"Hey." I set my hand on his thigh. "What's wrong?"
He grabbed my fingers and squeezed. "Nothing. I . . . " He shook his head and blew out another breath. "I really need to get going. Tris still isn't answering her phone. I can't believe she'd have Julian out this long. She's not
. . . " He shook his head again. "It's just not like her."
I nodded as if I understood, even though I understood nothing. "Why didn't you ever tell me about you and her?" I blurted out.
He hesitated and refused to meet my gaze. "What do you mean?"
"You don't have a real marriage."
He lifted his face and cringed, looking apologetic. "Trust me, it's real. I have a license signed by a judge to prove it."
"But it's not real, real. You don't love her. You don't have sex with her. You've never had sex with her. And Julian's not yours."
"How . . . ?" He cocked his head to the side, suddenly suspicious. "How'd you learn all that?"
I let out an exaggerated sigh. "It doesn't matter how. It matters that you never bothered to tell me any of it yourself. Why didn't you think I deserved to know? I thought we were at least friends. And you knew I always felt guilty about the way we . . . interacted."
"Eva . . . " He glanced away, torment creasing his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. When he came back to face me, he gave a heavy sigh. "We are friends."
"Then . . . " I shook my head, confused and hurt. "Why?"
He opened his mouth. "I . . . I like you," he admitted as if it were some kind of great confession.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Wouldn't that mean you should feel more comfortable sharing those kinds of facts with me, then?"
He lifted his hand, as if to tell me he was having trouble explaining. "I . . . I mean, if I wasn't tied down to her right now . . . if I wasn't . . . " He groaned and shoved his fingers through his hair again. "I would want to be more than just your friend."
"Oh." I gulped. Oh, wow.
He watched me intently, regret in his dark brown eyes. "I can't annul the marriage. She's an awful mother. I feel sick about even admitting that out loud, but it's true, and I feel even worse every time I have to leave Julian alone with her. I never know if she's going to skip feeding him or not change his diaper or just leave him in his swing all day. That's why I'm itching to get home right now. What if . . . anything could be happening. If I stop this marriage, I will have no rights to him whatsoever. I basically don't now, but it's better than nothing." His eyes reddened around the edges as he pushed off the bed and cleared his throat. "I need to get home."
He was at the door before I collected my scattered thoughts enough to say, "Pick."
He stopped but kept his back to me, his head bowed.
"I understand," I said softly.
He glanced at me, looking almost sick with regret. Then his gaze flickered longingly over Skylar. "Take care of yourself, Tinker Bell."
And then he was gone.
Chapter 17
EVA
On Sunday evening, Reese and I gave Skylar her first sponge bath at the kitchen table. We were oohing and ahhing over every tiny finger and toe when Mason got a call on his cell phone.
"Shit," he muttered to the caller. "Yeah, I can take on tomorrow night. I'm already working Wednesday and Thursday. Can you handle Friday? Good. I promised Reese a date night."
When he hung up and rubbed his tired face, Reese straightened to shoot him a curious glance. "What's going on?"
Mason glanced uneasily at me before saying, "That was Noel. Pick's babysitter has chicken pox, or her kids do or . . . someone. I don't know. They're all contagious for the next two weeks, so he has to stay home with his boy until he finds someone he can trust to watch him."
I frowned. "What about his wife?"
It was her son. Why was he looking for babysitters? And why wasn't she taking off from her own job to watch him?