“I’m coming. I’m coming.”
I finish constructing a cheese sandwich, which I give her with slices of cucumber and green grapes, cut in half lengthways. Technically she should sit at the table to eat, but I don’t care when it’s just the two of us as long as she doesn’t rat me out to my brothers later. She carries on watchingPaw Patrol,her favourite cartoon, while I stare at Calvin’s response.
“Are you okay, Uncle Blake?” Lexi asks.
“Guy trouble.”
She gasps. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”
“No.” I’m pretty sure I don’t anyway.
She tilts her head and stares at me.
“If you’ve finished your snack, you should do your reading.”
“Five more minutes?”
I sigh. “Fine. Five minutes. Then the TV goes off, and you do your reading. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says sulkily.
I take the empty plate from her and brush the bread crumbs off the sofa. Then I sit beside her. She snuggles under my arm and sucks her thumb. It’s a habit Corey is desperate to get her out of because the dentist has told him it’ll pull her teeth out of alignment, but nothing he’s tried has worked so far.
“Don’t suck your thumb,” I whisper, nudging her hand.
She giggles but doesn’t stop.
Gabe:Sorry, I’ve only just seen your messages. Until ten minutes ago, I was hanging off a thirty-storey building. I’m about to head home.
My eyes pop wide.
Blake:What do you do?
Gabe:I’m a welder. I have rope qualifications, which mean I get to work in all kinds of crazy places.
Blake:Rather you than me.
Gabe:You get a great view over London when you’re thirty storeys up.
Blake:I bet.
Gabe:I agree with Cal, by the way. You didn’t come on too strong. But we do need to talk about what we all want. Are you both free tonight?
Calvin:Yup.
I crane my neck to look at the family planner that Archie made for us. No one has booked themselves out tonight, although Archie did get home really late last night. Apparently, his bear of a boss gave him extra work to do, which I’m betting means they ended up fucking. Corey should be home at his usual time, though.
Blake:I should be.
The episode Lexi is watching ends.
“All right, kiddo, time to read.”
“Aww.”
I snatch the remote control before she can and turn the TV off. “Go and get your reading book.”
Huffing and puffing, she goes back into the hall, stomping back in a minute later with her book bag. She sits and reads to me, sounding out words that are long or unfamiliar. She’s getting pretty good at reading, considering she’s only halfway through her first year at school. I record how many pages she’s read in her reading log when she’s done.
