Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“ M r. Marx, you can’t?—”
Devlin turned on the lawyer, fury flooding him. “Excuse me? As much as we pay you? You make it happen.”
He’d been taken down to nothing, and he’d built himself back up. He was not going to let that smarmy con man get out of this life with a single penny to his name, and if Valerie Watson couldn’t get it done for him, he’d find another lawyer who could.
He hadn’t been able to create properly since he’d been taken for everything he had, the anger always right there beneath the surface, just waiting to come out, and he needed to put an end to it, to find some closure, which meant Grant needed his fucking comeuppance.
“We need more victims coming out. It will help our case,” she insisted.
“He’s had two more husbands that are both poor as church mice now!”
“Yes, that’s what the private detective has informed us of, but we need them to come forward and testify. The case just isn’t strong enough on its own.”
“Oh, for fuc—” He growled and stormed out of her office. He had to pick up Marly from dance class and Juniper from Judo, and this meeting was clearly not productive.
“Mr. Marx!” Valerie Watson called after him before he got to the main door.
Stopping, he turned back and glared. “What?”
“My assistant just gave me a telephone message. One of the other ex-husbands has called in regards to your case.”
“Oh? Which one? Two, or three?” Not that he really cared; what mattered was that one of them had come forward.
“Bryan St-Vincent. So, number two. He was married not that long after you.” She sighed. “He’s spending less and less time between fleecing one husband and finding the next. I am behind you that we need to get this guy, but there’s no use going after him if we don’t have enough ammunition and all of our ducks in a row. He can afford the most expensive lawyers.”
“Yeah, with my money. Worse, with my kids’ money!” He was going to lose his fucking shit.
She put a hand on his arm. “I know. And I know this is frustrating. Would you like me to arrange a meeting with Mr. St-Vincent for later today? Maybe we can all have a coffee together and see if he can help the case. How does that sound?”
“Uh—” He checked his schedule. He could afford a nanny, drivers, all sorts, but that wasn’t his style. He wanted to be a part of his girls’ lives, and at fourteen and ten, they needed a father who was present. “Can we meet at Violet Java?”
The coffee shop was at the base of his apartment building, and Marly and Juniper would be fine upstairs, or they could do their homework at a table next to them.
“Does 4:30 work?” she asked. When he nodded, she typed into her phone. Then she nodded. “4:30 at Violet Java it is. I’ll see you there.”
“I’m going to get my girls.” He didn’t slam the door on his way out, though it was a close thing. Taking a few breaths, he focused on where he was going. It was an easy walk—one door down for dance, one block over for Judo, then home. One of the best parts of living near downtown was that he was close to everything from grocery shopping to lawyers and from the art supply store to the dance studio.
He grabbed Marly first, her long red hair trapped in a heavy bun. Looking at her was like looking at his baby sister—she was a Marx to the bone. “How was ballet?”
“It was hard today. Madame says I need to practice more. She says I need to do it every day.” She handed him her backpack and put on her sweater before taking the bag back and swinging it over her shoulder.
“Well, you keep your grades up, and we’ll discuss it. Fair?” He didn’t have a problem with it, but he knew she wasn’t going to give up her piano lessons and he didn’t believe in filling every single second of his girls’ lives with activities. They needed time to just be kids too.
“I don’t know if I want to keep doing it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be good enough,” she admitted as they made their way down the street to pick up Juniper.
“Good enough for what? You’re fourteen. Does it make you happy? Dancing, I mean?”
“Yeah, but Madame says I’m never going to be a prima ballerina and I’m never going to get any of the main parts in the shows Madame puts on.” She shrugged, and he thought the move was designed to look more casual than she felt. “Madame doesn’t think I have the drive.”
“Screw her. Do you want to dance? You can try another teacher? You can try another style? You can do anything you want.” He wasn’t letting some hoity-toity ballet teacher give Marly a complex or make her think she was less than. If she wanted to keep dancing, there were options and lots of them.
She looked up at him, her shoulders straightening a little. “Yeah? I… can I think about it?”
“Of course. You can think for as long as you need to.” He winked at her, bumped shoulders.
She grinned up at him, the happiness making it up to her eyes now. “Thanks, Da.”
They got to the dojo, Juniper already waiting for them in the front desk area, looking smart and tough in her gi.
“Da! I’m ready for you!”
“So you are!” He bent down and opened his arms, well-versed in what was about to happen. Sure enough, she launched herself at him, and he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. Her little face all lit up.
She was small and solid, so unlike her willowy sister.
“How was class?” Like he had to ask—the happiness rolled off her.
“Amazing. I kicked Harry in the butt.”
“And that’s a good thing?” he asked, managing to keep his laughter from spilling out as he set her back down on her feet. He could just picture it. His tough little girl kicking the much bigger Harry in the ass and sending him sprawling.
“Da! Yeah!” Her eyes danced with it. “It’s amazeballs!”
“So lame.” Marley rolled her eyes as she teased.
“Not lame!” Juniper shouted. “Da! Marley said Judo was lame!”
“I heard. I heard you both.” Jeez, Juniper always came out of Judo absolutely psyched. He wasn’t sure she’d be able to sit quietly and work on her homework at the coffee shop. So that made his decision simple, though he’d still give them the option.
“I have a meeting at the coffee shop in a few minutes. Would you like to stay upstairs or come down with me? You’ll have to sit and be quiet…” He knew that would have them making the right decision.
The girls looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them, then Marley asked, “Can we watch TV when we’re finished homework if we stay upstairs?”
“Yes. Nothing scary, though. At all.” They were bad about daring each other… and he didn’t want to spend the next few nights with little girls sleeping in his bed.
Marley and Juniper shared a last look, then nodded together. “Okay. Upstairs, please,” Marley told him as they went in and headed for the elevator, passing by the guard at the front desk. Devlin gave him a nod.
“Sure. Did you want me to bring you up a treat for dessert? I’ve ordered soup from the deli—chicken soup and matza balls, but I didn’t get anything for dessert.” He wasn’t much of a cook so most of their meals were takeout, or leftover takeout. He loved his microwave and the girls were both old enough now to heat up their own food if they got hungry.
“Ice cream!” Juniper called out, jumping into the elevator as the doors popped open.
Dev took out his keys and popped the elevator one in the slot before pressing their floor.
“They don’t have ice cream at the coffee shop,” Marley informed her sister. “Besides, it would melt. I want a cinnamon roll.”
“Oh, me too!” Juniper bounced a few more times, clearly not upset about the fact she couldn’t have ice cream.
“Okay. I’ll get a half dozen, so we can have some for breakfast tomorrow, okay?” Go him, planning ahead so they wouldn’t need to scrounge around for their morning meal.
They both cheered and the elevator dinged, the doors opening on their floor. They tumbled out like the hooligans they were, running over to the door to their place and singing a song about cinnamon buns as they waited for him to let them in.
He loved Marley like this. She was such a teenager around her friends. Alone with her little sister, she could still be a girl.
He reminded them they needed to do their homework while he was gone before they ran into their rooms to change out of their dance and judo outfits.
“We will, Da,” Marley called back to him.
“There’s juice in the fridge if you’re thirsty. I’ll be right downstairs. Do not open the door, do you understand?”
“Yes, Da!” Marley could make two words say so much, like of course we won’t open the door, we’re not stupid.
Smiling and shaking his head, he made sure to lock up behind himself, then made his way down to Violet Java. His lawyer was there already, but she was on her own. The other ex wasn’t there yet.
“Hey. I’m going to get some water.” Coffee would just hype him up, and he knew he was going to get growly enough from the upcoming conversation. Talking about Grant made him want to kick things.
While he was waiting to pay for his drink, a hottie came in, the guy tall and well-built with dark hair curling over his ears. He looked around the place, glance skimming over all the tables.
The barista handed him the water bottle and he went and sat next to Valerie at the table she’d chosen near the windows.
“I think this is the one, Mr. Marx,” she noted.
“Figures. Grant likes them pretty.” He nodded, though, the guy was clearly looking for them.
She raised her hand to get the man’s attention, and he looked over and nodded, heading their way.
“Ms. Watson?” At her nod, he held out his hand and continued, “Bryan St-Vincent.”
She shook it, then nodded toward him. “Please, take a seat. And this is Devlin Marx.”
Bryan thrust out his hand. “I’m so sorry he did this to you too.”
“Yeah. I was the first idiot. Congratulations on being the second.” He winked to keep the meanness from it.
“So I heard. Until today, I thought I was the first and you came second. I didn’t realize he’d already done it to someone else before he got to me.” Bryan shook his head. “How many of us are there?”
“Married to three, engaged to one more,” Valerie answered, the words clipped.
Bryan shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”
“Not quite, but he sure thinks so…” Dev had to grin.
Looking startled for a moment, Bryan blinked a couple times. Then he chuckled. “Yeah, you got that right. So. You’re suing him—good for you. I hope you win and it breaks him. What can I do help?”
“We need more victims to testify as to what he did to them,” Valerie told Bryan. It wasn’t difficult at all. Just tell the truth.
“I hate that word—victim—but I know it’s pretty damned accurate. And two’s not enough? Hell, one isn’t enough? How much proof do you need?” Bryan sat back, chewing on his lower lip. “This whole thing is fucked up.”
“It is, and I want him to pay. I have two daughters. He stole part of their future.”
Bryan nodded. “Two boys. My late husband’s insurance should have seen us set, instead we had over a year of genuine hardship. And I don’t know if we’ll ever be back to where we were.”
Motherfucker. Dev kept hating Grant more and more every day. “I hate that bastard. Let’s get it back. Let’s make him pay.”
“You know you might not get the money back…” Valerie warned. Lawyers.
“I might not.” And he could live with that. He’d built himself back up so that money wasn’t a worry. “But he’ll be bankrupt and embarrassed.” And that was something at least.
Bryan shook his head. “I don’t think the man has any shame in him. I mean, I was a widower mourning the loss of my husband for fuck’s sake. And he took that and used it to steal every last penny.”
“Then we’ll continue to plaster his name all over the earth to protect everyone else,” Dev suggested. He didn’t want Grant to be able to even show his face in public, let alone steal anyone else’s money.
“Whatever I can do to help make that happen, I’m ready to do.” The guy turned to him, eyes so blue staring into his own. “It’s not even the money—I mean, yes, that’s a part of it, but the worst of it is how it made me feel. Taken advantage of, like an all sorts of a fool.”
“I understand completely.” But he was pissed as fuck, and he intended to kick the son of a bitch’s ass.
“I’d like you to come into the office and give me an official statement,” Valerie told Bryan.
The man nodded slowly and grabbed his phone, bringing up a calendar. “I can do that.”
“Excellent. You busy tomorrow?”
Dev was glad she was on the ball with this, eager to get it done quickly. This whole ordeal seemed like it was dragging on forever and he wanted it done.
“I could come in sometime around ten, or eleven.”
“Let’s go with eleven, then.” She had her own phone open, and she made a notation before handing Bryan a card. “That’s the address. I’ll see you there.”
Bryan pocketed the card. “Thanks.”
She shook Bryan’s hand, then turned to Dev. “And I’ll call you as soon as I have any more news or movement on the case.” The case that was moving at a fucking glacial pace. He was not holding his breath.
“Thanks.” Now take your three-hundred-dollar suit and go. Argh .
At least he didn’t say the last bit out loud.
Bryan stood politely when she got up. She nodded and headed out, and then it was just him and ex-hubby number two.
“I wanted to say thank you for doing this,” Bryan told him once she was gone. “I went to a lawyer to see if I had any recourses when it first happened, but they were not hopeful and there was no way I could afford their fees at the time. I was lucky just to keep us all fed, clothed, and housed, but it’s always bothered me, that he got off scot-free, no accountability for what he did to my boys. So I’m grateful that you are pursuing it and sticking with it.”
“Please, have a seat. Would you like a pastry? I promised the girls I’d get them cinnamon rolls.” And Dev wanted to get this guy’s story.
Bryan sat back down and nodded. “I might have to try these cinnamon rolls you mentioned. If they’re good, I might have to bring a couple home to my boys. Thank you.”
“I’ll order a dozen. They’re huge. Coffee? Tea?”
Bryan looked at his watch. “Better make it a tea, please.”
“Green? Earl Grey?” He could have a cup of tea. It was more appealing than his bottle of water.
“Oh, Earl Grey would be great, thanks again.” Bryan’s smile lit his face up, making him even better looking, and he was already pretty studly.
Dev ordered the teas and the rolls, tipping well enough that Stacey would deliver them to the table, then he went to sit. “All ordered. Where are your little ones?”
“Micah and Dylan are at the community center doing an art class. If I’m not back before it’s over, Jennie will look after them. She’s the volunteer coordinator there, a total godsend. What about your—girls you said—where are they?”
“I live upstairs. They’re fourteen and ten, so they can be trusted alone long enough for me to have a cup of tea.” He winked. “Don’t get me wrong, Marley will have been on the phone with her girlfriends, and Juniper’s reading won’t be done, but…”
“How old were they when…” Bryan trailed off, and he made a face. “You don’t have to answer that.”
He got it, though. “Juniper was six-weeks-old when Mike died. I married the Fuck Monkey when she was two, so two and six.”
Bryan’s expression softened, sympathy and understanding right there, and he reached for Devlin’s hand, squeezed it. “Six weeks? Damn that must have been devastating.”
“If I hadn’t had his parents and Marley? I would have died.” The heart attack had been early, unexpected, and immediately fatal. At least Mike hadn’t suffered.
“I’m so sorry.” Bryan sounded sincere, and like maybe he knew where Devlin was coming from. His hand was given another, longer squeeze. “And then this seemingly understanding, wonderful man came in and made you feel again, made you feel like you weren’t so alone, and then turned around and took every penny you had. I could cheerfully kill him.”
“Yes. Yes, exactly. I want him to hurt as bad as he hurt Marley.”
Bryan nodded, head bobbing. “Yes! Bad enough he took us for fools, but the kids… they didn’t deserve that. Only a true monster hurts kids.”
“He’s a narcissistic, self-absorbed prick.” Monster was too good for him and an insult to monsters.
Bryan nodded. “You got that right. It bears repeating, too. I never considered myself a violent person, but I would cheerfully change that for him.”
The teas and goodies came, and he raised his glass. “To vengeance.”
Bryan copied his motion. “Yes. To vengeance. And to living our best lives in spite of his efforts.”
“You know it—” His phone rang, and he grabbed it. Marley. “Hey, baby gir?—”
“Da! Da, there’s someone knocking on the door. They say they’re from the TV.”
“Don’t answer it. Keep it locked.” Dev grabbed his tea and stood. “Want to come upstairs or leave? The media is here, and they’re scaring my girls.”
“I’ll come up with you. You might need the backup. Those guys can be vultures.” Bryan grabbed his own tea and the box of cinnamon buns. “Lead the way.”
“Sixth floor.” He started to growl before he even had his key out for the elevator.
Bryan followed him, staying close. “Is this related to the case?”
He glared at the front desk as he passed it, but the guard wasn’t there at the moment, which only made him want to growl all the more. “I’m sure. Reporters don’t really care about the art world.” He put his key in the slot and hit the button for the sixth floor.
“Someone must have let them in—you needed a key for the elevator,” Bryan pointed out. “And you said they don’t care about art, does that mean you’re an artist?”
“Yeah. I’m a painter. I tend to do multimedia type stuff.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’d love to see your stuff when your apartment isn’t being held siege by TV people.” The elevator dinged, and Bryan followed him out into the hallway.
“I’d be happy to. There’s going to be cursing, fair warning.” Dev winked, then surged down the hall. “What the fuck are you doing on my floor? My daughter has called the police! This is a private residence!”
He could scream. He’d had plenty of practice in the last eight years.
“We’re just looking for a comment on a story we’re doing,” the reporter began, her cameraman swinging his camera around to focus on Dev.
“We don’t give you permission to film us,” Bryan told them. “And you’ve been told to leave.”
The reporter got all huffy. “We’re the news; we can film who we want.”
“We do not give you permission,” Bryan repeated.
“This is a private residence. The police are on their way!” Dev knew Marley would know what to do.
“Come on, Dana, let’s go before the cops show up.”
“He’s bluffing!”
“Dana,” the guy growled.
“He’s not bluffing!” That was Marley, inside. “Don’t you be mean to my daddy. Please hurry! Help!”
Bryan got himself between the reporters and Dev. “Go to your daughters. I’ll make sure they leave.” Then he handed the box of cinnamon rolls over and spread his arms wide, started advancing on the reporter and her cameraman, herding them toward the elevator.
Dev unlocked the door and slipped inside, manhandling the box of cinnamon rolls. “I’m fine. It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“Da!” Juniper was losing her shit.
Marley looked like she was about to cry, holding on by sheer will alone. His baby girl was so strong; he just wished she didn’t have to keep proving it.
“Take my tea. I have a friend out there. Juni, get the cinnamon rolls for me? Stop crying. You’re fine. I’m going to complain to the super. We pay for security.” The reporter should never have been able to reach their floor.
A gentle knock sounded at the door and Bryan called out, “It’s Bryan. I got them on the elevator—made sure to press the button to the lobby before the doors closed. So it’s just me.”
Dev went to open the door. “Come on in. Thank you. Girls, this is Bryan. He’s a friend of mine.”
Marley blinked, and Juniper blurted out with, “A kissing friend?”
Bryan gave it a valiant try, Dev could see him trying hard not to laugh, but a snicker made its way out, the pretty lips twisting into a smile. Bryan followed up the sound with a “not yet.”
“See? Just friends. Come on in and have a seat.” He got a hug from Juniper, then a surprise one from Marley. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Bryan went and sat on the end of one of the big couches, his tea in hand. “So did you guys get all your homework done?” he asked the girls.
Marley shook her head, but Juni nodded, so eager. “I did!”
“Good for you!” Bryan lifted his hand for a high-five, and she gave it to him, bumping her little hand up against his. “What did you have to do?” Bryan was clearly comfortable with kids.
“I had fractions, and I had to do social studies.” She tilted her head. “Are you a teacher?”
“No, I’m not, but I do read during story hour at the community center a few days a week.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I don’t like reading a lot…”
“No? There are some amazing books out there. Such a huge variety. What don’t you like about reading?” Bryan asked before taking a sip of his tea.
Marley tugged Dev’s hand. “Where’d you meet him?”
“Through a lawyer. He was married to the evil one.”
Marley made a face. “Poor man.”
“Yes. He has kids too. Little ones.”
“That bites.”
It did. He knew exactly how much it did.
“So what have you got for homework?” Bryan asked Marley, turning his attention to Dev’s older daughter.
“I have a book report.” Marley frowned at him. “You’re sure you’re not a teacher?”
Bryan chuckled. “I’m very sure I’m not a teacher. But I do have two boys. They’re a lot younger than you guys, though. Is asking about homework a teacher thing?”
“I guess. I mean, a little.”
Juniper rolled her eyes. “Teachers give homework!”
“Okay. No more homework questions,” Bryan said solemnly.
“You have little boys? How old are they?” Juniper asked.
“Micah is four and Dylan is six. Dylan sometimes has homework,” Bryan told her with a wink.
Marley’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they’re little. I have my babysitting certification. I mean, if you ever need someone!”
“Oh, now, I could maybe use a babysitter. I don’t have one at the moment. You’ll have to meet my boys and see if you like them.”
“Oh, I will. I’m good with kids. I got an A in my class.”
“And you’re sure you’d be good with hanging out with two young boys?” Bryan asked.
“I would. I have my CPR, my first aid.”
“You’re so grown up,” Bryan told her. “I believe that my boys would be safe with you.” Bryan glanced over to him, met his gaze.
He smiled, nodded once. His girl was a sweetheart. “Decide what you want for supper, girls, and I’m going to sit with Bryan and chat.”
“You said we were having soup and matzo balls,” Juniper told him. It was one of her favorite meals.
“So I did. Well then, I guess you can go watch some TV.”
“Yes, Da!” Juniper bounded off, Marley moving more sedately, clearly too ‘grown-up’ to be rambunctious.
Bryan took another sip of his tea and shifted slightly, although there was plenty of room for him on the couch. “They seem like great girls. I’m glad you know who didn’t turn them evil.”
“Juniper doesn’t remember him. Marley went to therapy.” So had he. For years.
“I’m glad she doesn’t. Micah remembers a little bit—it’s more in the occasional nightmare than anything day-to-day. He goes to therapy too, though, because his big brother does. I mean, they go separately, but because Dylan goes, Micah wants to go too, and now that I can afford it, I figure there’s going to be something he needs to talk to a neutral party about, right? And it’s not like he has another parental figure he can talk to…”
“It’s tough to be a single dad. What happened to their first parent?” Real parent?
“Miller was in a car accident. It was pretty bad, actually. On the highway and a few dozen cars were involved when all was said and done and seven people died. The only saving grace was that he didn’t have the kids with him or they might have been gone, too.” Bryan shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts from going in that direction.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry. That sucks so hard.”
“Yeah, it does. You know that too, though, eh? Your man…” Bryan let the words trail off, the question clear.
“Heart attack.” It had been fast, brutal, and the hardest thing he’d ever done.
“That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
Yeah, they both knew how much losing your husband sucked. Unfortunately, they also both knew how much getting conned and fleeced by one felt too.
“Yes, it’s been a while. I’m on my feet now.”
“Yeah, you’ve been recovering a little longer than I have. The first year after Gr— him, there were days I wasn’t sure where our next meal was coming from. This last year has been better.”
“Well, I was incredibly lucky that some of my husband’s money was tied up in the girls, and Mike’s parents are loaded and have been absolutely amazing, so… if you need help, please let me know.”
“That’s very generous of you, but we’re in a good place now, thank you. It’s just a lot harder than it was supposed to be. Miller and I both made sure that if one of us died the other would be set for life.” Bryan shook his head and barked out an unamused laugh. “All roads seem to lead back to you know who.”
“He’s an evil bastard, and I want to get him. I want to hurt him.”
Bryan nodded and took a long swallow of his tea. “Like I said earlier, I’ve never considered myself a violent person, but I’d cheerfully change that for him. My therapist said I should forgive him.” Bryan snorted. “I told him that wasn’t going to happen, even if hell froze over.”
“Fuck that,” he bit out. “Fuck forgiving him. He’s a habitual offender.”
“He sure is. You think we should find the guy he’s currently engaged to and warn him?” Bryan asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, the court case is public record. Maybe we should take an advertisement out. A billboard…”
“Those things are pretty fucking expensive, aren’t they? I mean, I otherwise endorse the idea. I don’t have a single picture that could be used for one, though. I destroyed any I had that he was in.”
“Good for you.” He actually found a smile for Bryan. “I feel like an idiot, for trusting him.”
“Yes.” Bryan nodded vigorously. “Like the world’s biggest fool. How could I be taken in by him? How could I let this con man and thief into my life and worse, my kids’ lives? I used to beat myself up daily over it. With the therapist’s help, it’s closer to weekly now.”
“It’ll ease.” In theory. His never had. Maybe it never would.
“I hope so. You’ve obviously been at it longer than I have.” Bryan sighed and relaxed back against the couch, and it looked like it took effort. He took a sip of his tea. “Let’s move onto a more interesting subject. Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m an artist, I love to travel and see new things. My girls are into dance and piano, robotics and Judo. I love music when I’m working…” And he was basically celibate. Go him.
“Do you get to do a lot of travel with the girls?” Bryan asked.
“I didn’t when they were young—it felt too difficult, but we’re starting to do more now that I can watch them both.”
“That’s pretty cool. At the moment, the boys consider any place with fair food or food from another country as traveling. I have visions of them being a little more grown, and we go to Paris and I go look at the Eiffel Tower! and they say ‘in a minute, dad, we’re busy with the baguette and cheese’.” Bryan laughed softly, clearly not terribly upset by the prospect of his boys getting to know other countries by their food.
“I do love a baguette and good butter.” He winked over.
He’d bet the girls would love to go to Paris with him.
Bryan laughed, and the sound was awesome, deep and happy. He was a good-looking man, but smiling, laughing, he was even more handsome.
“Yeah, me too,” Bryan admitted. “The boys, now while they do like their bread and butter, are fiends for going to Mexico. AKA, going to Lucia’s Cantina and having tacos.” He chuckled again. “Last night, Micah tried to convince me to let him have a s’mores taco and, barring that, a gummi worms one.”
“Oh, I like that. I have one that only eats chicken and broccoli and one that only wants hamburgers.”
“Oh man, really? How do you work that out? ’Cause they’re like diametrically opposed. And really? A kid who only wants chicken and broccoli?”
“She’s fourteen, a dancer, and obsessed with her body image. She’s worried about having boobs and hips.”
“Doesn’t that come with the territory?” Bryan asked. “I’m so glad I have boys. I wouldn’t know what to think if I had girls.”
“I ended up with two, and it’s been wild and wonderful. I’ve survived one first period, one first leg shaving, and learning how to braid hair for class.”
“That’s impressive!” Bryan didn’t look like he was making fun of him. “And my youngest wanted nothing but hot dogs for a year and a half. Which I was grateful for as that was our first year and a half after you know who left us high and dry. Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him back up.”
“It’s okay. Seriously. Look, we’re going to order out for supper, would you like to stay? And if not, would you like to come over tomorrow evening with your boys? It’s a Friday…”
Bryan glanced at his watch. “Actually, I have to go pick them up soon, so tomorrow would work way better. Thanks so much for the offer. The boys will love to see people who live in an apartment.”
“Do you have a house in town, then?” He’d never thought about getting one, not really.
“It’s a duplex. We live on the ground floor and the owners live above us. I think they took pity on us because I got an amazing rent.”
“Oh, that’s good. I love to hear that.” He wasn’t going to mention that he owned this floor. All six bedrooms of it. Not to mention the studio space upstairs and the rooftop garden. He’d recovered from Grant stealing everything he could get his hands on, built everything back. But then he’d had longer than Bryan had so far.
“They’re awesome. Portuguese. I think they’ve all but adopted us. Mrs. Rosa brings us down supper at least once a week.”
“Oh, that’s amazing.” He’d had a housekeeper, but she’d retired recently, so he was hunting another. Someone who could cook so he could feed the girls a homemade meal now and then.
“Yeah, there’s been enough angels in our lives that I’m not entirely soured by the whole thing. I should head off, though, collect my boys. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bryan thrust out a hand.
“Of course. Oh! Wait, can I share my details? So we can text?”
“Good idea.” Bryan took out his phone and passed it over, watched as he put in his number, the address, and his and the girls’ names.
Then Bryan texted him with, “Hey, it’s Bry.”
He chuckled and texted back. “Hi, Bry. It’s Dev.”
Bryan grinned at him and reached out, shook his hand. “I’m glad to have met you, Dev. The circumstances kind of suck, but it’s how we go from here that counts, right?”
“That’s it. We’ll see you tomorrow. We can order when you get here.”
“Sounds good. Say five?”
“We’ll be here. I’ll have your name at security.” Which was how it was supposed to work. Strangers couldn’t just go wherever the fuck they wanted. Of course, the reporter may have talked whoever was on duty to let them up. He was going to have to report the issue and make sure it didn’t happen again.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.” Bryan headed out, and Dev closed the door behind a very cute ass.
“He was nice, huh?” Marley said.
“He seems to be, yeah.”
“Too many homework questions,” Juni informed him, crossing her arms. “Are we having supper soon?”
“Yep. I told them to deliver it for six so it shouldn’t be long now.” One day, he’d hire another person to cook.
Until then, he’d continue to order.