“I’m disappointed, young man.”
Slightly taken aback by the sternness in her tone, I blinked a few times. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s been as quiet over here as ever.” She leaned closer and cupped her hand over her mouth. “I would know; I’ve not gone a single night without my hearing aids. Would you like me to give you some pointers? I have a wonderful book explaining all about the woman’s body and where to find that elusive spot that just makes us melt.”
“No tha—”
“You see,” she went on as if I hadn’t said a thing, diving headfirst into a very detailed description ofthatspot. She even used her hands to demonstrate.
I tried to stop her, but the woman went on and on, completely ignoring my waving hands and the mortification on my face.
“...and that is what we call squirting.”
Fuck my life.
An eighty-something-year-old woman did not just explain fucking squirting to me.
“I’ll…uh…” My cheeks burned. Pretty sure the tips of my ears were red too. “Thanks for that, Mrs. Ross.” I stepped backward and hoped she’d get the message.
She didn’t.
Instead, she pushed onto her toes and patted my cheek. “I’m sure Kate will be thanking me too. Havefuuun.” After a quick wiggle of her bony fingers, she was finally gone.
I’d never locked a door so fast in my life.
Releasing a long breath, I headed farther into the apartment. Weird how this morning felt like a million hours ago. Like two lifetimes had passed between then and now. I never thought clarity or certainty could come as fast as it had.
With a smile tugging on my lips, I ventured toward the coffee table in the middle of the living room. Papers I hadn’t noticed before littered the glass surface. Mostly because the last time I’d been in this room, I’d been so worked up over Kate shutting down.
Shaking my head, I spread the printouts more evenly to inspect them individually. Every piece of paper featured a house. Some big, some smaller, but all of them had a yard.
“Kate says she’s going to buy us a place with a big yard and a pool one day.”
I jerked at the suddenness of Millie’s voice. Joining me at the table, she clutched her pancake plushie under her arm and inspected the images.
“That sounds nice.”
“I just want a swing.” Her eyes met mine. Big and green, they shone with so much hope.“Do you have a swing at your place?”
Flattening my lips, I shook my head. “Sorry, princess, I don’t. But there is a pool.” There were two, actually. One on the roof and another in the gym. I’d happily take her to either.
“That’s okay,” she breathed out. She couldn’t hide her disappointment, even if she wanted to. “I can swing on Sunday when we go to Grammy and Gramps’s.”
“You like swinging more than swimming?”
Head bobbing, she said, “Yes. When I go high on the swing, it feels like I’m flying.” Then she added in a softer tone, “Water is scary.”
I tried to think of the things I liked when I was her age, but I came up short. I was in the pool a lot. Not because it was fun, my parents had insisted I learn to swim as early as possible.
When I’d mastered that, they’d moved on to instruments and whatever else I might’ve needed to make them look good.
Not once had they asked if I’d enjoyed any of the extracurricular activities they’d enrolled me in. They didn’t even care to know what interested me.
I’d never let my girl experience that kind of rejection.
My girl.
Yeah, Kate might not have accepted it yet, but they were mine. Both of them.
