“Fuck, Apollo.” My voice was thick.
“I miss my kid with every beat of my heart.” Apollo looked away and quickly changed the subject. “Want to go over the construction plans?”
I sat down and went over construction plans with him.
Later, I left him sitting at the bar, and my heart ached as Apollo gave Holt a soft pat on the top of the head as we took off.
I was at the Mercedes dealership an hour later.
Two hours after that, I was walking away with a brand-new car, and my Cutlass was being delivered back to Baker’s place within the hour.
When I got back, Holt and I walked into the house and were unsurprised to find Baker exactly where we’d left her.
Though, now she wasn’t watching TV but sleeping.
She peeked one eye open when she heard us come in and said, “Tired.”
I grinned. “Too tired to come see your new car?”
“What color is it?” she asked.
My lips turned up at the corner. “Purple.”
She perked up at that. “Really?”
“It was the owner of the dealership’s special-order car. It’d just come in that day. Has all of three miles on it.” I pulled the keys out of my pocket and dangled them in the air above her.
She smiled when Holt, who was well and truly awake now and hyped up on applesauce from the dealership’s staff kitchen, made a grab for the keys.
He made such a mad attempt for them that I had to catch him by the hips to hold him in place.
Baker giggled and held up her hands, waiting.
I lowered him down slowly, holding on to his ankles.
He giggled, and it was music to my ears.
Baker’s guffaw of laughter when drool came out of Holt’s mouth and landed on her chin was also music to my ears.
“How do you feel about getting into your purple car and going to check out a builder’s office and going over some house designs?” I teased.
She sat up quite fast at that. “Really?”
“Yep,” I said. “They’re going to be doing the office, but he said he’d split the crews and he could get started on both. He moves family to the top of the list.”
The excitement in her eyes was contagious.
She hopped up, and I grinned at the clothes she had on.
My sweatshirt.
My sweatpants. And my socks.
“You got anything of your own on today?” I asked.
“Nope,” she admitted. “Panties don’t really count.”
I held Holt out to the side and pulled her into my arms.
