Push

13. She Argued Her Case

GWEN

The doorbell rang.

I was hunched over, hopping on one foot, struggling to sling on a black stiletto, but I still made it down the hallway in record time. I hauled open the front door.

The second I saw Toby's face, I regretted asking him to come over. Six in the morning, and he was positively beaming. The man loved being useful. And there was no better way for him to feel useful than being almost the last person I called to look after Noah for the day.

The actual winner for last place went to Toby's mother. Hell would freeze over before I asked for that woman's help.

"Morning, Gw—" Toby's words died in his throat.

His eyes raked over me head to toe, noticing my neatly knotted bun, the expensive silk blouse, and the charcoal suit. It was only thanks to shapewear that I was able to squeeze my ass back into the pencil skirt. Toby's eyes seemed to stop on the black stiletto on my foot. He blinked. He always liked the heels.

His brows furrowed. "You going somewhere special?"

Duh. "Yes." I was tempted to leave him sweating with that confused look on his face, but he needed to know. "I have job interviews lined up all morning."

The crease between his brows only furrowed deeper. "Job interviews?"

"Yeah, you know... To get a job? Earn money?" I slipped on my other stiletto. I still wasn't at eye level with Toby, but somehow, I felt ten feet tall wearing my old work clothes. "Bills don't get paid with thin air."

"No, they don't, but—"

"But nothing."

"But." Toby's tone was more insistent. "You don't need to pay the bills. I can pay them. You said you wanted to stay home with our little dude until he was at least one." He cocked his head to the side. "Do you still want that?"

"Things have changed."

"They have, but that wasn't my question, Gwen. I'm asking what you want—for Noah and you."

"I want a husband who doesn't turn out to be a dirty dog."

Toby scrubbed a hand over his chin but didn't bite back. "I know all my fuckups have ruined our plans, but just answer me this one question. Please. Is getting a job again so soon what you want?" His eyebrows raised, questioning me. "You haven't worked since—"

"Don't you dare." My fists balled at my sides. "You just couldn't wait to take a shot at me about me not working, could you?"

"I wasn't taking a shot." Toby's shoulders pushed back. Getting ready. He knew as well as I did the fight was coming. "I'm just trying to understand—"

"How could you ever understand?"

"I can't! I can't understand because you shut me out! Every damn time, Gwen! If we could just talk about what happened—"

My snort of frustration cut off his words. I folded my arms defensively across my chest. "Bit late for you to suddenly start caring now, don't you think?"

"That's not fair, and you know it." Toby's laugh was almost sad. "I told you we could fight those bastards if that's what you wanted. Your boss should've treated you right when you told him you were pregnant. He pushed you into a corner and forced you to choose between impossible options. Get fired or quit? What the fuck was that? That whole deal was shonky as shit. I knew you shouldn't have signed it." Toby drove a hand through his hair. "We should have fought."