know how hard she’s been working to make ends meet. I see it every day. She comes in with eyes puffy from lack of sleep. Her hair sometimes looks like it hasn’t been combed in days. She pulls and twists at her neck, trying to get the knots to loosen up for just a few minutes of relief.

I see it all.

It’s the reason I’ve been picking up so much slack around Slice.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m known for being unreliable when it comes to working in my dad’s pizzeria, but that’s because some days the pain is just too much to bear and I have to smoke myself numb to make it through.

Lately, though, I’ve been cutting back on the smoking and trying to fight through the pain.

For Drew.

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