Page 7
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her.
“It feels like it is. If you really want to help out, there’s a lot of stuff. The outside is a mess, but I’d rather the inside gets handled first.”
The pot gives an extra-loud gurgle, and the rich scent of coffee brewing fills the air.
“I’ll pay you,” Julia says. “I don’t have much, though.”
I wave my hand, stopping her right away. “Fuck, no, you aren’t paying me.”
Relief flashes across her face, but it’s quickly stifled. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not having you do work for nothing.”
“It’ll look good on my resume,” I retort. “I didn’t come here to take your money. I don’t need it.”
“Oh, because you’re so rich?” Her lips twist.
“Because there’s nothing I can buy that would make me happier.”
The coffee finishes brewing at that moment, plunging us into silence. Julia stares at me and I can tell she’s wondering if she can really accept me working on this house for free. I look right back at her, firm. I meant what I said. I don’t want or need her money. What I want and need is to be around here, helping her.
“I…” she begins.
At that moment, the front door of the house opens interrupts her. A stooped figure with baggy clothes and a curly blonde halo enters. The stylish hair and frumpy outfit are at such odds with each other that there can only be one explanation. Julia’s mother, Ruby, just got back from an appointment at the salon. She’s even got color in her hair, little pops of reddish-pink here and there.
“Mom!” Julia exclaims. “Done already?”
Ruby drifts inside and kicks off her ratty shoes to reveal rattier socks. “Already?” she murmurs. “It’s been hours.”
“Has it? I must have lost track of time.” She shoots me a nervous look, shifting on her feet.
“Come inside, Artie,” Ruby says, speaking to someone outside.
Who the fuck is Artie? A dog? Cat?
Ruby lifts her head to finally see me standing there in her kitchen. She falters, her mouth opening. No words emerge.
I’m still thinking of what to say when something else enters the house and runs straight to Julia.
No. Not something. Someone.
A boy. A small boy. I don’t know how old. Not a toddler, but not much older than that. His hair is dark and tousled, and his little glasses magnify his big blue eyes to enormity.
“Mommy!” Artie says, and hugs Julia around the legs.
Mommy.
Artie is Julia’s son.
Chapter 4
Julia
Bending down, I hook my hands under Artie’s arms and lift him up to hug him. He puts his arms around my neck and lays his head on my chest. He loves listening to my heartbeat and I love having him there, though he gets heavier by the day. I rub my fingers through his dark curls and kiss the top of his head.
“Were you a good boy for Grammy?” I ask.
Artie nods vigorously and I believe him. He’s always a good boy.
A choked sound beside me reminds me that I’m not alone in the kitchen. Glancing over the top of Artie’s head, I see Wolf looking at me as if I’m a ghost. Or, as if the boy in my arms is the ghost.
