Proving Paul's Promise

I turn to face the door. “Jesus Christ, Friday,” I grit out.

She makes a noise, but I can’t tell if it’s a laugh or if she’s still feeling sick. “Next time, you should give me some time alone when I’m in the bathroom,” she yells over the noise of the water.

“Can I go to the doctor with you tomorrow?” I call back. I wince. Why the f**k did I ask her that?

She jerks the curtain back and glares at me. “Why do you want to go?”

I shrug and look everywhere but at her. “I just do.”

“Ten o’clock,” she says, and she jerks the curtain closed.

I want to pump my fist in the air because I feel like I finally won a battle with Friday. All this week has been one fight after another. She fights to pick up after Hayley. She does the dishes and the laundry when she knows I’m planning to do them. She made dinner for me and Hayley twice this past week. Even Sam liked it when he finally dragged his ass home.

I’m not used to having anyone take care of me, and I can’t figure out if I like it. I have been taking care of everybody around me for a long time, but Friday has come in like a steamroller and changed my whole f**king life.

“Hey,” I say. “I want to take you somewhere special with me.”

“Where?” she asks over the rush of the water.

“My dad used to take me to this old movie theater. It’s closed down now, but it’s my favorite place in the whole world. We would have to break in, but the last time I did it, the projector still worked. We would just have to turn it on.”

She sticks her head out of the curtain. “I’ve never heard you say anything nice about your dad before.”

I shrug. “It’s just a movie theater.”

“No, it’s not,” she calls back. “I guess we could go one day. Is it the one with the old ticket booth out front.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to go there.”

My heart warms. “Good.”

Her voice jerks me out of my thoughts. “Can you pass me a towel?” she asks.

I open the cabinet and get out the biggest and fluffiest one I can find. It must be hers, because none of what I have is this nice. She reaches around the curtain, her skinny little tatted arm waving impatiently at me. God, she makes me laugh.

That’s the best thing about Friday. She makes me laugh. I don’t know why, but just seeing her can get me out of a funk.

“Do you remember that guy who was at the shop last week when we were arguing?” I ask as she scrubs the towel over her hair. I can see it moving over the top of the shower curtain.

“Which time?”

I grin. We argue more than we agree, and I f**king love it. She’s the only person who ever tries to put me in my place. “When you cried and went into the bathroom.”

“Yes,” she says. She jerks the curtain back, and I realize that she’s wrapped the towel around her naked body and tucked the end of it between her br**sts. “Stop looking at my tits,” she says. But she smiles and shakes her head so I know I’m not really in trouble. “What about him?”

“He called me yesterday. He wants to come in and do a pilot for a reality TV show based on the shop.”

Her gaze jerks up to mine. I realize suddenly that she has the cutest little freckles across the bridge of her nose. I don’t usually get to see her without makeup on. I like it. I like it a lot. I drag my fingertip down the bridge of her nose.

She scrunches up her face. “Why would he want to do a show based on the shop?”

“Well, there are five of us and apparently people have a thing for tattoos right now. Not to mention that Emily is recording with Fallen from Zero and now Sam is being scouted by the NFL.” I look away.

“What else?”

I grin. “What makes you think there’s more?”

“Because you’re awful at evasion.”

“Well, they really like Matt’s blended family, and the work Reagan and Pete do with the boys in the prison program excites them.”

Her brows arch. “And?”

“And apparently they thought you and I had chemistry.”

She snorts. “Chemistry?”

“Chemistry,” I repeat.

She looks at me in the mirror as she runs a comb through her hair. “How do you feel about that?”

She reaches around me for the medicine cabinet. The front of her body grazes mine, and she steadies herself with a hand on my chest as she reaches for a bottle of lotion. She squirts it into her hands and raises one foot to rest on the top of the closed toilet lid.

“Paul,” she says, jerking me from… Where was I?

“What?” I ask.

“How do you feel about the reality show?”

I shrug. “It’s a lot of money.”

“How much?”

She lifts her other foot and starts to rub lotion up her other leg. “Paul,” she coaxes.

“Enough that they could all get a good start in life.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Would it help you?”

“That’s not important. I just want to see them all settled and happy.”

She nods and steps up onto her tiptoes, kisses my cheek really quickly, and then sinks back down onto her heels. “You should talk to them about it.”

I nod. “I will.” I let my eyes scan her face. “I like your freckles,” I say.