“Why?”
Smoke relaxed against his seat, moving his cup to the table next to him. “I make no judgments. God knows, I got no right to criticize how anyone lives their life.” He licked his lips. It seemed like he had to think about what he could say without insulting me. “You’re a good mother and a sweet, caring woman. But you show up wearing a dingy uniform, shoes with the soles frayed and thin, driving the oldest fucking Monte Carlo I’ve ever seen in the world, a car that’s so cold you had to wrap your baby up in two quilts to keep him warm.”
“Yes?” I said, turning my head to the side, challenging him with a glare. “What of it?”
“Your will is great, but your resources are shit. From where I’m sitting, there is no ‘too much’ for you because you have nothing. You’ll continue to have nothing if you don’t swallow your pride and let someone help you.”
“I don’t need anything from…”
“Maybe not,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “But your kid does, doesn’t he?” Smoke watched me.
I curled Mateo closer, cradling him as he nursed and clung to the shirt I was wearing.
The man nodded, motioning to my son, his gaze shooting over to his cup when he grabbed it. “He’s a sweet kid. He’ll make you proud. I’m guessing that didn’t come from the man who made him.”
“No,” I said, my face going warm when I had a flash of Alejandro standing in the middle of our apartment, his hands shaking as he tore through the contents of my purse, trying to find where I’d put the last of the cash we had left.
I knew then, that was it. I’d told him about the pregnancy test that morning, and he hadn’t even reacted.
“No,” I said again. “This baby is mine. He’s all mine.”
“So, the father is…”
“Not going to be in his life.”
Smoke nodded but didn’t look away. The same knowing, measure-you-up look returned to his features, and I understood he wanted more information. He’d been good to us. I owed him my gratitude, maybe a little trust, but not everything.
“I’d rather my baby be the son of a poor woman than one of a drug addict.”
“How about the kid whose mom makes enough at her new gig that he doesn’t have to be either?”
Smoke met my gaze, his mouth relaxed before it moved into a smile.
But I was hesitant.
I didn’t need charity.
I didn’t do handouts.
“I can literally hear the ‘no’ working its way up your throat. Before you turn me down and start in with all the bullshit excuses, let me remind you, this town is closer to your aunt than whatever shithole place you’re from. My folks own a building two blocks over with income-based rent and affordable day care, but you won’t need it for long.” He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “My parents like to hire servers with goals. They like to see people advance. You want to work for them, you gotta have a game plan. You don’t have one yet, but they can help you figure that out.”
“I…I have a degree. I just… No one wanted to hire a pregnant dance major who hadn’t been in a company in three years because her asshole boyfriend convinced her being a ballerina wasn’t a viable career option for a CEO’s wife.”
“Prick,” he said, his expression tight like if he could find Alejandro right now, he’d smash his face in. Smoke wouldn’t be the only one.
“I’m the one who listened to him,” I said, waving him off. “You think your parents would really consider…”
“Who do you think told me to ask you?” Smoke laughed, moving to my side when Mateo stopped suckling and began to snore. “My ma had plans for you and the kid inside of a half hour of meeting you. If you’re not careful, she’ll have you married off to a cousin or…” He frowned, looking away like he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish that sentence.
Smoke followed my hand when I moved it to his thigh and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft, sweet. He didn’t try to back away or make an excuse for why we shouldn’t be kissing.
I knew what last night was. We didn’t talk about it.
It happened. It was over.
It probably wouldn’t be repeated, but still Smoke kissed me, still seemed to like that.
I ended the kiss first, smiling at how he watched me, liking the way he held my face, how those steely eyes seemed to soak up every inch of my face.“Beautiful,”he said.
