I sit on the floor at his feet, crossing my black leggings. “One, Gianna sought me out because of her sister, not friend. Two, they stared hard at my locket. Three, there’s a wren on my locket, and their parents were from Wren’s Song. Four ...” I chew my lips.
“What?”
I heave out a breath. “I have nothing but gut instinct.”
“You looked them up online and found nothing, no address?”
“They keep their heads low, and your cronies didn’t know.”
He takes a sip of his peppermint tea, then sets it down to pick up his phone. He appears to send a text, then gives me a look, the onethat says we need to talk. “Why don’t we table this and move on to something else?”
I manage to push up a smirk. Tuck. It’s all he wants to discuss.
“Are you itching for a new honey badger painting?”
He mutters under his breath, and I catch a “Stubborn woman,” then, “When are you going to tell him? How long can this go on? What is your plan? He’s going to see the changes in your body.” His face reddens.
My fingers pluck at my sweater, and my throat prickles.
Tuck doesn’t want kids.
He’s going to be angry.
And commitment? He’s not even close to that.
His voice softens. “MissLane ...”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I turn and look out the window. Central Park is covered in two feet of snow, the first good snowfall we’ve had this year. My mother left me in such a snow, but I won’t leave my child—I want her so much. If only he’d feel the same.
I admire his struggle to find strength in tackling his childhood traumas, the kindness he shows people that he isn’t even aware of. I love how he laughs with his whole face—the dimples, the crinkling of the skin at the corners of his eyes. The way he wraps his whole body around me at night as if I might slip away any moment. Emotion clenches at my chest. I love the intimacy I feel when he holds my eyes. As if it’s just me in his world.
I take a sip of tea, fighting to keep my eyes from leaking. “Do you think there are any honey badgers in New York State? Funny. I wish I knew more about them.”
“You should have been a lawyer. No, my dear, the American badger is found in the Great Plains region of the US, but I saw a honey badger on a trip to Africa.”
“Did it run at you?” I bare my teeth and growl. “Were you scared?”
“Pah! Nothing scared me, but they’re the meanest animal in the world, and their only enemy is man. They’ve killed buffalo, lions, wildcats, even men. They go for the balls first.”
“Phew. I was worried I might see one on the subway.”
He nods, in the groove now. “Honey badgers would decimate a subway. They have thick muscles and sharp claws. If they attack a beehive, they release a noxious fume that flushes them out.”
“Just out of its ass?”
He gives me a look. “Scent glands, MissLane.”
An hour later, we’ve watched YouTube videos of honey badgers in the wild and brainstormed a trip to Africa. No talk of Tuck. I win.
His doorbell rings, and I move to answer it. “I’ll get it.”
“If that’s Widow Carnes, tell her I’m dead already,” he calls out.
“With pleasure. Maybe I should tell her all your money is going to charity.”
I swing the door open and blink. “Levi? What are you doing here?”
“Francesca? I thought Mr.Darden lived here.”