parents and Baxter weren’t monsters. They loved him, and they were good people. But they worried about him. Too much. And he knew that kind of worry could make people take drastic measures.
Gray reached across the counter for the stupid bottle, cracked open the lid, and popped a pill in his mouth.
He swallowed. “There. Happy?”
Baxter leaned back against Gray’s fridge and tucked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans, smirking. “For now.”
Chapter Three
“So, nothing yet?” Brooke asked as they raced across St. Mary to the chirp of the crosswalk alarm.
“Nothing.” Meredith sighed. She had six minutes before her Human Anatomy Physiology lecture started, and she wanted to claim a decent spot in the auditorium, but she also wanted to commiserate with her friend. “I filled out applications in three stores yesterday. Whole Foods wants me to be able to close at eleven. Drug Emporium — which is the closest — said they’re looking for someone to open the store at six in the morning, and Albertson’s told me they just filled the position, but they’d keep my application on file.”
Brooke gave her a sympathetic look as they approached the entrance to Wharton Hall. “You’ll find something,” she said.
“As long that happens before Jamie gets back.” Meredith hugged her friend, said goodbye, and dashed inside Wharton. She found a seat in the second row surrounded by other nursing students who’d been in her organic chem class last semester. She told a few of them hello and got out her notebook and pen.
It wasn’t just that she wanted to be too busy for Jamie to harass when he came home — restless and horny after three weeks offshore. She also didn’t want him to think she was relying on him to take care of her. Of course, she relied on him to put a roof over her head — for now — but Meredith paid for her own clothes, her own birth control pills, her own gas and insurance, and all of the school expenses that Louisiana’s TOPS program didn’t cover. Jamie’s insurance took care of Oscar, but Meredith insisted on meeting all the co-pays for his check-ups and shots.
After putting what she could in savings, she didn’t have much else, but her small income let Jamie know she had her independence. And her independence — her autonomy — was a shield. The more desperate Jamie thought she was, the more often he’d want to talk about getting married. That wasn’t going to happen whether she was unemployed or not, but Jamie didn’t see it the same way. Her vulnerability was his opportunity.
So Meredith needed a job — and fast. But it had to be the right job. Waiting tables could earn her more money in tips, but with her school schedule, she’d be expected to close. Depending on where she worked, that might put her home at midnight, and Meredith didn’t want that. Even though Oscar went down at eight, and she almost always missed his bedtime, their special time was right at dawn.
Her baby would wake up just as the sun came through the blinds, and he’d crawl to Meredith and draw her from sleep by snuggling close. Smiling with his golden curls sticking up like a halo, Oscar was almost always happy in the morning. They’d read picture books — Good Dog, Carl was his current favorite — and sing songs in bed for a few minutes, but they’d be up and about by six-thirty. Meredith would change Oscar’s diaper, get them both dressed, make him a sippy cup of warm milk, and they’d head out with the stroller for an early walk.
Every morning, Oscar pointed to birds and talked to the dogs they passed along the way. Meredith would greet their neighbors, who always smiled and told Oscar hello. It was peaceful. It was joyful. And it was totally theirs.
It wasn’t much, but their mornings were the best part of her day, and if she took a job that made her work late, she’d be too exhausted to enjoy them.
Her anatomy professor walked in and saved Meredith from these depressing thoughts when she projected the course syllabus on the auditorium screen before launching into “Topic I: The Human Body — An Orientation.”
An hour and a half later, Meredith made her way to the lobby of Wharton. She had less than fifteen minutes to get across campus to Mouton Hall for her General Psychology class, but before she pushed through Wharton’s double doors, her eye caught on an