I had to get on making amends. I had to be certain, in my way, to make sure Sadie knew she was part of the family.
She seemed to be getting there.
But I’d sensed she wasn’t there entirely.
And tonight proved I was right.
On that thought, a knock came at my door.
I looked to the door. I didn’t want to get it. I had no cases brewing. I’d cleared the slate when Sadie’s shit hit so I could focus on that.
However, since I’d gotten home that night, my phone had been ringing. All the calls were from the Rock Chicks to natter about what happened and what we were going to do next about Sadie. So once I got the “all’s good” with Sadie, I’d turned off my ringer.
Now someone was at my door.
I knew one thing. Behind that door was not a Rock Chick. They all had their Hot Bunch boys at home and it was past bedtime. They would be nowhere near my door.
So it was probably someone who needed me.
I wished I had an office with a hotline. This hitting my pad business, interrupting me while I was sitting on my ass in a sexy dress in a dark apartment evaluating my life was not working for me. Not that that happened all the time, but once was enough.
The knock came again, and when I gave it time and there was more knocking, I knew they weren’t going to let up. So it would seem I had to haul my ass off the floor and tell them to take a hike.
This, I did.
Except when I got to the peephole, I saw Ren out there.
He wasn’t looking down the hall this time. He was looking at the doorknob as if he expected to hear the locks turning.
Fuck.
I pulled away from the peephole and rested my forehead against the door.
He knocked again.
Fuck!
Okay, I was Ally Nightingale. I figured whatever this was wasn’t going to be a lot of fun, but I didn’t shy away from anything.
Sucking in breath, I unlocked the door and opened it.
Ren stood there in all his glory.
I swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged my throat and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t look good after Sadie’s thing, honey,” he answered.
I didn’t look good because I wasn’t good.
And he’d noticed and done something about it.
Why couldn’t he be a dick?
I mean, seriously.
I didn’t ask that.
I asked, “Where’s your date?”