It feels like the only normal thing I’ve done in the last twenty-four hours.
When I get to my parents’ place, I follow the hammering sounds around the side of the house and into the backyard. There’s Dad, knee on the grass, hammer in hand, knocking wooden planks together like he’s building a one-man ark.
I wait until he sits back on his heels before I speak.
“Dad.”
He jolts so hard the hammer nearly slips from his hand. “Jesus!” He glares. “You scared me.”
I laugh. “The door wasn’t latched. Not like she’s helping.”
I nod toward Mabel, their golden retriever, stretched out beside him sunbathing.
“Hey,” Dad says immediately, pointing a finger. “Don’t you talk that way about your elders.”
I wave him off and drop down beside the old girl, running a hand through her fur. She thumps her tail once but doesn’t lifther head. She’s slower now, more white than golden. It hits me harder than I expect.
I don’t say it out loud, Dad would throw the hammer at my head, but it might be time to start thinking about how we’ll explain heaven and death to Milo.
That’s the worst part of loving animals I guess: they leave long before you’re done loving them.
Dad lowers himself onto the other side of Mabel with a groan. I hand him the bakery bag and set the coffee beside his leg.
He opens the bag, sees the no-sugar donut, and immediately makes a face. Then he hands me mine likeI’mthe picky one.
I take a huge bite just to annoy him. “So,” I say around a mouthful of dough, “what’re you making?”
He wipes his hands on his jeans and squints at the wood in front of him. “I’m building Milo a castle.”
I nearly choke on my bite. “You’remaking him a castle?” I squint at him. “I thought pretend play made children ‘live in fantasy worlds’ and ruined their development.”
He doesn’t look at me. “Well, new studies have shown that it’s good for development.”
“Uh-huh.”
He grunts. “It’s the job of parents to raise, and grandparents to spoil. Why do you think we let your grandmother feed you cake for dinner?”
I huff out a laugh. “You knew about that, huh?”
He nods once, still fiddling with the wood. “So, you gonna tell me what’s been up your ass since yesterday, or are we gonna continue talking about castles?”
My mouth opens, then closes again. The words stick in my throat, filled with regret.
“I… fucked up,” I finally get out. “Bad.”
Chapter Five
Lorelie
“I just don’t get why he’s so pissed,” I mutter into the phone, stabbing at a loose pebble with my foot. I’ve been pacing the patio for ten minutes now, phone wedged between my shoulder and ear, picking up twigs and toys scattered across the backyard.
Genesis called out of nowhere. Which means she’s either bored, sunburnt or waiting for a flight. Judging by the background noise, she’s at a beach. Her last video was from Panama City, taking about the benefits of coconut water and the spa package.
“Guys are like that, Lore,” she says, slurping loudly on something. “I mean, to them sex is nothing but fucking, and they know to women, well, some women, it’s more. So, they don’t like knowing their women had lives before them.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Patrick has always known I had a life before him. He’s the one who brought up being nonexclusive.”
“Yeah,” Genesis says, unimpressed. “And how many times did he ask you about the people you were seeing?”
