“Yes.”
“She’s like our grandma. Our mom’s mom.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Our dad’s mom is White like you.”
“Interesting.”
“We see White grandma on Thanksgiving and we see Black grandma on Christmas.” The youngest of the Bakers was nine. Rafe had forgotten how blunt six-year-olds were.
“I’m sure they miss you all year long.”
Rafe didn’t have much to put away, just his clothes and a few toiletries. He’d deal with the rest after the twins went to sleep. While he filled up the dresser, he let the girls ramble on about their family. He listened carefully, asking gentle follow-up questions. By the time he was done, he could tell that they felt a little adrift. He could relate. Starting school would be good for them. They’d make friends and start building more of their own little universe outside of Sloan and her ex.
“I’m all done,” he said. “Come on.”
“We have to stay home today, but you can help me finish my puzzle,” Addison said as they walked into the kitchen.
“I’m in. Let’s do it. But first, I have to check on something.” He lightly touched Sloan’s elbow. She was in the middle of telling Gracie about changes in undergrad requirements. When she turned to face him, he forced himself not to be affected by her smile.
“Hey.”
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“Not at all. What’s up?”
“The keys to the Tahoe? I just want to see how much gas is in it.”
“Oh god,” Gracie groaned.
“What?” Sloan asked.
“You will literally never run out of gas as long as he’s living with you. He and my dad, all the time, ‘You got enough gas? You need gas? Make sure you stop and get gas?’ It’s best not to fight it. He’s gonna make sure you got gas.”
“Good to know,” Sloan said with a snort as she walked to other side of the kitchen where four sets of keys were hanging on hooks. She handed him a Chevy key on a ring with a few other keys.
Rafe took them with a “thank you,” then shrugged. “Old habit. Top off the tank on Sunday. Nothing worse than hopping in the car Monday morning with cranky children and realizing you have to stop for gas.”
“Okay, that’s smart. Enjoy.”
“I will.” Rafe headed out to the garage and was hit by the stifling heat that was already building up in the oddly clean space. Sloan liked to keep things in order. Rafe walked around the back of Sloan’s Mercedes, pressing the automatic lock on the Tahoe. He opened the driver’s side door and was punched in the face by the worst fucking smell in his life. Something had died in that car and started to rot. He shook his head, then took another whiff. Definitely rotten fruit and something else. He took a quick look around, but could find anything. He was starting to sweat and even if he found the source of the foul as fuck stench, he needed to properly air the car out. He went back inside.
“Everything okay?” Sloan must have seen the look on his face.
“Yeah. There’s just something rotting in the Tahoe. I’m gonna take it to get detailed.”
“Oh gross. I’d say you don’t have to do that, but—”
“Better him than you,” Gracie said.
“Pretty much.”
“It’s why you pay me the big bucks. I’ll bring you a receipt.”
“Can we come?” Addison asked.
“Yeah! I wanna go.” Avery added.
