I stop at the kitchen for a glass of water, then decide to grab a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry on the way to the living room, where Davis waits on the couch with a stupid, smug grin on his face.
“It’s not like that,” I tell him, echoing my earlier statement.
“It sure looks like that.”
I plop down into an armchair and cross an ankle over my knee before tearing open the bag of chips and shoving one into my mouth.
“I’m helping her.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you are!” He can barely hold back his howling laughter – not that he’s making much effort to.
“I’m serious,” I insist. “Things exploded at home and she and her sister were gonna end up in fucking Ridge Park if I didn’t do something.”
“And all your other places justhappenedto be occupied?” He mocks, then reaches over to steal a handful of chips out of the bag.
“I offered them to her.”
“You know I’m not buyin’ a single bit of this shit, right?”
“Don’t have to. Just don’t let your little theories leave this building,” I warn him. “She’s vulnerable.”
He throws his hands up in mock surrender, telling me “None of my business to talk about, man. Now, do you have any rooms that don’t have ready and willing twenty-somethings in them? As much as I’d love to, I’m tired as shit,” he winks. “Maybe in the mornin’.”
Fighting back the urge to give into his taunting, I direct him to an empty room, then follow shortly after, making my way to my own bedroom.
I stop on the way and crack Rowan’s door open, then poke my head in to see if she’s asleep again yet. I could just go in there and join her, but I’d catch hell for it in the morning; both from Davis and from her. She’s not exactly someone who likes her personal business becoming other peoples’ business without her say-so; and Davis would have a field day with it if we left her room together in the morning.
In an act of mercy, Davis is gone by the time I wake up, which means that neither of the girls had to deal with him.
I grab my phone and put in an order for breakfast to be delivered, and I get busy setting out the food once it arrives, to get it ready for the girls to choose from. An array of croissants, belgian waffles, beignets, and several varieties of danish line the dining room table.
An idea I probably shouldn’t have – no, Idefinitelyshouldn’t have - starts to take shape in my mind, building upon itself more and more the longer I wait for the girls to come out.
Macie is the first to wake, her shouts of excitement over the sweet spread bringing Rowan out of her room just a few minutes later.
“Jeez, what did you do, buy a bakery?” She asks, her voice still groggy with sleep.
“I was hungry,” I smile.
Macie is already halfway down the table, dragging a plate with her and putting pastries onto it like she’s at a buffet, by the time Rowan and I decide on our own food items.
The three of us sit at the table and eat in silence for a while as I scroll through the headlines for the day’s news like I always do.
“Anything good?” Rowan asks.
I shake my head. “Same old, same old.” I down my espresso in one gulp and set the cup back down on the table, making a final, impulsive decision. “Hey, Rowan, how would your sitter feel about staying here for a few days?”
“Days?”
“Yes.”
“I mean,” she considers, “she would probably love it.”
“Good. Ask her when would work for her.”
When she asks me why, I answer with a simple smile and return to my news.
There’s a seventy-two percent chance that I’m still drunk.
