I sighed. “I can give you—”
“You’ve given me enough.” She looked away. “I fucked up again, didn’t I?”
I didn’t want to kick someone who was already down, so I just shrugged. “We can’t help who we love.”
“But I don’t love him,” she muttered. “He was so good with Alex, he had a decent job when we met, and I thought I’d learn to love him. Then everything went to shit. God, I’m a mess.” She swiped at her eyes.
“If you want to leave him, we can make it work,” I whispered. “I should be set to get an apartment by June. We have six months to figure it out.”
“I have two kids. What will I do with them while I work so I can pay my share of the rent?” she asked sadly.
“Alex will be in school all day next year, and if Remy gets me the raise he’s promised, I can keep Daphne with me during the day. You could do something part-time maybe, just enough to buy groceries and pay utilities. I’ll handle the rent and stuff. And Craig will have to pay child support, whether he wants to or not.”
“With what? His good looks?” She scowled. “Damn, girlfriend, how did we wind up like this?”
“We’re going to be fine,” I told her firmly. “Whatever it takes, we’re going to be okay.”
“Two weeks ago I was lecturing you about not trying to make a better life for yourself, and look at me now, the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Nothing is that black and white,” I said gently. “You have kids to think about.”
“Con!” Craig came stalking down the concourse, his face a mask of fury.
“How’d it go?” she asked, turning to him.
“Fuckers didn’t want me,” he grunted. “Fucking prejudiced assholes. They said I didn’t have enough experience.”
“Well, you don’t,” I pointed out.
He gave me a dirty look. “Oh, shut up, will you, Noelle? At least I’m not homeless.”
“At least I have a job and a college degree,” I shot back.
“Stop it.” Connie had tears in her eyes. “Both of you. This isn’t helping.”
“Hey, guys.” Remy came walking down the hall and Connie quickly turned away, swiping at her eyes.
Remy and I exchanged glances as he took in the tense situation, but I gave a slight shake of my head, hoping he hadn’t heard Craig’s comment about me being homeless and indicating he shouldn’t comment.
“We probably need to get going,” Craig muttered, not even acknowledging Remy.
Remy didn’t seem to notice, or at least was pretending like he didn’t, and turned to all of us. “What do you say we go out for a late dinner? My treat.”
“It’s getting late,” Connie murmured. “The kids have to go to bed.”
“Why?” I asked her. “It’s not like they have to be at work in the morning. Come on, let’s go get some food.”
“I could eat,” Craig said, perking up a little at the offer, which just made me hate him more.
“Have you figured out if you’re going to hire anyone else?” I asked Remy as we headed out to the parking lot. Craig and Connie were going to meet us at a diner not too far from here.
“Not yet. Why?”
“Connie really needs a job, and a place where she can bring the kids if she has to.”
“I haven’t figured out the details yet,” he said, “but let me think about it. I’m going to talk to my accountant tomorrow to go over the numbers and then I’ll know more. Okay?”
“Thank you. I appreciate how kind you are to her, especially when Craig is such a dick.”
“Guys like him…” he shook his head. “Well, she definitely deserves better.”
“She knows it too. If she can find a job here in Garland Grove, she might move back and we can get a place together, without Craig.”
He opened his mouth but then closed it again. I wanted to ask what he’d been about to say but figured it would bring up topics I wasn’t comfortable with. Like my living situation, which was strictly off-limits conversation-wise.
“I get the feeling he’s not going to give her up that easily,” he said after a moment.
“You think?” I glanced over at him.
“He just strikes me as the kind of guy who won’t respond well to her leaving.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I admitted.
Chapter Nineteen
Remy
* * *
Dinner was mostly a stilted affair, with Craig bitching nonstop about the garland factory’s refusal to hire him and Connie dealing with both kids. Craig was one of those guys who gave the rest of us a bad reputation. He had no interest in either of the kids, not even his own, and ordered three beers before our food even arrived. I couldn’t think of anyone who’d annoyed me more than Craig in years, and it took a lot of self-control not to tell him exactly what I thought of him.
Noelle did her best to engage with Alexander and talk about random things, just to keep things light, but Craig was nothing if not tenacious, consistently bad-mouthing the garland factory.
“What was your last job?” I asked him.
“Another factory, but I hurt my back so I can’t really go back there.”
“Well, if you told them about your back, the factory probably thought you weren’t a good risk.”
“I had to tell them why I haven’t worked in so long,” Craig protested. “I couldn’t just say there’s no reason I’ve been mostly out of work for a year.”
“Right, but did you tell them it’s all better now?”
Craig swallowed and then took a swig of beer. “Nah. I figured I’d be honest, so maybe they’d put me in an office instead of in the back. I can’t lift boxes and shit, you know?”
“But isn’t that the position your interview was for?” I countered.
He gave me a dirty look. “Yeah, but how else am I supposed to get a job? If I lie, and then can’t do the job, they’re going to fire me anyway.”
“Well, if you can’t do the job, why would you apply?”
“Oh, fuck off, man.” Craig rolled his eyes. “I need a fucking job. Not everyone is a goddamn billionaire.”
I sighed. Why did everyone think I was a billionaire? I mean, I did well, but not that well.
“I worked harder than most people ever work in their entire lives,” I said simply. “But when that heart attack took me out of hockey, I busted my ass all over again to get my sporting goods business off the ground. Don’t mistake my wealth for luck because I’ve worked my fucking ass off to be where I am.”
Craig rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. All you pro athletes have it easy. I’d kill to do what you do.”
“Well, you needed to start at around six years old and give up most of your teenage years. And even then, only about one percent of us make it to the NHL.”
Craig downed the rest of his beer and motioned to the waitress to bring another.
“So, are you coming on the twenty-fourth and sleeping over?” Connie asked Noelle.