We both make faces and laugh at the same time. He washes his hands carefully as I make sure nothing else happens with the drains. I do the same.

Eli hugs me in the hallway. When did he get taller than me? Only by about an inch, but he’s definitely grown. I squeeze him, patting his back. Long ago, before he was born, my mother gave me the best advice I ever had about parenting. When hugging your children, never be the one who lets go first.

I hug my son. He smells a little of sweat, a faint hint of cigarette smoke, perhaps a splash or two of beer. I don’t let him go.

Eli’s the one who steps back first. “’Night, Mom.”

In my own room, I look across the backyard. The carriage house is dark. I can’t see if Christian’s SUV is there, or any other vehicles.

Thanks for taking Eli to the concert, I text.

No immediate answer. None after I’m done brushing my teeth with a dry toothbrush and not flushing after I use the toilet. No answer as I’m slipping into bed.

Goodnight, I text, and this time the tiny message beneath turns from Delivered to Read.

I turn my phone face down on the nightstand so I don’t see anything lighting up in reply. Love or money, Lisa had said. People will do anything for love or money.

She was drunk by then, expansive, not quite morose but heading in that direction. She wasn’t serious. She certainly wasn’t offering to help me.

But she had a point.

I understand what it’s like to do bad things for the sake of love, and I know how it feels to be willing to do bad things for money, too. I don’t have anyone in my life right now who’d do something for me out of love, but do I know someone who could be motivated to do it for money?

I think I might.

CHAPTER
26

CHRISTIAN LOUNGES IN the carriage house doorway. He yawns. I’ve woken him, even though it’s two o’clock in the afternoon. He wears only a pair of dark denim jeans hanging low on his hips, no shoes, no shirt. Gooseflesh ripples his chest and arms. His hair is rumpled, maybe damp.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?” He’s quoting Fright Night, a movie we fooled around to more than once.

I hate the way these little hints make me think he remembers everything about me, the same way I do about him.

“I need more money for rent, Christian. Or you need to get out, and I need to get another tenant in here who’ll pay. Promises don’t cover my bills.”

“Good luck finding someone willing to put up with a backed-up toilet every other week,” he shoots back and follows my gaze over his shoulder, then returns it to my face. “I’m alone, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” I was.

“Do you want to come in? We can talk about it.” Without waiting for me to answer, Christian pivots and leaves me standing on the doorstep.