Chapter 2

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Upstairs, Fay was running up and down the hall, making my ceiling thump. Good, she was awake. I finally had something to keep me busy.

Maxime had left an hour ago. I’d tried taking a nap in front of the TV, bored out of my mind but too tired to sleep.

Not bothering with my slippers or shoes, I sauntered up the wrought iron staircase connecting my sister’s apartment to mine. Six years ago, Anthony and I had bought this duplex in hopes of drawing in a third income. When he’d left me for Lucas the man slut, I’d emotionally blackmailed Anthony into signing the property over to me. That done, I’d moved my sister and my niece Fay upstairs. I charged my sister ridiculously cheap rent, which allowed her to actually live instead of survive. She was a singlemom, but she had me to count on. I was Fay’s godfather, and not a day went by when the three of us didn’t see or speak to each other.

At their door, I looked through the glass pane and saw my niece run up.

“Uncle Allan, look at this,” she said, pulling me in. “I can hit her straight in the head.” She ran back to the end of the hall where she picked up her favorite doll—the one I’d given her at her seventh birthday in February—and propped the blond baby girl up against a pillow. She ran back to me and noddedseriously. “Ready?”

I shut the door behind us and returned her serious look. “Go.”

She rolled a rubber ball between her little fingers and crouched down. “Right between the eyes, you’ll see.”

“I’m watching.”

Fay threw the rubber ball with striking precision and hit the doll in the face, knocking it flat on its back. She jumped up and clapped her hands. “It’s ten times now. That’s my record.”

“Impressive.”

Fay wasn’t a violent child. She just liked aiming at things. She wanted to be a cop. And my sister was avegetarian florist who couldn’t even kill a spider in her shower. Go figure.

I tousled her hair. “Your mom still asleep?”

Fay ran to the kitchen. “I want the Nutella pancakes.”

“Want?” I followed her into the messy kitchen. Last night’s dishes were in the sink and bills were scattered all over the table. I stuffed the utility bill in my hooded sweater pocket. I’d take care of it this week. “Let’s clean up first, okay?”

Fay looked at me as if I’d spoken to her in a foreign tongue.

“Come on, your mom needs a little help.”

“Hell yes, I do.” Dressed in her pink flannel robe, Elsie yawned, dragging her bare feet into the kitchen. “And I need a cup of coffee, too.” She dropped a kiss on my cheek. “How was your night?”

I pulled a face. “David and Kaliq fought all night and I had to play mediator. Then Kaliq disappeared and David had a breakdown on the curb.” I poured some water into the coffee machine. “When David finally left, I went back up to the shooter bar…and, you know.” I shot Fay a look, but she was engrossed in her morning cartoons.

Elsie gave me the coffee can. “Cute?”

“So, so cute.”

“It was nice?”

“I think so.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yep.”

She squeezed my arm. “His loss.”

My sister was my biggest fan. And of course, that was the problem with my love life. I didn’t want my fan club to consist of two women I was genetically related to. “He was French anyway,” I said, turningthe machine on. “And kind of skinny.”

She laughed. “You’re so picky.”

“And you’re not?”

“Well, I think those days are over, my dear boy. I met someone yesterday. A guy. At the store. He just waltzed in looking for chrysanthemums for his boss’s birthday and…oh my God, we hit it off like crazy—”

“Really?” Elsie’s bad luck with men was legendary.

She got some cups out of the cupboard and moved in closer, careful lest Fay hear. In hurried words, she told me his name was Dayton and he was a math teacher. But he wasn’t one of those math teachers. No, he was built like an athlete and had piercing gray-blue eyes. Wonderful teeth. Good hair. Blondish. Tall. Very, very tall. With this voice. Oh, a voice made for movies. And he had broad shoulders and such a wicked sense of humor. He smiled like he was on drugs all the time, but he really wasn’t, see, because he was a teacher and he loved kids. He didn’t have any himself, though he wanted to…well, eventually. Not like they’d actually mentioned kids. Or maybe they had, but—

“Whoa, slow down.” I laughed.