Was it that Stewie person? Wasn’t that a breach of attorney-client privilege?
Oh, God, or what if Diesel assumed my leaving meant I’d agreed, in some ass-backward way? What if he was telling everyone we were engaged? What if someone told Uncle Beau?
“I don’t know what folks are saying, but it’s absolutely untrue,” I said vehemently. “I’m not engaged. Not even a little engaged. I’m single as a Pringle. Single as a dollar bill. Single as single can be!”
Ava’s gaze narrowed on me, and I could almost see the Terminator computer working behind her big blue eyes as she no doubt came to some kind of crazy conclusions.
Though, to be fair, nothing she came up with could be crazier than the truth.
I pulled at my collar. “Gracious gravy, it’s warm in here, huh?”
“Uh. Ava meant me, Parrish,” Mal volunteered. Over Beau’s head, he looked down at the hand splayed across the baby’s back and flexed his fingers to show off the simple gold and black band there. He smiled with a kind of quiet pride and bit his lip like he couldn’t quite believe it was real. “Me and Brooks got engaged. That’s what the ring was about at the Lickin’ the other day, remember?”
“Oh. Wow. That’s…” I swallowed against the wave of pure want that nearly towed me under. “Excellent. So happy for you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Mal said. “I sort of figured everyone knew, otherwise I would have told you.”
I shook my head. “Probably my fault I didn’t put two and two together. It’s been a weird week. I’ve been… distracted.”
“Hmm,” Ava said, like a detective who’d gotten a break in a case. “So. Who are you shopping for today?” She glanced around the little boutique.
“Oh, just buying some things for a…a friend.”
“Oooh! Someone local?” Her eyes widened with genuine excitement. “I love getting to meet the new parents in town. We’ve got a great group that meets over at the splash park on Tuesdays through September. It’s fun to see the littlest ones interacting with their future best friends.” She ran a fond hand over her son’s head.
I looked at baby Beau, and it struck me like a physical blow that he was the same age as Marigold. That, if Marigold stayed in the Thicket, she could be his bestie someday. That, if she didn’t stay in town, she wouldn’t just miss out on having Diesel for a dad, she’d miss out on this. The community. The whole zany, close-knit bunch of them.
Which was not my concern, really. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
But my palms started to sweat anyway.
I wasn’t sure whether Diesel wanted anyone in town to know about the baby, especially since things were still so uncertain. But if he did, it was up to him to tell folks.
“Er, no one local,” I said, a little shocked that the lie came to my lips so darn easily. Apparently, it was easy enough to lie when you were protecting someone.
Not just someone. Diesel and Marigold.
Of course, that was the exact moment Kelsey came from the back, hauling a pink basket the size of Ava’s baby carriage.
“Here you are, sir.” Kelsey set the basket on the ground at my feet, only panting slightly. “Your apology baby basket for you to hand deliver in person.” She dusted her hands and said disapprovingly, “Best of luck with it.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat and hefted the basket. “So! It was great to see you guys, but I’ve gotta run—”
“You’re coming to the Tavern with us on Friday, right?” Mal said. “Since you’re super single? It’ll be fun.”
Oh, right. Dinner with Uncle Beau, Mal, and Brooks.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Even though fun was the last thing I wanted to think about when I had to break this news to Diesel.
I was so, so screwed.
Mal’s eyes had a mischievous glint way too similar to Ava’s. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I was glad at least one of us was.
4
Diesel
I had approximately seventeen and a half minutes at most before the ticking time bomb that was my sweet girl went off and stopped my productivity for the rest of the afternoon. I’d already mowed the dirt patch that pretended to be a lawn out front and picked the aggressive weed colony from the flower bed by the mailbox. Up next was finishing the tall wooden privacy fence that would block the view of the salvage yard from the street and allow the caseworker to ignore the giant lot full of sharp, rusty parts just lying in wait to attack my niece at any moment.
I’d set the fence posts last night after putting Marigold to sleep. After the frustrating visit from Stewie and the horribly embarrassing desperation I’d shown to poor Parrish Partridge, I’d been full up on angry energy.
How the hell could I have ever asked a perfect stranger to pretend to be married to me? I was a no-good salvage dealer who didn’t even have a proper high school diploma. And Parrish… Parrish was the very opposite. He was smart and successful, tidy and poised. The man was a breath of fresh air that shouldn’t ever even be near all my stink.