Chapter 20
Twenty
REESE
“You want me to what?” I’m scrubbing my spit-up covered shirt in Malaki’s kitchen sink while Zoe gives Charleigh a snack. I only let her stick around because I know she’ll just eavesdrop if I don’t.
Malaki repeats what he just told me. “I want you to work for me.”
“I don’t understand.” My bicep burns from how aggressive I’m scrubbing. “Work for you? Doing what?”
Malaki, still bare-chested, leans against the counter beside me.
I stare at the no-longer-there stain on my shirt so I don’t accidentally stare at his flickering stomach muscles.
I still feel the roughness of his five-o-clock shadow against my face when he whispered into my ear no more than ten minutes ago, and it takes everything in me not to graze my hand over my cheek.
Having him close puts me on edge, yet I find myself looking forward to it. My body sends all sorts of mixed signals to the parts of my body that are very much out of service, and I pray he doesn’t notice.
Malaki drags a hand up his chest and winds it around his neck to give it a squeeze. “I’ll pay you to cook…”
Zoe snorts, and I glare at her. I may not be the best in the kitchen, but it beats mac and cheese from the box.
“And clean,” Malaki adds.
I pause my scrubbing, my hands covered in sudsy water. “So what you’re saying is that you're going to pay me to be a housewife?”
“House-fiancée,” he corrects.
My lips flatten.
He grins. “Oh, come on. It’s that, or I just pay you for simply existing.”
An argument is on the tip of my tongue, but Zoe interrupts me mid-thought. “Can you pay me for existing too?”
“Zoe!” I snap.
She shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
Malaki laughs, and I roll my eyes. He pops up from resting against the counter and nudges me out of the way with his hip. “You start tomorrow. Oh, and lasagna is my favorite food.”
He grabs my shirt covered in soap and rinses it under the cool water before grabbing Charleigh’s onesie that’s in a damp ball off to the side. My lips part. I glance at Zoe, and she looks just as surprised as I do.
For the first time in her life, Zoe is speechless.
I laugh, and it breaks her out of her stupor.
“I’m sorry, what the hell are you doing?” she asks.
Malaki’s jaw catches the light just right as he looks over his shoulder at her, the defined curve sharper than ever. “Helping?” he says questionably.
He goes back to the project in front of him.
“My mom grew tired of me coming home with grass stains on every pair of jeans that I wore when I was younger, so she taught me how to get the stains out myself.”
I try to picture Malaki as a young boy.
What was he like? What was his mom like before she passed?
I suddenly want to know everything there is to know about Malaki Young. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be so surprised that he does things like this.
“Oh.” Zoe huffs with sarcasm. “That explains it, then...” She glances at me with a roll of her eyes. “We didn’t have a mom growing up, so no stain lessons for us. She didn’t teach us how to make lasagna either.”
Malaki’s hands freeze mid-rinse, but only for a second.
Zoe’s sarcasm keeps coming, her grudge over how we grew up flying out of her mouth without boundaries.
“So your mom taught you how to get stains out, and your dad taught you how to be a gentleman? Donuts and offering up your car so I don’t have to ride the bus? Our dad taught us how to evade the poli–”
“Zoe!” Her name squeezes out between my clenched teeth.
She stops talking immediately, her eyes widening as if she forgot that it wasn’t just her and me in the room.
She mouths the word sorry to me, and I look away.
“No…” Malaki drags the word out. “I didn’t have a dad growing up,” he admits.
“My mom taught me how to get stains out of pants and how to be a gentleman. I also know how to sew, and I’m not ashamed to admit that.
” He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder with a half-smile. “Probably not as good as you, though.”
Surprise flickers throughout like a camera shuttering to take a photo.
He was raised by a single mom?
Is that why he was so willing to stay in this fake engagement with me?
Zoe places Charleigh on the ground and leaves the kitchen to head to her room. She hates showing her emotions, but I know her like the back of my hand. She’s embarrassed she just blew up like that about our parents.
I walk over and scoop Charleigh into my arms. She grabs the end of my braid and plays with the hair tie with a look of concentration.
Malaki spins around after wiping his hands on a nearby towel and stares at me.
I move Charleigh to my other hip and nervously blurt, “Is that why you’re doing this? Because you know what it’s like to be raised by a single mother?” I pause. “Is it because you feel sorry for me?”
There is a sliver of hurt that comes with the thought, but I have no idea why.
It doesn’t matter why he’s doing it, because at the end of the day, he’s providing me with a safety I likely couldn’t get anywhere else.
Malaki’s forehead furrows as he studies me. His head tilts to the side, his hands gripping the back of the counter tightly. “What makes you think I feel sorry for you?”
I scoff, but it sounds more like a pitiful laugh.
“I think you’ve been around me enough to know that I’m a mess, Malaki.
My house is”—I shake my head—“was a shithole. I have basically nothing to my name, and I’m hardly making ends meet.
The only true romantic relationship I’ve had is with a man who no longer wanted me after I got pregnant, yet now he refuses to let me go.
I mean…just look at me!” I stare down at his shirt draped over my body.
“You walk into your house, and I’m literally standing in the kitchen without a shirt, my hair a disaster, with a naked baby on my hip…
not to mention, my ex on the phone, threatening me unless I video-chat with him. ”
I’m out of breath by the time I finish my rant. I’m so embarrassed I shut my eyes so I don’t have to see his pity, but then I feel Charleigh being taken out of my arms.
My first thought is that my sister was eavesdropping, and she’s taking Charleigh because I just had a mental breakdown, but instead of Zoe holding her, it’s Malaki.
She stares up at him with her wide eyes, full of curiosity.
“Do you think Mommy is a mess?” he asks her.
Charleigh smiles widely and snorts with a giggle.
“I totally agree with you,” Malaki says matter-of-factly. “She is the prettiest mess we’ve ever seen, huh?”
Charleigh kicks her legs excitedly, and I try my hardest not to smile when Malaki leans closer to her, pretending she’s telling him secrets.
He leans back and dramatically gasps. “You spit up on her on purpose? Just so she’d have to put my shirt on?”
I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my laugh.
“Then I guess I should thank you, huh?” he says to her.
He glances up at me with one lip lifted in a smile before turning back toward her.
“Why thank you, Charleigh-girl. I do, in fact, like seeing your mama in my shirt.”
My stomach flips. He does?
Charleigh takes her hands and touches Malaki’s face, rubbing her little palms against his scruffy jaw. He playfully pretends to bite her fingers, and I freeze. I step forward, thinking she’s going to cry, but instead, she laughs so hard her cheeks turn pink.
I blink through my confusion.
“She likes you,” I say quietly, in complete awe.
“Of course she does,” he says with a wink.
I won’t admit it aloud, but I think I like him too.