“No, sweetheart. I’m sure you got a lot of other things you’d rather be doing than spending time with your old man.”
He was right.
Still, it felt weird to be let off the hook like that.
Though, it seemed meeting Axl had had an interesting effect on my father.
I just wondered if that would continue to develop, how it would, and if whatever that was, was good, and finally, if that would last.
On the way home from Dad’s, I got a call from Axl whereupon, immediately after exchanging greetings, he asked, “After you work, yours or mine, baby?”
First, I loved, even though I was no longer staying with him, that didn’t mean I didn’t get to sleep beside him.
Second, I wanted him to fuck me in my bed.
“Mine.”
“Right. Text me when you’re on your way home from Smithie’s. I’ll meet there.”
“I’ll give you a key tomorrow.”
“Cool, beautiful.”
A week and a day together, we each had the other’s keys.
I thought that was seriously, freaking rad.
After I got home from work, Axl meeting me at my place then fucking me quick and hard (and the usual fantastic) before we both passed out was even more seriously, freaking rad.
Axl was gone before I even got out of bed in the morning on Thursday (also stuck in a post-fuck haze, that said, his day started super early, he was always out the door before seven, sometimes earlier than that, and I wasn’t usually out of bed until nine, earliest, more often closing on ten).
But when I finally pulled myself out of bed and got down to loading up the Smeg, I opened up the fridge and saw my lonely, woeful salted caramel creamer and kicked myself for not hitting the grocery store on the way from Dad’s after my phone conversation with Axl.
I rectified that yesterday (we now had white chocolate mocha, cinnamon, vanilla, toffeenut and the aforementioned salted caramel).
And he’d noticed.
Rounding that out, Thursday included Dad calling me and saying he was good on his own.
Which prompted a short conversation that he did not get impatient with (first shocker), that included me asking if everything was all right with him (he assured me it was). If he was taking care of his health (he assured me of that too, second shocker, because he sounded like he wasn’t lying). And if we were all right.
“It’s just that meeting your man made me realize I lean on you too much,” he’d said to that last (third shocker). “I love to see you, Hattie, but you’re a young woman. The last thing you need is to be spending every night with your father.”
He was right about that.
It was still a shock.
Thus Thursday also included me calling Mom to share not only this turn of events, but belatedly share that I was seeing someone, I really liked him, and it’d be good if we all found a time to sit down together.
She’d been wary of Dad, “He’s pulling his usual stuff, Hattie, don’t fall for it,” and ecstatic about Axl, “I can’t wait to meet him! We’ll fix a time!”
Though, the second seemed weird and forced. However, not forced in the fact she was excited I was seeing someone I really liked, but the fix-the-time part.
Which was something to think on, though not at that time push her about.
Because Mom had had a few years of being in what, at times, I worried was a concerning funk, but the last couple of years, she seemed to be moving on from it.
But she never didn’t want to see me.
I didn’t like that and put it on my mental agenda to give her time and deal with it later.
Thursday also included me talking all this through with Axl after he took me out for our second date, Mexican at Blue Bonnet.
Axl concurred with Mom about being wary of Dad, and since he’d never met her, “Got no take, baby, but I’m lookin’ forward to meeting her.”
He also drove me to work, because he intended to stay for the show, and hang with me during my free times, because, “It’d suck, date two ended at eight o’clock.”
I mean, for heaven’s sake.
Was this guy awesome or what?
Which brought us to now.
Back at my place.
And Axl had discovered the creamer.
He hadn’t filled his drawer (though I’d shown it to him, and the slow smile was so worth the struggle of trying to make space for him—what could I say, I liked clothes and I had a walk-in, but it wasn’t Kardashian level).
I hadn’t filled the drawers he’d cleared for me.
But this was real.
It was happening.
And all those things I’d discovered about him that first day in his house were panning out.
We were compatible.
Like, crazy compatible.
He hung up his towel.
I did too.
He rinsed his whiskers from the sink (he’d brought over a razor, and shave cream).