"See your mom before you go to sleep," I cut her off. "I understand that."

"Have you eaten dinner? We could make you something."

My stomach twists in alarm.

"No! I mean... No, I haven't eaten dinner. I'll make something after I drop your mom off at school."

"You will?" she says, a little edge to her voice.

"Yeah."

"Okay." She shrugs.

I hear the shower running upstairs.

"What's that you're working on?"

"Algebra Two. They put me in the advanced class," she says, frowning.

"Isn't that good?"

"I guess, but I'm not very good at math. I just got lucky on the test or something."

"How do you get lucky on the test? Did you guess all the answers?"

"Well, no, but-"

"You must be pretty smart then. Mind if I turn on the TV?"

She gives me an odd look and tosses me the remote. I flick the TV on and turn it down low, and start flipping channels. Rose has the basic TV package, of course. She can probably barely afford to have cable at all.

I settle on a cooking show and watch an Italian chef very quietly make breakfast (keeping the sound low so as not to disturb Karen, who appears deep in concentration) until Rose descends the stairs.

I can't help but lean over the back of the couch to watch her glide down the staircase. With her hair up she makes business casual look good. We have a new winner in the world's most fuckable librarian contest. She gives me a soft smile and shoulders her schoolbag.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

"He'll be back in a minute, kids," she says, smiling.

Rose is quiet on the way to the college and I don't break the silence. She looks a little sad somehow, and I can't tell if she's looking out the window or looking at her own reflection in the window.

We're almost there. I can't help it.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she says wistfully.

"I don't think you are."

She gives me a glance. God, she's pretty. She's not even trying to look sexy. It just comes naturally. A sidelong glance makes me want to pin her up against the wall and fuck her brains out.

"He's going to fire me," she says, very softly. "I can feel it."

A tear rolls down her cheek and she wipes it away, sniffs, and scrubs at her nose with a tissue.

Okay, Burt.

You and I need to have a conversation.

I touch her arm as we pull up to the door. "Hey," I say lamely. I'm not good at comforting people. They don't really cover that at murder school.

She smiles at me and touches my hand.

"Thanks for the ride. Don't let my kids burn the house down."

That brings a little smile to her face.

"I don't think you need to worry about that."

"Thank you for watching them. Half the time I'm so worried I can barely concentrate on my classes."

"What do you have tonight?"

"Business ethics. I'll text Karen when I'm done. No, wait, give me your number."

"I don't have a cell phone."

"What?"

She gives me an odd look.

"I don't." I shrug. "I don't really need one."

I can't give her my number. It would connect her to me, and I can't let that happen. I'm too involved with these people already. God, what the fuck are you doing, Quentin? I should move out tonight after...

...After I watch the kids, and pick her up.

Fuck.

She shrugs. "Okay, if you say so." But she doesn't sound very convinced.

Rose couldn't be safer in this town, in this place, but I find myself watching her walk inside and waiting until I spot her in the big windows over the stairwell before I drive off, back to the house. It takes about fifteen minutes to get back, and I have to knock on the door. Karen lets me in.

"What are we going to eat?"

I sigh. "Let me see what you've got."

Over the next ten minutes I end up going through all the cupboards, frowning. It's all canned shit and boxed shit and just general shit. She doesn't even have real cheese, just that yellow goop.

I frown, walk into the living room, and announce, "We're going shopping."

Karen looks up. "Uh, what?"

"Don't argue with me. Get in the car. You too, squirt." I point at Kelly.

She scowls at me. "My name is Kelly."

"Your name is whatever I say it is. Let's go. You have keys?"

Karen produces a house key, which she wears on a lanyard around her neck. After she locks the door they pile in the front seat of my car, with Kelly swinging her feet in the middle. I give them a look and the slip on their seat belts.

I throw her in gear and back out.

"Is this thing safe?" Kelly chirps.

I can't help it. I tromp on the gas and I'm going thirty-five by the time we hit the end of the street, and both girls are screaming. The brakes chirp at the stop sign, and I wheel the Impala around the corner hard, only slowing when I reach the front gate.

The guard gives me a bored look and waves us past. Do these people pay him a salary or something?

It's a short drive into town, to the grocery store. I glance at my watch; we have at least two and a half hours before it's time to go pick up Rose. I need something I can keep hot until she gets home; she didn't eat a real meal after she got off work. She must be starving.

Of course I kept her busy, so that's sort of my fault. Sort of.

Once I park, the girls pile out of the car.

"Stay with me," I snap.

"We're not like six years old." Karen rolls her eyes.

I give her a stern look. "Okay, we're not doofing around here. I know how women shop. We're not going to be standing around contemplating the mayonnaise. Follow orders, got it?"

They both nod, though Karen looks a little insulted.

"Squirt, push the cart."

Kelly scowls at me but yanks a cart out of the line. I don't care what she says, I can tell she gets a kick out of pushing it. Little kids are usually satisfied with stupid shit like that.

We go aisle by aisle. I tell Karen what to get while picking out a few things myself.

"I want chicken nuggets," Kelly declares, running for the frozen aisle.

I drag her back by the collar. "You want chicken nuggets, we'll have chicken nuggets. This way."

Our last stop is the meat and produce, then the dairy. I have the kids hold a spot in line while I grab a few things-Rose's kitchen is woefully lacking in tools. She didn't even have any meat thermometer or anything like that. I join the kids in line and show them how to stack everything on the belt to make it faster for the cashier to check us out.

In and out of the store in forty-five minutes. I let them split a Snickers in congratulations.

"I'm thirsty," Kelly whines, bits of chocolate stuck around her mouth.

"We'll be home in a second," I say.

I flinch a little. It rolls out of my mouth before I even think about it.

Calm down, Quent. It's been what, two days? I'm not going to be their dad. I haven't even finished inside their mom yet.

That was a little weird, Quent. Moving on.

Once we're back at the house I put Kelly on storage detail, sorting and putting away the food we bought, while I carry it in and Karen follows my instructions to start dinner. It takes a little longer than I'd like, since I have to carry in the groceries myself. We bought two carts full of stuff and filled up the trunk of my Impala, no mean feat.

Once everything is put away I order the girls to drink glasses of milk while I heat oil and start working on the chicken nuggets. I trim and cut the meat I bought while I tell Karen how to make a cheap, quick breading from powdered biscuit mix.

"Why am I doing this?" she asks as she whisks up some eggs and a teaspoon of milk.

"It makes the coating stick."

"Why does it have all that pepper in it? Won't it be hot?"

"Not really. It'll make it taste like something."

"The oil is bubbling."

I check the setting on the stove. It needs to heat a bit more.

"I want mac and cheese," Kelly almost shouts. "You have to have mac and cheese with chicken nuggets."

Karen starts to pull a box of mac and cheese mix from the cupboard.

"Put that shit away. We're going to have real macaroni and cheese. Karen, help Kelly with it. I'll tell you what to do."

It's not the best recipe-I'd rather bake it and put a bread crumb crust on it, but there's no time for that so I have them start a basic white sauce while a box of elbow macaroni boils behind it.

"Drain the macaroni," I tell Karen.

"It's not done yet. It's only been six minutes."

I roll my eyes. "It'll cook a little in the sauce. If you cook it all the way it'll turn into mush. Just do as I told you."

She huffs and shrugs, and mixes the pasta into the sauce. I have Kelly mix up a bowl of shredded cheese from the bags I bought then dump it in the pot and stir it up. She's ten years old or something, she likes stirring.

"Keep going," I tell her.

I reach over and turn that pot down and start dropping the breaded nuggets in the bubbling olive oil. It foams up a bit and Kelly sucks in a breath, but I give her a wink and a nod and she shifts on her feet, watching.

"What did you heat up the oven for?"

"Keep them warm while the next batch cooks."