I roll my eyes. “Mom, it’s not even ring shaped. Give me my present back, please, before Garrett comes down and sees?—”
“I’m here,” he says, striding in from the kitchen. His hair is damp, and he’s wearing dark jeans and a faded t-shirt in his favourite colour, army green, but this one has some emerald notes, and he looks like a jacked Christmas elf. “What did I miss?”
My mom reaches into the box and holds up a?—
A dull buzzing starts in my ears as I immediately recognize the shape of what is in her hand. The length and width and curve anddecorationof?—
“What on earth is this?”
How can she not know?
I’m frozen.
“It’s like a tentacle,” she says. “It’s even got little suckers on it.”
I make an inhuman noise as Allan scoops up the toddlers and makes a loud promise of cinnamon buns for them in the kitchen.
“Not a tentacle,” Jules chokes out. “More of an eggplant.”
My dad mutters something about shovelling the front walk and leaves, not making eye contact with me, my mom, or Garrett, who is a similarly frozen statue of shame in the doorway.
“Eggplants don’t have polka dots, though?” My mom sounds so confused, and I can’t save her as she taps her index finger against the bright pink bumps that are in the exact same place as Garrett’s piercings.
Cassie laughs. “Mom, it’s adick.”
Mom drops it back into the box, and it starts vibrating. “I don’t understand.”
Mara snorts. “Carmie, you have three kids and your bed squeaks. Surely you understand.”
Garrett clears his throat, and nobody notices except me. He’s the last man standing in the room, and it’shisdick my mom was holding, but all he can do is clear his damn throat?
I glare at him and he shrugs.
Shrugs!
“Turn it off,” I mutter.
That, too, goes unnoticed.
Cassie leans over, grabs it, turns it off and waves it in front of my mom’s face. “Don’t let the purple colour confuse you. This is a dick?—”
“Stop saying dick,” I yell.
Okay, that was too loud.
“And these are piercings,” Cassie continues.
As one, Jules and Mara both swivel their heads to look at Garrett. Not at his ruddy cheeks or his narrowed gaze aimed pointedly at the ceiling, but lower than that.
“Don’t look at him,” I snap, standing up.
Mara’s eyebrows lift as she looks at me. “Is it accurate?”
“Yeah, he’s purple,” I say sarcastically. “Give me that.”
Cassie shakes her head. “Nope. We’ve scared all the men away. This is a safe space to talk about why Garrett is giving you a dildo.”
I choke on a furious, frustrated groan, and swat at her hand. She tosses it to Jules, who climbs up onto the couch, holding it high above my head.
