I expected Daria to make some smartass comment, but she just sighed heavily. “I think you’re making a mistake, Devan. Now isn’t the time to play the martyr. Now is the time to play the White Knight. She looks fucking miserable, and honestly, I’m going to go home and ask Xander if we can adopt her or something, because this shit is heartbreaking.” She made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. “I know you’re technically my boss, but as a friend, I’m telling you now—fight for her, you chickenshit, or you guys will regret it for the rest of your life. She loves you. It’s written all over her fucking heartbroken face. Do something.”

Then she hung up in my ear, but her words spun around and around in my head for the rest of the night. Even after I repeatedly tell myself I was doing the right thing.

Was I respecting her wishes? Or was I just protecting myself, like the chickenshit Daria said I was?

Chapter Thirty-Nine

NOVA

I ran the receipt numbers through my online accounting system for one of my long-time clients, while Huey grizzled beside me. “Two more minutes, baby boy, and then we’ll have some dinner.”

I turned on the mobile that spun around the top of his rocker, which kept him momentarily mesmerized.

My phone pinged again, my cash-sharing app telling me that River had put in another two thousand dollars for Huey’s upkeep. I opened the app and sent the money back. I could look after Huey. And I had no idea what he thought Huey needed that required two grand in a day! I sent him a picture of Huey mesmerized by the bees on his mobile as proof of life.

I worked for another ten minutes, until Huey started grumbling again, and then it was time to stop. Picking him up, I walked into the small kitchen and grabbed his bottle from the fridge, setting it into the bottle warmer. Grabbing a frozen meal from the freezer for me, I shoved it into the microwave and bounced Huey on my shoulder.

He was grumpy today, and I had a feeling he was just picking up my mood. Or maybe he was teething? His gums seemed slightly red, and he was protesting a bit, gnawing on his pacifier. I’d take him to the drugstore tomorrow and see what the pharmacist said.

As if to cement my decision, he started to wail a little. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, okay? And tomorrow, I’ll get you a nice cool teething ring. You can gnaw on it like a tiny piranha until you feel better, would that be okay?” I bounced him more, rocking side to side, hoping to settle him.