How long until I react like a normal person again?
“I gotta get the sauce together.” He throws his suit jacket to the couch and then he’s back, rolling his sleeves.
“What the fuck is that?” he asks.
I manage to follow his eyes despite that I think my heart has stopped. “What?”
What did I do now to screw up this dinner?
He turns the tap on and soaps up his hands.
“Pineapple?” He looks at the chopped fresh pineapple in the pile beside the diced peppers.
“Yeah,” I smile, thinking here we go. People either love pineapple on pizza or find the thought abhorrent. It’s never really in the middle, from my experience. And I love it.
He shakes his head. “Fuck. And here I thought you were perfect. Fruit doesn’t go on pizza, baby.”
I gasp in mock horror and then pop a chunk in my mouth. “Mm.”
I then hold a piece out and offer it to him. He winks and accepts it by playfully biting my finger as he takes it.
“See? It’s good.”
“Good on its own, good in a fruit salad or an upside-down cake, but not on a fuckin’ pizza.”
“Fine. Just put it on half,” I offer with a shrug.
He makes a face of distaste and then pulls out a pot and opens the jar of strained San Marzano tomatoes I picked up.
“And technically…” I inform, “Bell peppers are a fruit and so are tomatoes, so your fruit argument does not hold water.”
The left side of his mouth goes up and he gives me a shake of his head. “Pour us some wine, baby?” He lifts a knife and runs it through a pile of fresh herbs on the chopping board.
“Of course. How was your day?” I ask, wandering over to the wall of wine.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to be here with you,” he tells me, reaching into the fridge for the tube of minced garlic.
I bite my lip and smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“Your mail will be here tomorrow. And all your photo albums,” he adds, casually. “He’s been arrested.”
I nearly drop the bottle of wine in my hand. “What?”
“He fleeced the old lady in your building for that money. That was the biggest chunk of my day... dealing with that.”
I jolt in surprise.
“He told the cops she gave it to him as a gift, but we’ll see what happens. She thinks he’s her son who died fifteen years ago. She came out while he was being arrested and the cops saw themselves what her state of mind is with him. Obviously, he took advantage of that. He’s in jail right now at least.”
Wow. I’m shocked.
I knew there was no way he came by that money in a way that was honest, but poor Mrs. Shear.
“Cleaned all but seven hundred bucks out of her account. What he owed me and five g’s besides.”
“Poor Mrs. Shear.”
“She’ll get her money back,” he says.
“How?” I ask.
He gives me a look. “You think I’m gonna keep that money he stole from her? You don’t think much of me, Violet?”
“No, not… no. Ray owed you that money,” I say.
“I don’t want it when he stole it from an old lady with dementia, Violet. I can stand to lose it a fuckuva lot easier than she can.”
“Of course,” I say. “Sorry. I’m just… wow.”
I swallow hard. I’m relieved and sick to my stomach in equal measure. I’m relieved he won’t get away with it. Holy! The depths he sank to. I gave three years of my life to a guy that would do that? I gave everything to that guy. I gave him more than I had, so much that I lost myself.
And that Killian would not keep the money? That says a lot. And if I’m honest, if he did decide to keep it, it would’ve probably messed with me once I thought about it. It would speak volumes about his character. I’m glad that he’s not keeping it, though I hate that he’s out all that money.
“I want to pay you that money,” I blurt. “Even if it takes time for me to do it, I’ll-”
He shakes his head. “I’m not worried about it.”
“You can’t exactly hand it to the cops, right? Not without getting asked a whole lot of questions…”
“Sure I can. If I hand it to the cops and say he fucked me over for money working for me. I have an employment contract that he signed, Violet. And then he broke it and fucked off.”
I blink in surprise.
“I’m not runnin’ some mickey mouse operation, baby. He signed that contract.”
“My name wouldn’t come up? The… uh… marker arrangement?”
“That shit stain is stupid but let’s hope he’s not that stupid. If he is, we’ll deal with the stupidity then. But I probably won’t fork that cash over to the cops unless he does show that stupidity. It’ll get tied up with court and mean a lot of questions. I’ll find another way to make sure she’s okay. I already had a conversation with your super. Oh. And remember the gun he got his hands on?”