“Does it need to be about anything else?”
She flips the pancake. “I suppose not. I just don’t like thinking you’re lonely.”
“I’m not lonely, Em. I’ve got you and the kids.”
“And you see us, what? Once a week? What do you do the rest of the week?”
“Work. Sleep. Drink. Burp.” I take another bite of the apple, ducking as an orange hurtles my way. “And have sex with random guys,” I add, standing.
“It’s a good thing neither of the kids walked in as you said that,” she hisses.
“I checked.”
“No, you didn’t.”
No, I didn’t.
“Did you like him?” she asks.
“The art teacher?”
“No, the Pope.”
“I’ve never screwed the Pope, so I don’t really have an opinion on him. But the art teacher? Yeah, he was nice.”
“Nice?”
I continue eating the apple as I recall what Corey looked like. “He was gorgeous.”
“Age?”
“Mid-twenties, at a guess.”
“If you both ended up at the same party again, would you hook up with him?”
“Maybe, if he wanted to.”
I don’t tend to hook up with the same guy twice. It’s not really my thing, but I probably wouldn’t say no to another round with Corey. He was tense when I first sat down to talk to him, but once he loosened up… I whistle.
“Reliving the experience?” Emily asks.
“Oh, yes.” Thanks to my hook-up with Corey, I’ve definitely got enough masturbation material for a week or two. Nowhere near as good as the real thing, but it’ll do.
“Maybe you should go take a cold shower.”
“What? And miss out on pancakes?”
She’s created a stack while we’ve been talking, and I can’t wait to tuck in.
“Do you have plans for the rest of your time off?”
“Sleep, drink—”
“Burp,” she cuts in. “You’re gross.”
“I think you’ve told me that every day since I was born.”
“Sounds about right.” She turns the burner off. “Seriously, Spence, I worry about you.”
