“She was in when he was done with her, and she’d cleaned up and she tucked me in,” I finished.

“Baby girl,” she whispered, her voice thick.

“If things work out for me and Johnny, they’ll get used to it. If they don’t, I don’t care. In the meantime, I don’t care. He likes me, Deanna. He drops to the floor with Brooks and tickles him and he shovels shit right back at Addie when she’s shoveling it at him, and Addie loves it, and he looks at me like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. That’s all I care about.”

“You happy?” she asked quietly.

“I’m scared and I’m ecstatic,” I answered.

She studied me for a while then she lifted her chin and warned, “I best be meeting this boy and soon, Iz.”

I grinned. “I’ll talk to him, but how’s Saturday sound?”

“I won’t talk to Charlie. I’ll tell him his behind is at your place on Saturday and it’s not a free meal. He’s got a job. The job of sizing up your new fella.”

Charlie would love Johnny. Two peas in a pod, just two different colors.

“That’ll be great.”

“If you’re ecstatic, I’m ecstatic for you,” she told me.

I grinned again.

“And if I hear anyone say anything, I’ll set them straight.”

I stopped grinning. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Still doing it.”

I shook my head.

She raised a raspberry-tipped finger and pointed it at me.

“Now from here on in, I don’t get news on a forty-eight hour delay. Am I heard?”

I was back to grinning. “You’re heard, Deanna.”

“Yeesh, we’re gonna get fired things don’t settle down with Johnny Gamble. We never get any work done.”

I looked at my watch then told her, “It’s eight twenty, Deanna, we’re done with the update and I’ve already cleared my inbox.”

“That’s because you’re an overachiever.” I thought she was in the middle of making a quip but knew she wasn’t with the sudden change in the way she was looking at me. “You didn’t get much from your dad, but even if it was forged through adversity he gave you the drive to find something better in your life. That’s yours. You work it. You own it. But he gave it to you. I’m not saying you should be grateful. You don’t thank a rapist for teaching you how to be more careful as you walk to your car at night. But you own the strength you earned by getting through that even if it’s all kinds of unfair you had to find that strength. He played a part in making you the Izzy you are, and you should be proud this is who you became when it could have gone another way entirely.”

“Stop making me wanna cry when my makeup is this fresh,” I retorted.

“Whatever,” she muttered then asked, “Lunch?”

I nodded.

“And just saying, you’re keeping Addie and Brooks from me too.”

“I’ll ask her to bring Brooks into the city for lunch tomorrow.”

“Huh,” she puffed out (which meant in Deanna-still-kinda-annoyed-at-you speak “okay”).

With that, she strutted out of my office.

I watched her then went to my phone on my desk.

Deanna wants to meet you, I texted Johnny.

Almost immediately I got back, Knew that was coming.

She’s good people, I shared.

Figured that, he replied.

Saturday at my place? I asked.

I’ll be there, he answered.

See you later.

You absolutely will.

I smiled at my phone.

Then I got to work.

I hurried in the back door of Home and saw there was only a smattering of people, Johnny one of them, sitting on the stool he sat on the night we met.

It was not lost on me I had attention well beyond people turning to look and see who was coming in the door.

I just ignored it as I made my way quickly to Johnny.

“Sorry,” I said, sliding between him and the stool where I’d sat when we met. “You been waiting long?”

“Babe, I’m at a bar with the game on. It’s not a hardship to sit here and drink beer.”

I grinned at him.

He stared at me.

“Everything okay?” I asked, setting my purse on the bar and hefting my behind up on the stool.

“You are totally not with the program,” he muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Babe, kiss me,” he ordered.

That sent the trill up my spine.

I leaned into him and touched my mouth to his only to have him cup the back of my head, making the kiss longer, sweeter, but keeping it light.

He let me go and murmured, “Have a good day?”

I nodded.

“You want a glass of wine?”

I nodded.

“What you want?” he asked.

My eyes trailed away as I mumbled, “Um . . .”

“Sally, you got a wine list?” Johnny called.

Sally, the bartender, looked at him like he’d gone crazy.

Johnny looked to me. “It’s house red or house white, and maybe if you’re lucky, house rosé.”

“White,” I said.

Johnny turned back to Sally. “Can you get my girl a glass of white?”

“Sure thing, Johnny,” she said and moved to the wineglasses suspended upside down over the bar.

Johnny took a tug of beer.

After he swallowed, I asked, “You have a good day?”

He’d been positioned facing the bar through all this and only then did he twist on his stool toward me, put a forearm on the bar, fingers still wrapped around his beer.

“The goal for having a GM is that people bring in cars. I fix them. I know they’re not gonna like how much it costs so I can tune that out. They drive away with something fixed. I work on the next car. In other words, being able to tune out the only shit I might take, I don’t have to deal with any shit. So, spätzchen, it’s rare I have a bad day.”

I smiled at him. “That’s cool.” Sally put my glass in front of me and I turned my smile to her and said, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she murmured and moved away.

“News about Addie?” he asked.

I took a sip, put my glass down and told him, “She still hasn’t shared.”

“How long is she staying?” he queried.

“Maybe forever?” I replied in a question and saw his brows go up. “She hasn’t said how long she’s staying but she’s gone so far as to unpack in my guest room and set up a makeshift nursery for Brooks in my office. And she brought a lot of stuff, Johnny. She’s a waitress. It’s at a high-end place so she makes a lot on tips. But she’s hourly. She doesn’t get paid for vacations.”

“This isn’t getting better,” he muttered.

“No,” I agreed.

“You good with her staying forever?” he asked.

“Totally,” I answered.

His lips hitched. “Figured that was a stupid question.”

I leaned toward him, scooting my wineglass closer, and grinned.

“You talk about your mom, Izzy, know your sister, what’s up with your dad?” he asked.

I leaned back, scooting my wineglass away, and my grin died.

“Iz?” he called as I lifted the glass and took a sip.

I swallowed it and requested, “Can we keep tonight light?”

“Sure. But just to say, baby, I’d like to get to know you better and talking about your sister’s possibly disintegrating, possibly already crashed and burned marriage isn’t exactly featherweight.”