Footsteps Read Free

her cheek.
     
    “I guess. Not my thing. You know that.” He
shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his shoes.
     
    “What is your thing, exactly?”
     
    “This weekend is closer to it. You sure you
don’t want to join us?”
     
    “Nope. I have plans with Paul.”
     
    “Paul is…wait, don’t tell me…he’s the
teacher?”
     
    “Yep. Fifth grade. I like him.”
     
    “Well, good then. How’s my boy?” Natalie had
been Trey’s nanny from even before Jenny had run off. Since then,
though, she’d practically moved in.
     
    “Impish as ever. Over dinner, I got a long
story about sharks in the waters off the coast. He was told about
this by his Uncle Joey, of course. I think the thought of maybe
getting eaten by Jaws made him more excited about the
weekend, not less.”
     
    Carlo laughed. Trey would be four at the end
of the summer. He was hyper-verbal and completely fearless. He kept
Carlo and Nat on their toes nonstop.
     
    “Elsa had her walk?”
     
    Natalie gave him an affectionately irritated
look. “No. I made her hang her furry thunder-butt over the balcony
and drop her load on Mrs. Murphy’s potted plants down below. Of
course she’s had her walk.”
     
    Laughing harder, he bent down and kissed
Nat’s round cheek again. “Thanks for tonight.” Normally, Carlo was
home in the evenings, and Nat could go out and live her own
life.
     
    “Of course. I’ll see you when you get
back.”
     
    “Yep. Have fun with your teacher.”
     
    She turned and gave him a saucy wink. “Oh, I
plan to.”
     
    After Natalie left, Carlo stripped off his
socks, his fancy shirt, and then his plain white t-shirt. Barefoot
and bare-chested, he took a deep breath and imagined the black-tie
chains falling away. He went to the fridge and got himself a beer,
then walked across the wide room to the sliding doors that led to
the balcony.
     
    His building was perched on the banks of the
Providence River, and he had a great view of the city from out
here. The night had picked up a coastal chill off the bay, but to
Carlo the cool over his bare skin felt cleansing.
     
    His mood was dark, bordering on black. The
whole night had been a trial. He was not good at being randomly
friendly to strangers, and he was worse at being friendly to
assholes because they had something he wanted. He felt downright
dirty about that. But he’d wanted to go out on his own. He’d wanted
to free himself of the corporate prison and do things his way. He’d
convinced Pete to jump with him. And now they needed to find a way
to make their way. Designing beautiful buildings was only
worthwhile if somebody then wanted to build them.
     
    And he had a son to take care of.
     
    Maybe he should have done what his father
had wanted—still wanted. Maybe he should have stayed in Quiet Cove
and taken over Pagano & Sons Construction. Security.
Stability.
     
    But that was fraught, too. The strings that
came with Pagano & Sons had nasty barbs on the ends. What he
wanted was not to be beholden, not to anyone.
     
    So he’d find a way to make nice with
highborn lowlifes like Anderson Temple. And James Auberon. And try
to tell himself that he wasn’t getting tied up in their
strings.
     
    Though a man who beat his wife was the worst
kind of man, and Carlo had a pretty clear picture now of James
Auberon, Community Paragon, as that kind of man. How the fuck was
he supposed to make nice with that?
     
    Auberon had known his name. Well, it was a
well-known name in Providence. In all the Northeast, really. He
hadn’t had much to do with that notoriety personally. In fact, it
was a hindrance at least half the time. But Carlo supposed it could
be good for business if James Auberon respected his family
name.
     
    He stepped back into the loft and closed the
slider. After he tossed his empty beer bottle, feeling cooler and
freer, but no brighter, he went down the short hall and opened the
door to Trey’s room.
     
    His son was sleeping, rolled up into a