“Yeah. Sure.”

Crush walked away from her, heading toward the elevators, and home.

“Man, does that guy run hot and cold.” She faced Novikov and Blayne. “At the very least you’d think he’d want to sleep with the ‘Bare Knuckles’ Malone.”

Shaking her head and throwing her hands up in the air, Blayne let out a big, overdramatic sigh.

“What’s that for?”

Unable to speak—which was amazing for Blayne—she motioned to Novikov.

“What?” Cella pushed.

“You’re really surprised he left?” Novikov asked.

“Yeah. I wore these sweats on purpose—they make my ass look great. I have a beautiful smile—as always. And we had a great game.”

“We had an okay game,” Novikov felt the need to correct. Cella balled her fingers into fists and he waved the correction away. “Forget I said anything.”

“I will. So explain to me what I did wrong with Mr. Uptight.”

Blayne lunged forward, forefinger jabbing dangerously, but Novikov pulled her back and held her with one hand.

“I’ll run it down for you. You introduced that tiger as your daughter’s father.”

“Bri is her father.”

“You discussed your gift-giving plans.”

“It’s Meghan’s eighteenth on Sunday and we’re planning to give her a car, but we have to figure out which one. Something sporty or something reliable? I’m thinking sporty.”

“Right. You also briefly talked about wedding plans and a bachelorette party.”

“My mom is the planner for Bri’s wedding here and I’m maid of honor in the States so I’m handling that bachelorette party for Rivka. I still don’t see the problem.”

“That’s because you’re looking at each thing individually when you should be stepping back and taking in the whole discussion. Then pretend for five seconds that you’re a normal person rather than, ya know, you, and think about how a normal person would see that whole thing without having any context whatso—”

“Oh, my God!”

Novikov nodded. “Exactly.”

Crush neared the front door of the Sports Center, the full-humans instinctively moving out of his way, when the feline suddenly cut in front of him. She slapped her hand against his chest, stopping him from going any farther.

“It’s not my wedding.”

Crush frowned. “Pardon?”

She took a breath—she must have run all the way up—and repeated, “It’s not my wedding. He’s father to my child, but he’s not marrying me. He’s marrying someone else completely.”

“And will he get custody?”

“Custody of who?”

“The child that can barely reach the stove, but you leave alone for hours?”

“Barely reach the ... You mean Meghan?” She laughed. “Meghan’s seventeen.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously, I was joking. You have heard of jokes, right?”

“Thought jokes were supposed to be funny.”

“It helps if one has a sense of humor.” She patted his chest. “But with some work and care, I’m sure I can give you one.”

“No thanks.”

Startled, she took a step back. “You’re not going to give me a chance to prove I’m a wonderful person?”

“You already think you’re a wonderful person. What do you need me for?”

She dropped her hands to her hips, squinting up at him.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re just a dick or if you’re really an uptight, overthinking good guy?”

“How about I make the decision for you.”

Crush stepped around her and walked out, determined to get away from this insane feline. And, as the door closed behind him, Crush heard her bark, “Well I guess it’s just you being a dick then, huh?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Cella woke up swinging, but her wrists were quickly caught and held and a strong voice snapped, “Ma!”

Cella opened her eyes, immediately relaxed. “Hey, baby. Was I sleep-punching again?”

“No.” Meghan released her.

“What time is it?”

“Three a.m.”

“Really?” Then Cella grinned and threw her arms wide, wrapping them around her daughter. “Baby, it’s your birthday!”

Meghan hugged her back, but sighed. “Yeah. Great birthday.”

“What’s wrong?” Cella leaned back. “You and Josie have a fight?”

“No. I got my ... ya know.”

“Your period? Would you just say it? You’re going to be a doctor.”

“I’d prefer to say my menstruation started, but then you’d get bitchy about that.”

“That just sounds snobby.”

“Anyway, I was wondering if you could take me to the twenty-four-hour drugstore on Jericho Turnpike? I’m out of supplies.”

“Your cousins don’t have anything you can use?”

“I’m sure they do ... they also have brothers that I’d rather not sit around with on my birthday discussing this.”

Cella shuddered, remembering life with her own cousins at that age. Nothing was sacred or secret.

Throwing off the covers, Cella got out of bed. “Come on.”

After changing out of her shorts and tank top and into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, she grabbed a set of SUV keys and they went out onto the street that the Malone family had taken over long before little Meghan was born. It was a street that Nassau police steered clear of. So did any local car thieves or home invaders. Every once in a while, those who didn’t know the area well enough or thought they were too smart to get caught came here looking to steal or just cause problems.