Deanna didn’t have a response to that.

This was because we both knew a Gamble man went for what he wanted no matter what.

Hell, Iz had Johnny’s ginormous rock on her finger, was living with him and he’d had stables especially built for her horses at his property, and they hadn’t even been seeing each other for a year.

Yeah.

A Gamble man went after what he wanted, locked it down, and then . . . onward.

“Listen, I’m not saying anything against Toby,” I spoke into her silence. “I get it. He’s not into me. That’s understandable. I am baggage. And Deanna, you have to remember, I watched this kind of thing happen with my mom over and over again. After my dad, she looked for love. She had an open and hopeful heart. She wanted that for herself. She wanted stability for her girls. And she got knocked down again and again by guys who wanted in her pants but wanted nothing to do with some other man’s kids. At least Toby’s honest about it. That genuinely says good things about him. Really good. And I appreciate it.”

This was a total lie.

I did not appreciate it.

I was attracted to Toby Gamble.

I wanted to taste his mouth and other parts of him.

I wanted to feel his skin and see what his body looked like under those tees and jeans.

I wanted to fuck him. I wanted that to be wild and intense and so enthralling, the world ceased to exist, all of it, except what we were doing to each other and how it was making us feel.

I wanted to sleep beside him.

I wanted to wake up next to him.

I wanted to feel his arms around me. Not like they were that terrible afternoon when I’d sobbed into his neck and he’d carried me to Izzy’s bed or that other, far more terrible afternoon when my baby had been stolen from me.

I just wanted him to hold me.

I wanted Brooklyn to grow up with a man like Toby Gamble. Not just as his somewhat uncle who would lift him high and make him fly or let him crawl all over him when we were at a diner eating burgers just because me and my son were there, and he was a decent guy who liked kids. But as a guy who was always there, eventually showing my boy the way in matters his mother could not.

I wasn’t in love with him.

But I knew if he gave me even the barest hint he’d even think of going there with me, I’d take that fall.

And when I did, if it didn’t work, I also knew it would annihilate me.

Perry had been about me finding my father. As much as I wanted to deny that truth, looking back, I could not.

When I’d met him—with the edge he’d convinced me he’d had, the rock ’n’ roll dreamer who could murder a guitar riff and rasp out a thumping song—the rebel in me was convinced I could walk in my mother’s footsteps but do it right.

I’d learned like I always learned.

You couldn’t tell me dick.

I had to fuck up and then I’d know.

And never do it again.

Now, I had a son.

And he was everything.

I couldn’t take those risks anymore. Especially not the ones involving my heart.

I couldn’t learn lessons the hard way.

Because Brooks would be forced to take those knocks with me.

And that could not happen.

So Toby Gamble built his wall.

And I was gonna stay on my side.

For Brooklyn.

And for Izzy.

Also for Johnny.

For me.

And last, for Toby.

“I’m not sure you’re reading this sitch right, baby girl,” Deanna said gently.

“I am,” I replied firmly. I went back to matching socks and assured, “It’s okay. I’m okay. Is the man beautiful? Yeah. Is he a good guy? Totally. In a dream world would I think about going there? For sure. But I don’t live in a dream world, honey. I live in the real world. Always have. The only time I strayed off that path was when I took a shot with Perry. And I can’t say that was a total loss, because I have Brooks. So in the end, it’s all good.”

At least that was true.

From what the utility bills I’d opened that night told me, and what that would mean to my bank balance and my ability to buy my son Christmas presents, and, say . . . food, many wouldn’t think that was the case.

But the life I’d lived, I knew it was.

“Okay, Addie,” Deanna murmured.

“So I’ll see you and Charlie around five on Sunday?” I asked.

“Sure thing, babe,” she assured. “And, well, sorry if I upset you about the Toby thing.”

“You didn’t upset me. It’s cool. It just isn’t what you think.”

“Right,” she muttered doubtfully.

Hmm.

“You take care,” she went on.

“You too. Love you. Later.”

“Love you back. And later.”

We disconnected. I put all that firmly in the back of my mind. Then I finished folding and I left the clothes across the top of the washer and dryer to add the ones from the next load when it was dry. I’d put them away in the morning, or maybe the next evening. Brooklyn wasn’t a light sleeper, but as much as I loved my baby boy, I got tons done when he was down, and I didn’t need to be waking him up by opening and closing drawers in his room.

I took the baby monitor with me when Dapper Dan and I went to Izzy’s upstairs office, which I’d converted into my card-making room after she moved out, and I moved Brooks out of the office where he’d been staying into the guestroom and me into the master.

I was hand painting some pine needles across the top of a card from which I was going to tack some ornaments for Deanna’s Christmas cards, or if she didn’t like them, for Macy’s shop when my phone vibrated.

The screen said Talon Calling.

That meant Toby.

I called him Talon as a joke.

I also called him Talon because it used to make him laugh, and he had a nice laugh. Now he’d heard it so much he just smiled, and he had an amazing smile, all white teeth in that thick coal beard.

I looked to the door, which was closed, then to the baby monitor, which was on, then I took the call.

“Yo, Talon.”

There was that smile of his in his voice when he replied, “Yo, Lollipop.”

Right.

After opening the mental Toby can of worms, that was killer.

He knew how he got Talon and I kept at it because, first, I liked his smile, and second, his father could actually have named him Talon, and Tobe was the kind of guy who could pull that name off, and last because it reminded me how we met, where we were, and helped me put myself in my place.

I had no idea why he called me Lollipop.

I just knew it was cute and it felt good when he called me that, sweet and sugary and all things that were so not me but could make me think he thought of me that way (when he surely didn’t), and I loved it.

I called him Talon all the time.

He called me Lollipop all the time.

Maybe I should quit calling him Talon so he’d stop calling me Lollipop.

“You phoned,” I prompted. “Did you do that just to listen to me breathing?”

I heard his chuckle.

I loved his chuckle.

Shit.

“Nope. You got lights for the outside?” he asked.

“What?” I asked back.

“Christmas lights,” he explained. “For the outside of your house.”