The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2)(79)

“You got pride. Shit has been so copacetic with us lately, I forgot your independent streak. Which is not a bad thing for you to have, and it’s part of why I fell for you, just that I can’t forget it and gotta have a mind to it. So I should have told you I saw him and put in a word. Though, Addie, the minute you mentioned that job, I was already thinking of doing that. So I should have told you then.”

“It’s not on you I reacted like a bitch.”

“Yeah, it is, ’cause I know you. So maybe you shouldn’t have reacted that way, but you wouldn’t have if I’d told you what I was gonna do.”

“Still, Toby, I’ll get a lock on my independent streak when you’re trying to do something nice for me. Or at least talk things out before I say something bitchy.”

It took a minute before he muttered, “Obliged.”

I pulled in a deep breath and said carefully, “Um . . . the crib?”

“I want you in my bed and I don’t want us to have to fork Brooks off on someone else to have you there. I also like my place, so I like to spend time there, and when I do and I got Brooks, I want him to feel at home. But bottom line, he’s part of what we got, and he didn’t have space in my space. Now he does.”

While he spoke, I walked into the room and was standing at the crib, running a hand over the blanket when he was done.

“You were gonna show this to me when you got home, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“I ruined your surprise,” I whispered.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. This blanket is insanely cute, and I feel the need to share how much I like how cute it is and do that in person.”

“I’ll be home in an hour. You can blow me after I get out of the shower. And I’m takin’ you wherever you wanna go to eat to celebrate you getting that job before we hit Lora’s. Deal?”

I smiled at the crib. “Deal, Toby.”

“Love you, babe. See you soon.”

“Love you too, honey.”

We disconnected.

I traced a blue bear in the blanket with my finger.

You’re a Gamble.

“Those boys really do not fuck around,” I whispered.

Toby had bought a crib.

And sheets.

For my son.

To be in his house.

As much as I loved that—and make no mistake, I seriously loved that—a thought I hadn’t thought in a long time came crashing into my brain.

It was a thought I had to think.

And it was a situation I had to deal with.

I finished tracing the bear, went back down to get my bag, and took it upstairs to shower grocery store smock smell off me and put in the work to glamorize myself for Toby.



“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Shoot.”

I was sitting on the other side of the black granite countertop in Toby’s (mostly) all-wood bathroom while Tobe stood at the basin (one of two) that he used, slicking product into his crazy-awesome hair.

He was wearing nothing but black boxer briefs.

It was post-shower (for him and me, though I was already ready), post-blowjob (for him, which meant my carefully coiffed hair was now sex hair and I hadn’t gotten any . . . yet) and now he was getting down to business getting ready.

The mystique of Toby being all things Toby had been explained over the weeks we were together. He had one product for his hair and he trimmed his own beard.

It still managed to be a mystique.

I could get caught up in watching it unfold (easily), but I wanted to get the heavy out of the way so we could go on and have a great night.

“I read the offer. They explained it’s due to experience they’re offering me the low end of the salary range. And I’ve done the budgets. If I take it, it’ll cover all necessities. But it won’t leave much left over for things like food and clothes and stuff. I couldn’t start up Johnny’s payments again, and I’d probably have to ask Margot to do daycare full time, which, nothing against Margot, I’m not sure it would be good for Brooks. He needs to be around other kids. Learn to share. Shit like that.”

“Then don’t take it,” Toby said, running his comb under the water in the sink to rinse the texturizing clay from it.

“Well, during the interview, they said that one of their secretaries is going to be retiring next fall and they like to promote from within, so if I got the job, and I was interested, she could start training me right away. I looked up legal secretaries’ salaries. They make good cake. Like, serious good cake. And that sounds all kinds of interesting to me, learning about the law and working close to an attorney. And like you said, it’s in Matlock. I won’t have to work weekends. I won’t have to worry about leaning on anyone for wonky hours to watch Brooklyn. But I don’t think making cards is going to catch that kind of slack.”

He turned to me. “Babe—”

I lifted a hand. “Before you say it. I’m going after Perry for child support.”

He shut his mouth but opened it again right away to say, “I need jeans for this shit.”

I sucked in my lower lip and bit it.

He went into the master closet (which was the shit, all railings and drawers and slanted shelves so you could see your shoes, killer).