Sparrow - L.J. Shen Page 0,32

whole army, and not a small one either. But cooking was therapeutic, and I needed a way to distract myself from my reality. From him.

“I don’t have an evening gown,” I grumbled, pivoting to the oven and taking out the coconut pies. I only had one little black dress in my closet. I wore it to weddings, funerals and I was planning to wear it to my first-ever date tonight. Anything in-between didn’t require fancy attire. In my opinion anyway.

“Too late to go buy,” she barked at me, disappointed with my inability to follow simple instructions from my husband. “What do you do? Mr. Brennan will be mad!”

“He’s always mad.”

Maria let out an exasperated sigh and turned around, fishing her cell phone out of her apron. She pressed the phone to her ear and shot me an annoyed glare. When the person on the other line answered, she started talking to them animatedly in Spanish. I wiped my hands on my pants, mildly interested in this turn of events.

Finally, after a few minutes, she hung up on the person and wiggled her finger at me. “My daughter will give you nice dress. She your size. But you no dirty it and you give back after dry clean. Comprende?”

I nodded, a little shocked and a lot relieved. I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why she’d want to help me. Either way, I was glad Brennan would see me in something presentable and perhaps give me this job.

“Thanks, I guess.” I followed her movements as she began cleaning up after me.

“You,” she said furiously, scrubbing pans and shielding me away from helping her with her shoulder, “are little girl. He,” she continued, pointing upstairs with her chin to where the bedroom was, “a big, powerful man. You no annoying him, or he dump your ass.”

I couldn’t help but break into a laugh. “Dump your ass” was just about the funniest thing Maria had ever said to me.

I shook my head and walked to her, pouting my apology. “You’re right. And please don’t clean after me. I can do this myself.” I carefully tried to pry a dirty pan from her hand.

She rolled her eyes and elbowed me away. “Let me clean, silly girl.”

I packed up all the food that I'd made and dispatched it to the homeless shelter, via a taxi and a big tip from Connor, who refused to let me deliver it myself.

I didn’t get to meet Maria’s daughter. She left the cocktail dress for Connor to pick up in the lobby along with a pair of high heels while I was in the shower. Those, too, were exactly my size. When I walked into the bedroom, the gown was already laid out on Troy’s big bed. It was a peach-colored and sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline and a thin gold belt.

At 7:45, I zipped it on me, added some makeup (not too much, just a little mascara and lip gloss to cover up my freckles and hours of self-pity) and rode the elevator down to the lobby.

Not to my surprise, Troy was late. I texted Lucy and Daisy while sitting in one of the creamy leather chairs, waiting for him. A sudden urge to wrap myself up in familiarity, in their friendship, gripped me. Plus, it was evident they were more than a little suspicious about my sudden disappearance from our neighborhood.

Me: Hey, girls, want to have drinks next week?

Lucy: You tell us.

Me: ?

Daisy: Stopped by your house. Your dad said something about you moving out. What’re you hiding, Birdie?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Guess the reassuring messages I’d sent my friends hadn’t really make the impact I was hoping for.

Me: You must have misunderstood. I’m not hiding anything. Just busy. My interview is in a few minutes, btw.

Lucy: You worked at a diner and take cooking classes. Now all of a sudden, you have a job interview at Rouge Bis? One to ten, how stupid do you think we are?

Me: Mmm…5?

Me again: Kidding. Look, I can explain.

No, I couldn’t. And that was the worst part. I knew they’d find out eventually, but I didn’t want to deal.

Daisy: You better. We’ll be waiting for you our usual spot. Good luck with the interview.

I was about to fire Lucy and Daisy another message when I heard footfalls and my eyes shot up from my cell. I recognized his walk. It was elegant, self-assured and claimed the space he’d just entered. He wore a pale gray suit that somehow