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"Then your mom…" she says.

"I haven’t seen my mom in twenty-two years."

I’m not sure why I thought hockey tickets would help a woman who’s angry at me because of hockey. I’m usually better at talking to women than this. Apparently, that stops being true when one of them has every reason to tell me to fuck off.

"I–I didn’t know."

The last thing I want is for Baylor to feel sorry for me. My mom walked out on me and my dad when I was six. Ran off with my dad's auto shop manager.

The last thing I heard her say as my dad begged her to stay at midnight while I was supposed to be asleep in my room was "You pushed me into marriage too soon, and I never wanted to be a mother. It ruined everything."

Maybe Baylor’s right… Maybe I do ruin everything.

"The tickets will be there if you change your mind." I glance around at the damage that one night and a bathtub full of drunk idiots can do before I decide that it’s time to get out of her way. "Do you need help with anything?"

"I need to call Ellie. And the people I refunded this morning. And the insurance company, who wants pictures and a list of everything I had on the counter." She puts another packet on the towel. "Nothing that you can help with."

"Okay."

I take my phone out to check the message from Ronny. Dan needs me upstairs to explain which parts of the hallway were wet. I type back that I’m coming.

I pull the envelope from the front pocket of my hoodie. There’s a dry spot on the island beside her box of supplies. I set it there.

"What’s that?" she asks, looking at the envelope.

"I looked up your prices. Nine dozen cupcakes, five dozen cake pops, and the prep you lost for the birthday party and baby shower. That should cover it. Plus a tip."

She looks from the envelope to me. "Wolf, you didn’t have to—"

"Yeah. I did."

She looks up at me, and the tight line between her eyebrows eases. It’s the first time this morning she hasn’t looked ready to choke me out with those tiny hands of hers.

"That’s for what you lost," I say. "If I missed anything, tell me."

She nods, still looking at me.

"And the kitchen offer… It's an open invitation. I know you don’t want it, but it’s yours… Anytime."

I don’t wait for her to answer. She’s already said no. Six weeks is a long time when she has orders to fill and nowhere to bake, but she needs to decide whether putting up with me is worth it. I’ve made the offer. Asking again isn’t going to improve it.

At least she knows where to find me.

Upstairs, Dan and Ronny discuss the guest bathroom. Dan points to the bottom of the vanity.

"We’ll have to pull that out and check behind it. The flooring too. Once we know how far the water went, I can give you an estimate."

"Whatever it needs," I say.

The living room smells like spilled beer, and somebody has left a bra on the arm of my couch.

I turn back to Dan. "That person you know who handles kitchen approvals. Can you ask about an emergency inspection? Or a temporary arrangement while hers is repaired? I’ll cover the application fees."

"I’ll ask what they need," he says. "Sometimes a cancellation opens up."

"Let me know. I’ll have everything ready."

He nods. "I’ll make a call."