I smirk, moving closer to pat her back and help her to the couch inside her cramped apartment. “You okay, ma'am?” I ask.
“Keep holding me like that and I will be.” She laughs again in a husky way that seems to inevitably draw coughing fits.
I get her settled on the couch and then take a seat across from her on a folding lawn chair.
“Did God answer my prayer for a boy toy, or are you here about an apartment?” she asks. The hint of laughter in her eyes lets me know she’s just fucking with me.
“An apartment,” I say. “For now, at least.” I wink.
She laughs again, slapping her knees and rocking on the couch as she coughs up something from deep inside her chest. “I’ve got a few available. Did you want the first floor or second floor?”
“Second floor.”
“There’s 203. That’ll be the nicest one. Barely been lived in since I renovated it last year. There’s 207 as well, but that one has seen better days. Same price, so…”
“I’ll take 207,” I say. Julia’s room is 208, and I want to be as close as I can to her.
She raises her eyebrows. “You sure, handsome?”
“Yeah.” I stand, handing her an envelope with the first and last month’s rent and security deposit inside. “This should be everything.”
She frowns in confusion, opening to leaf through the money as she speaks. “But I haven’t told you...oh. This is the right amount.” She starts trying to stand on her own, but I move to her side, taking her in my arms and helping her up.
She hobbles to a drawer and opens it, rifling through what sounds like a pile of keys before she plucks one key out with a yellow piece of tape on the base that says “208”. I take the key and thank her, heading upstairs. The second floor is the same as the bottom floor, but someone wrote “Jazz” in red graffiti across the wall outside the staircase. I stand in the hallway, feeling my stomach turn over. I did this to her. I thought I was protecting her, but I abandoned her. I left her to this. Logically, I know I can’t be the only cause of her problems. She’s clearly still working as a therapist, which should be good money for a woman living on her own, but there must be something else going on. I hope it’s not drugs. Fuck. Thinking of Carlito and the way his eyes are always lidded and how his mind has been dulled is enough to know I never want her touching the stuff. But living in a place like this, I don’t know if I could blame her.
I clench my fist so hard the key digs into my skin, squeezing until it hurts. I’m going to fix this. I don’t know how yet, and I don’t know what problems she faces, but I’m going to do everything I can to keep her safe and get her out of this mess.
42
Julia
Lauren opens the door to her house looking a little harassed. Her hair is in disarray and her cheeks are flushed.
“Is everything alright?” I ask.
She forces a smile. “It’s fine. Just a little bit of a wild day with the kids.”
My heart sinks. “Was Roman okay for you?”
She hesitates. “He had a rough day, but really, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”
I hear the kids yelling in the background and then a loud thump. I cringe. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you look like you had a worse day than me,” she says, gesturing for me to give her a hug.
I wrap my arms around her and feel a surge of the emotion that has been threatening to break through. He’s back. He’s actually back. What the hell am I going to do?
I’m forced to let her go when I hear Roman start to argue with Amelia. It sounds like they are fighting over a toy.
“Why don’t you come in for coffee?” asks Lauren. “You look like you need to vent.”
I smile a little guiltily. “Maybe a little.”
“Do you want to play referee while I get a pot going or do you want me to?” she asks.
“You get the pot started, I’ll break them up.”
I find Roman standing on Lauren’s couch with a baby doll held high above his head. Amelia, who is about the same age as him, but a little more physically clumsy, is trying to climb the couch to get her doll back and Roman is stiff arming her every time she tries.
“Roman Connors!” I snap.
Both of the three year olds turn their heads toward me, mouths open in surprise and fear.
“You give her that doll right now. I didn’t raise you to be a bully.” A wave of guilt passes through me when I wonder if maybe he learned to be a bully because he has spent his life seeing me get bullied by Ted. Is that what he thinks it is to be a man? To be a bully?
Roman knows better than to put up a fight when I say his full name. He hangs his head and hands Amelia back her doll, even if it’s with a little more attitude than I would prefer.
“Tell her you’re sorry.”
“Sorry, ‘Melia,” he mutters.
I watch the two of them go back to playing, already forgetting the drama, but I can’t. I know it’s just kids being kids, and yet I can’t help thinking about how selfish it is for me to push Leo away for my own personal reasons. The only question I should be asking is what’s best for Roman. Wouldn’t it be better for him to have a father figure? Not if that role-model is a violent killer.
I sigh. Maybe I could give Leo another chance though, one last opportunity to show that he has changed or that he’s willing to. That is if he even wants to be involved in Roman’s life. I really don’t know what kind of man Leo is. I know he’s gorgeous, he’s a criminal, and he’s dynamite in bed—or at least on the couch. Beyond that, I don’t know nearly as much as I should.
I sit across from Lauren at her kitchen table and warm my hands on the coffee mug. Roman and Amelia are disagreeing over who gets to be the fireman and who has to be the cat. Amelia ends up being the cat and sitting on the small cat scratching post, meowing and asking to be saved, while Roman pretends to spray her with water. I’m not sure he understands exactly what firemen do for a living.
Lauren and I watch them for a little while, smiling. “So what’s going on?” asks Lauren.
“He’s back,” I say.
She was about to take a sip of coffee but sets her cup down quickly, leaning forward and bulging her eyes. “Him?”
I laugh in disbelief and sadness. “Yeah. Him.”
“What did he do? I mean, where did you see him? Did he call you?”
“No. He showed up in my office.” I cover my forehead with my hand. “I kissed him. A little.”
Lauren still hasn’t blinked. “Oh my God. What are you going to do?”
I shake my head slowly. “I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”
She sits back, smiling distantly. “To be honest? If he’s half as sexy as you say he is, I’d just sign up to be friends with benefits.”
I sigh. “Lauren, I’m serious.”
She smirks. “Me too. Nothing says you can’t be a sexually active woman and still be a good mother. Just make him wear a condom this time,” she says with a wink.
I can’t help grinning a little. “You’re a bad influence on me.”