If he thinks his newfound heart of gold will impress me, it’s not working. I don’t know why he’s decided to try to make things up to me, but I refuse to give him credit.
It’s because I know he always has an ulterior motive.
Art has never done something out of the kindness of his heart. It’s probably why he was so opposed to the idea of being a father.
But I have to admit, when I finally turn over my phone and look at the screen, I do let out a squeal of joy that has Ava running over and looking around, as though a present or a bar of candy will have magically appeared in our kitchen.
“What is it, Mommy?”
She’s picked up on my excitement and she’s practically bouncing with energy.
I pull her onto my lap and squeeze her tight.
“You’re gonna have a new place to go when Mommy is at work during the day,” I tell her. “With new friends and play equipment. And we’ll be able to see each other at lunchtime on some days.”
That might be a pipe dream, given how busy the ward has been lately.
But the time that this will cut off my commute alone, not having to drop Ava at preschool, is going to make my life so much easier.
Middlefield is getting a childcare facility, which is free for staff. Out of everything they’ve offered: the massage vouchers, the dental coverage, this is the one that has me nearly in tears.
Lily calls, and I answer with another squeal.
“I know,” I tell her. “I actually checked my phone this time. Childcare!”
“What is this new management doing? It’s like they’re trying to make someone’s dreams come true. Like seriously, we’ve had a union here for years and they never achieved any of this, no matter who the owner was. They must be bleeding money.”
I pause. I have to tell her. This is getting too insane not to share with my best friend.
“What?”
“About the new owner…” I begin.
“Do you have gossip you’ve been holding from me?” Lily asks accusingly.
I stare down at my nails.
“Just a teeny little bit.”
10
ARTYOM
“What the fuck?” Nina murmurs when she tries to start her car and sees the warning light.
She wrinkles her nose in frustration and tries to start the car again. The engine grinds and splutters to a halt again.
That’s my cue, but I don’t want to be too obvious about it. I wait until she tries for a third and fourth time, not knowing that the spark plugs have been removed.
That ignition is not going to start, no matter how many times she tries.
Then I walk across the parking garage and rap my knuckles against the window.
“Car trouble?”
Her soft brown eyes narrow instantly. “Not you.”
I look around the deserted parking garage. It’s past midnight.
