Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(33)

Knox’s gaze was locked on my lips. His jaw was clenched.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“You’re apologizing for eating?”

No, I’d apologized for the moan. I had ears. I knew how it had sounded. The last thing we needed was more sexual tension.

“Don’t,” he ordered, shaking his head. “How was your day?”

“Good.” Up until daycare pickup, it had been fine. “There weren’t many rooms to clean today and the other housekeeper wanted to head home early so it was just me.”

“It’ll probably be quiet for a couple more weeks until Thanksgiving. I bet you could take a few days off if you wanted.”

“That’s okay.” I needed the hours. “I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Last week, you said I could stay. I’d like to until spring, if that’s okay.” The idea of moving in the winter was daunting.

Not that my apartment hunt had yielded any other possibilities.

“Like I said, stay as long as you need.”

Need, not want. I hadn’t realized it until just now, but he’d said need last week too. Not want. Need.

There was a difference. One that caused a stiffness to creep into my shoulders.

I set my sandwich down and sat a little taller. “Then I’d like to pay more rent.”

Knox chuckled.

“It’s not a joke.”

“I know it wasn’t a joke. But it’s unnecessary.”

“Your place is two hundred dollars cheaper a month than any other place I looked at.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “I thought you just looked at the one next to Willie’s.”

“I called a few more.”

Now it was his turn to put his sandwich down. “When?”

“Ever since I moved in. The loft was only supposed to be a temporary spot.”

“But you don’t need to move.”

There was that word again. Need. “Then let me pay more rent. Let me make it fair.”

“No. It’s fair already.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Knox scowled. “You wasting money is ridiculous. Save it.

Spend it on a Halloween costume or whatever.”

I flinched and stared at Drake. Three of the cotton balls I’d glued onto his hat were coming apart. Maybe that was why Jill had bought a costume. Because she’d had no faith that I could make one on my own.

Because she was better.

“Why won’t you let me pay more?” I asked, my voice weak.

“Because you don’t—”

“Need to?” I finished for him. The slime of shame crept across my skin, and a realization with it. Is that how this family saw me? As a charity case?

It would make sense. It made sense why Eloise had given me the best shifts. How she’d set me up with an apartment.

Why Knox made sure to keep me fed.

“Memphis, I don’t need the rent money.”

“It’s not about you needing the money.” I met his gaze and the pity in his eyes was crippling. “It’s about me being able to pay it.”

“But you don’t need to, honey.”

Honey. This was the second time he’d called me honey. I’d missed the undertone the first time, but at the moment, it felt like an endearment he’d give a child. Someone less.

Me. I was less.

“The sauce is delicious.” I pried the spoon from Drake’s fist, then slid out of the booth. “Excuse me.”

“Memphis.”

I didn’t stop moving as he stood too. But he didn’t follow as I hurried from the restaurant straight to the break room to collect Drake’s things. Then we were out the door, rushing through the storm to my car.

There were no tears as I drove through town to the highway, navigating that familiar path to Juniper Hill. I was

too stunned to cry. Whatever confidence I’d built here in Quincy melted, like the snowflakes that hit my windshield.

How had I not seen this? How could I be so blind? The Edens were a wealthy and well-known family. Wealthy and well-known families didn’t associate with people like me unless they were trying to save them. Save the poor people.

How many galas had I attended where that had been the unspoken cause?

I was the poor, helpless woman who’d come to Quincy with her belongings in the trunk of a car. I was the woman who couldn’t afford decent meals, so I got the leftovers. I was the girl who’d never cleaned a room before her first day as a housekeeper.

Eloise had given me compliment after compliment since I’d started working at the hotel. But she swept through every room after I was done. Every single one. She always had one or two pairs of white slippers in her hand, a complimentary gift for the guests. Except I could have added the slippers myself.

Had she fixed my mistakes? Had she sent in another housekeeper to clean what I’d missed?

My stomach was in knots by the time I parked in the garage at home. I took Drake inside and fed him a bottle before peeling off his silly costume. More cotton balls came loose and by the time I had him naked for his bath, it all sat in a sad heap on the floor.

I’d hoped to save that costume, to put it in a bin with his baby shoes and hospital bracelet. Instead, when Drake was dressed in his pajamas and in his bouncer, I balled it up and