Page 37 of Out of the Blue

His eyes stray to the counter. “Flan?”

I glance at the half-eaten dessert. Shrugging, I reply, “Never can resist.”

Trent picks up the plate and feeds me the rest, wiping a stray crumb off my lip. He offers me a grin and grabs my hands. “Let’s go sit on the sofa and talk.”

We need to discuss Maurice. And Braxton. In other words,get your head out of your ass and do your job. Sighing, I pick up our coffees and follow him into the living room.

He sits on the navy-blue sofa and pats the cushion next to him. I place our cups on the coffee table and look into his mesmerizing eyes. Stalling for time, I take off my knee-high boots and slide one foot under me as I sit. Pursing my lips, I rub them together, comforted by the silkiness of my lip gloss. He reaches over and captures my bottom lip. “Stop. Talk to me.”

“Tell me about Maurice’s vision problems.”

His eyes widen as if I asked an unexpected question. Don’t know why—TLR’s marketing is myjob.

Trent gives me a quick sketch of Maurice’s eyesight issues through the years. I ask, “So his red eye is new?”

“Yeah. His eye doctor diagnosed him with some condition starting with ‘epi,’ and prescribed Prednisone. It’s pretty common and won’t interfere with his vision at all—not a big deal.”

His explanation goes along with what I remember Maurice saying at the club. “That’s good.” I pull up the article and skim it again. “I think this is all based on the fact he wears glasses, and his eye has been red lately.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I think the best offense here is going with a bigger story.”

As the color drains from his face, I capture his hands in mine. “Not that. Never that.” How could he think I would use his parentage in such an awful way?

He deflates. “Sorry. I know you’d never suggest telling the world about my sperm donor.”

I wince at his word choice. However apt. “I have a couple of things I’m thinking about, but I’m waiting to hear back from Mr. Hewitt.”

“I believe in you.”

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, even as his unexpected praise warms me. My eyes travel back to my laptop.

He follows my line of vision. “What’s eating at you, besides TLR?”

Dare I share my mother’s call with him? He did let me read his mother’s diary after all. And I already told him about Juanita’s tuition and my credit card bills. My eyes bore into his expressive ones, now sporting concern. My chest rises and falls. “You can probably guess what I’m about to say. More money issues.”

“Let me help.”

This is the second time he’s offered, and the second time I’ll say no. I need to do this on my own, although it’s a tempting offer. “No.” I reposition myself on the sofa, farther away from him. I grab my coffee.

He places his palm on my knee. With a half-smile, he admits, “Knew you’d turn me down. Fine. Let’s hash this out together, okay? It’s your sister’s tuition and your credit card bills, right?”

My shoulders droop. “Yeah. Neither of these are my fault, but they’re both my problem. Mamá called me while you were sleeping.”

He squeezes my knee, releasing it and moving his palm to rest on my thigh. “What did your mother say?”

I stare straight ahead at the blank wall. Mechanically, my hand raises and I sip my now-tepid brew. I replace it on the table. When he rubs my leg, I begin, “The school wants their money so Juanita can start classes next week. And bill collectors are calling my mother at home about the credit card debt.” I push my hair off my face. “If only my stupid mother hadn’t lost the tuition, and my ex hadn’t run up my cards.”

He pats my thigh, and I start counting the colors in the boring painting across from me. He lowers his voice. “Money issues were a very common occurrence when I was growing up. We did a lot ofrearranging, as Mom used to call it. Here, the school deadline is the most important thing. We”—I give him a dirty look so he wisely rephrases—“You should contact them first with a payment plan. How much do you have saved up?”

“A thousand,” I mumble.

“Great! Tell them you can Venmo them the whole amount today, followed up by another, say, a couple hundred every other week until her tuition is paid off.”

“But they said they want the whole thing, or my sister can’t go to school.” My voice is tiny, but with an underlying steel of determination. I have to fight my way out of this financial mess.

“I understand that’s what they want. They’ll have to take what you’re offering or go without totally. And no one wants to lose out on five G’s. Even if it’s delayed.”

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