“I like this for you, my Rebel,” she told me.

“I like it too,” I whispered.

“And you know, if he grows up to look like his father, you got years of goodness ahead of you.”

I grinned again. “I know. I mean, seriously. Talk about a DILF.”

She grinned back but noted, “Not to be a wet blanket, but this means, Rush becomes your old man, all the girls’ll think he’s a DILF.”

I did not care even a little bit.

If Rush became my old man, he’d be mine.

We both turned from staring giddily in each other’s eyes when Roscoe strolled in.

He was followed by a cat.

He stopped.

The cat stopped.

“Fuck, you’re drinkin’ tea,” he muttered. “Got any beer?” he asked Essence.

“You need to be on your game, keeping us safe,” I reminded him. “Not downing beers.”

“Babe, I drink beer with breakfast,” he retorted.

“You lie,” I said.

“I’d suggest you spend the night with me and find out, but Rush’d have my balls, so you just gotta trust me.” Back to Essence. “Beer?”

“I think Boz left some brewskis in the fridge,” Essence told him.

He went to the fridge.

The cat went with him.

He got his beer and left.

The cat went with him, as well as Groucho jumping off the butcher block to follow.

“I think you’ve been dethroned,” Essence remarked, staring at the doorway Roscoe disappeared through. “There’s a new cat king.”

This kind of bummed me out.

I loved her cats.

My phone binged again.

I looked down at it.

Amy.

I opened the text.

Sorry, doll, we can’t make it Sunday. Raincheck?

Oh boy.

“What?” Essence asked.

“Amy,” I told her, picking up my phone to text back.

“And this is why your aura went gray,” Essence mumbled.

Everything cool? I texted to Amy.

“We were having brunch on Sunday. She’s cancelled,” I told Essence.

“From your aura, and the expression on your face, I’m guessing this is not a good thing,” Essence noted.

My phone binged again.

Fine. All fine. I’ll call soon and we’ll chat. Love you!

“She’s so lying,” I murmured and texted, Okay. I’m here if you need me. Love you back!

“Lying about what?” Essence asked.

Off the hook for brunch. Not sure that’s a good thing, I texted Rush and looked to Essence. “Paul’s kind of been hitting the bottle a lot since we lost Diane.”

“Ah,” she mumbled.

“I’m worried,” I told her.

“You would not be you if you weren’t.”

“Okay, when I said ‘kind of,’ I meant he’s maybe borderline alcoholic, with about a week until that’s minus the ‘borderline,’” I admitted.

“Ah, hell,” Essence mumbled.

“I was going to have a chat with him at brunch.”

Essence’s face wiped clean.

“I promised Amy,” I defended myself. “She says he won’t listen to her.”

My phone binged.

Text from Rush.

They cancelled?

Yeah, I texted back.

“Rebel, child,” Essence called.

I looked to her.

“If the borderline gets ixnayed, Amy needs to step up.”

“She says she can’t get through.”

“Well then,” Essence replied, “she has to try harder.”

It appeared Essence was in Rush’s camp when it came to this.

I should not be surprised. She had the wisdom and experience of age.

He had what I was sensing was an old soul.

My phone binged.

Rush.

Not your gig. Let it go, he said.

See?

We’ll talk later, I replied.

I turned my attention back to Essence. “Wanna help me pick out a ‘meet the sister’ outfit for tonight?”

She allowed my subject change, God bless her.

“So you’ve met the dad. And the stepmom. And now you’re meeting the sister?”

I nodded.

“Well, dear, his unusual name doesn’t need explaining.”

I grinned at her again.

My phone sounded.

And when we talk later, I’ll tell you it’s not your gig. Let it go. So, babe, let it go.

Hmm . . .

It was a text, and Rush and I had precisely eight bubbles on our text string, so I couldn’t really know.

Still, that tone didn’t seem like him.

Essence yelling, “Roscoe!” made me look again at her.

She looked at me.

“I like having an escort everywhere, even to your cottage. It makes me feel regal. I wish we had some crowns.”

I didn’t think Roscoe would dig on escorting two chicks wearing crowns.

He came in, neck of the beer bottle in the fingers of one hand, Groucho upside down purring loudly cradled in both arms.

Okay.

He was a cat king.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind crowns.

“We need to go to Rebel’s to pick out an outfit,” Essence announced.

Roscoe scowled.

Nope on the crowns.

Essence snatched up her glass. “Let’s go!”

She bounced toward Roscoe not missing a step even when it looked like he wouldn’t get out of her way.

At the last minute, he got out of her way.

I grabbed my glass and followed.

I also decided not to text Rush back. I would be talking to him in person in a couple of hours. I’d suss out his mood then.

Now, I’d spend my afternoon being girlie with Essence, Roscoe and the cats.

And maybe get online and order crowns.

We ended up deciding I’d wear my maxi dress with the V-neck, long sleeves and deep side slit that was robin egg blue with a hot pink, pale pink and green pattern on it that was busy but cool. Cowboy boots. Some necklaces.

The dress was pushing it, since we were coming out of summer, but I figured the cowboy boots and long sleeves evened it out.

And we both did a mani and pedi. Me, ballet pink all around. Essence, red and yellow for fingers, purple and blue for toes.

Needless to say, when Rush showed at my place to pick me up (I added text nine to tell him we were there, I didn’t explain it was because I had the footbath and all the nail polish at my pad), Roscoe practically tossed Essence in a fireman’s hold to get the hell out of there.

This made me giggle as I followed them to the door, shouting after them, “Tomorrow! Facials!”

“Groovy!” Essence shouted back, being guided almost forcefully down my walk.

Roscoe just made a noise.

But it as an unhappy one.

I turned my smile on Rush.

“Hey,” I said.

No “hey” back. No kiss. No touch. No once over of my kickass dress. Not even a glance at my hair, and I’d gone big for him.

He just said, “Ready to go?”

Okay.

Well, suffice it to say, I read that text right. He was ticked I was worried about Amy and Paul.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Great,” he replied shortly. “Ready to go?”

I studied him.

He had not shaved that morning, or the one before. And since I’d seen him every day that week, I felt I could safely say he hadn’t shaved since I first saw him. His stubble was heavy and full, but hot.

I could still see his jaw was tight, as was the skin around his eyes.

“Are you angry with me?” I asked carefully.

“No,” he answered shortly. “Now, babe, you ready to go?”

“Are you sure?” I pushed.

“Jesus, Rebel!” he suddenly exploded, and I froze. “I answered that. Now are you fucking ready to go?”

Okay, so him losing it like that I did not like.

And okay, our first date lasted thirty-eight hours and included a dead body, lots of sex, meeting both his parents, and knowing what he wanted to name his son.

But I did not know him.

And first, I was not going to his sister’s house with him being in a shitty mood.