I take a moment to imagine a golden retriever, running through Clara’s back yard, my panties held aloft in its jaw.
“I probably should have found them, but I was kinda panicking,” I admit. “They’re there somewhere, right? Oh, God, tell me Rusty won’t find them.”
“Daniel is very responsible,” Elizabeth assures me. “He’s probably found them already. He does his own laundry, right? Tell me his mom doesn’t still do it.”
I just shake my head as the waitress comes over and delivers us food: an egg sandwich for Elizabeth, a breakfast burrito for me.
“He’s twenty-nine,” I say.
“That doesn’t guarantee shit,” she says, mouth full. “There are some man-children out there, Charlie. Years ago, before Jeff and I got married, I dated a guy whose mom packed him lunch every day at thirty-one. He had to go by her house on the way to work. How that was easier than just making his own lunch I’ll never know, but I broke up with him when he told me that.”
I dump hot sauce on the burrito and take a big bite, suddenly starving after not eating much but cake in the last twenty-four hours.
After a moment, she nods at my burrito.
“It about that size?” she asks, pure mischief in her eyes.
“What?” I ask, my mouth full.
“His dick,” she says, like it’s perfectly normal thing to ask.
I nearly spit my burrito out.
“You teach children with that mouth?” I hiss once I swallow.
“No, I swap it out for an appropriate one, like Mr. Potato Head,” she says calmly. “This is my getting-breakfast-with-my-sister-after-she-finally-fucked-a-guy mouth. Also, last time you had a boyfriend, you were way more forthcoming.”
“That was like two years ago, and also, you got me drunk,” I say. “Besides, you know Daniel, I can’t just tell you about his dick.”
“I’m just wondering if it runs in the family,” she says calmly.
I’ve got my mouth open for another burrito bite, and I freeze that way.
“See? I can fuck with you, too,” she says, and takes a bite of her sandwich, then takes her sweet time chewing it. I narrow my eyes, waiting. She’s the same age as Levi, but there’s definitely no way, right?
I’d know, right?
“I went for drinks with some of the other teachers a few months ago,” she finally explains. “Did I ever tell you about Jennifer? Super sweet girl, new to town, teaches first grade?”
Things click into place.
“Seth?” I ask, and Elizabeth nods.
“Really nice, total oversharer,” she says. “Very enthusiastic about her fling with Daniel’s little brother. Great dick, apparently.”
I make a face at my burrito, because I like Seth a lot but really don’t want to know about his dick. I’m aware that it’s well-traveled, and frankly, that’s more than enough information.
“I thought he swore off girls in town,” I say.
For the record, I didn’t really think that Elizabeth had first-hand knowledge of a Loveless dick, but she did still scare the hell out of me.
“Yeah, but Jennifer’s really cute,” she says, licking egg off a finger. “And apparently a little bit of a freak. Besides, did anyone believe that?”
She waggles her eyebrows, and I snort.
“She didn’t get his name tattooed anywhere, did she?” I ask, and Elizabeth laughs.
“No, she seemed pretty clear that they weren’t a thing,” she says. “At least he’s getting better at choosing, right?”
“Right,” I agree.
“You have to tell me something about last night,” she says. “I got you that burrito. And coffee.”
“I thought that was from the kindness of your heart,” I tease, taking another bite.
“You’ve got me confused with some other sister,” Elizabeth says, her mouth full. “That’s a bribery burrito.”
“I had a nice time,” I say, deliberately baiting her.
“A very nice time?” she asks, grinning, both eyebrows raised.
“A very nice time twice,” I admit, heat rushing to my face.
“Hell yes,” Elizabeth says. “I knew Daniel was a gentleman.”Chapter Twenty-OneDaniel“Dance your butt off,” I tell Rusty, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
She giggles.
“Then what will I sit on?” she says. “Dad, I need my butt.”
“Then don’t dance it all the way off,” I tease. “See you in an hour, kiddo.”
Before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s scampering through the door and into her dance studio, where she lines up with six other little girls, all wearing black leotards, pink tights, and high buns.
I’m very, very proud of my bun abilities. I’ve impressed many a dance mom by putting Rusty’s hair up in less time than it takes to say pirouette. I’ve even been hit on as a direct result of being able to twist a seven-year-old’s hair into that shape.
Not today, though. Today I nod at the dance moms and then I’m out the door of the studio in record time, walking toward Charlie’s apartment as fast as I can possibly go.
I want to be the only thing on her mind. I’ve been sending her innocent-but-teasing texts all day, imagining her pushing up her goggles, reaching for her phone, blushing when she reads it. I’ve spent the day wondering what she’s wearing underneath her coveralls, or if when it’s hot like this, she wears anything at all.