I don’t push the kid issue because I don’t even know how I feel about it for sure. It’s not something I’ve thought a lot about specifically, but looking at her, I think I know the answer.
“I have a charity event in a couple of days. It’s something my parents put on every year and I can’t get out of it. The Garalent Gala,” I say. “It’s named after my mother’s family. Proceeds benefit Alzheimer’s.”
“Sounds fun,” she says, sipping her coffee.
My stomach churns a bit when I realize I always take Daphne to the Gala, and I’ve committed to doing that again this year.
Looking at her sweet face, I figure I’ll get out of it.
“Want to come with me?” I ask.
“I can’t,” she replies easily. “I have to work.”
“Alison, please.”
She places her mug on the table and her hands go to her hips. “Please what?”
I blow out a breath, sensing the argument that’s right there for the taking. I don’t want to fight with her, but I do want things to start trending to what they are going to be.
“Can we talk really plainly for a minute?” I ask.
“Sure. Shoot.”
“I
think we both know where this is heading.”
“This as in . . .”
I shake my head. “This as in me and you. And Huxley too.” I lean against the sink, feeling my shirt get wet, but not caring. “Once this election is over, I really want us to take the next step.”
She forces a swallow and takes a seat at the table. “As in what?”
“As in us being together.” The words sound odd coming from my mouth, but I’ve never meant anything more. “I want to take care of you guys, try to be the man in both of your lives. You know, whatever that means.”
“We don’t need someone to take care of us, Barrett.”
I blow out a long breath. “Fine then. I need someone to take care of me, and I’d like you to be the one to do that.”
She watches me but doesn’t speak. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so I keep talking to try to sway her to my side.
“This thing is over in less than a week. For a lot of reasons, including the one that you won’t need to work in catering anymore, another being I’d rather be comfortable knowing you’re home and safe for these last few days, I really wish you’d consider quitting Luxor.”
“No.”
I’m shocked by the quickness, the simplicity of her answer. “No? Just . . . no?”
“No. I’m not quitting my job for anyone, not even you.”
“Why? That’s just dumb.”
She laughs, but she doesn’t find it funny. I can see that in her eyes. “I gave everything up once for a man. I put my dreams, my goals on hold to get him ahead, and once he did . . . poof. He was gone. And I had a child and a little divorce money that felt like severance pay. Never again, Barrett. Never again.”
“So, what? If I’m elected, we’re moving to Atlanta and you’ll find a catering job there? That’s ridiculous.”
“First of all,” she says, standing again, her ferocity back, “you don’t know that you’ll be elected for sure. Second, if you are, we’ll have to figure it out then. Third, who said I’m moving with you? We haven’t, you know, talked about that.”
“I already know what I want. I want to take care of you, and I want you to be the girl that accompanies me to events and is home with dinner after work.”