“Ten K a week is fine. Do we have a deal?” “You’re going to need to build some things around here.” Dylan glanced at the room. “Grav’s toddler bed, some bookshelves, stuff like that.” “That’s not gonna be an issue.” My father was a handyman—building shit was no biggie for me. “What else?” The child popped her head in from the hallway, grinning. “Mommy, can I make a fort with the pillows?”
