“You and your act. You pretend to be all macho and moral with guys that overstep with women. You threatened Nate, right? Got in his face after what happened with me? Told him what he did was wrong? You told me that you wouldn’t let him touch me ever again. But really, you protect men like that. They’re your friends. You just like being a bully.”

“And you—” Rick dragged a hand over his mouth, wiping away whatever insult had been moments from his lips. “Look. Keep Layla away from him. That’s all I ask.”

“I know what’s best for my daughter. Not you.”

Rick held up both hands in surrender again. The act seemed to pain him as one hand quickly returned to his side. He kept it there, holding his ribs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said before limping toward the exit. “Remember, I warned you plenty.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

IMANI

Working from home was slowing her down. Had Imani been in her office, the billing would have been finished already. Instead, she was filling out her third insurance claim out of the dozen or so she had pending. Everything was distracting her. The lingering scent of coconut curry from the dinner that Philip had whipped up. The dishes that she knew were sitting in the kitchen sink. The sound of the occasional passing car. The front door that had yet to open.

Tonya hadn’t replied to her message. But her renter wouldn’t avoid the coming conversation by ignoring a text. Imani was determined to sit at the dining room table all day if that’s what it took. The woman had to return sometime. She lived there, after all.

Though not for long. Hopefully.

For the umpteenth time since Philip had left, Imani wished that he was home. He’d argued that his role as Tonya’s boss put him in a precarious position with regard to kicking her out of the house. If he were present, Tonya could twist the conversation into a business issue, perhaps claiming that he was leveraging his position to make her acquiesce to something unfair. He didn’t want to give her grounds for a lawsuit.

Imani couldn’t imagine how Tonya would sue Philip for asking her to leave his family residence. But she also knew that even frivolous lawsuits cost money to defend against. She’d ultimately relented, letting him hide out at the restaurant, leaving her to deal with the problem he’d created.

Imani returned her attention to the insurance claim on her screen. Her ten-o’clock appointment on Tuesdays was a twelve-year-old boy with hyperactivity and extreme anxiety. His insurance had yet to reimburse her for the past five sessions. She was becoming nervous that the health care provider intended to dispute the diagnosis.