But it’s more complex than that. I need the intimacy that sex offers. Lying in a guy’s arms after the deed is done, feeling his strength, feeling safe. But I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl, so the alternative is to keep my relationships casual. Any guy I’m with knows up front that he’ll never be invited over for dinner, never meet the kid and the whacko maternal unit. He’s not allowed to think he loves me (because that’s delusional on his part). We’ll never be in an exclusive relationship. If he starts to wants more, I end it. If I start to want more, I end it. That’s why I haven’t been with a man in a long time and when I mean a long time, I mean my vagina has cobwebs.
Brody gives me a side-eye glance. “You’re quiet.”
“Says the man who owns the world’s shortest dictionary.”
He snorts. “Says the woman who owns the world’s largest dictionary.”
I want to retort but my mouth is dry. He’s so virile, so solid, beautifully built, well-honed muscles, no fat anywhere. And there doesn’t seem to be anything fake about him. No bullshit. No pretense. I think about sex with him and feel myself flushing. I know being with him would be the worst idea ever, but my girl bits want cock.
I bite at a hangnail as I watch him discreetly. Casual sex would be a non-starter. He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy, and I doubt I could keep it casual for long. He’s already met my kid, talked on the phone with my mom. He’s still around, albeit under protest. It’s going to be a problem spending too much time with him so I have to solve the Henri-Oscar problem fast.
“Fuck!” he says suddenly as he bolts from his chair. I watch as he runs towards Henri, scooping her up, bringing her back to me, and dumping her unceremoniously at my feet. Oscar, in the meantime, is trapped in the canvas of the tent, a rope solidly wrapped around him so all he can do is shout and squirm.
Brody glares at me, then races back to his mummified son.
“How’d you manage that?” I say to Henri as she sits in Eight’s vacated chair.
“It was easy, really. When he wrapped me in the tent, I pretended that I was suffocating. So he eased up. which gave me a chance to shove the tent over his head. I kicked his feet out from under him and wound the rope around him so tight he couldn’t move. I would’ve sat on his head, but his daddy came running.”
I watch daddy as he fiddles with a knot in the rope. I wouldn’t mind sitting on his head. I look at Henri. “You could give him a break, you know.”
She shrugs. “He started it, called me a witch and threw the tent over my head.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “He called you a witch? That’s weird.”
“That’s what I thought. He usually calls me a BIH.”
The conversation ends as Oscar, freed from the canvas, barrels toward Henri so fast she can’t escape. He tackles her when he reaches her, knocking both her and the chair over and landing on her hard.
“Hey!” I shout without conviction as I juggle my beer to keep it from spilling. I watch them scrabble around in the dirt, pushing at each other, voices getting louder. No fists, hairpulling or biting yet, so I stay on the sidelines.
Brambles decides it’s playtime and joins the fray, rolling in the dirt with them.
Brody returns, grabs at Oscar and misses. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snarls, his angry eyes catching mine. He gets his hands on the back of Henri’s tee-shirt and pulls her away from Oscar. She struggles, screams and gets close to Brody’s balls with a hard kick.
I admire his quick reflexes. “What’s the worst they were going to do to each other?”
“Not the fuckin’ point!” he shouts as he continues to hold Henri while she struggles.
Oscar is on his feet now, fists clenched, red faced. “You butthole loser!”.
Brody glares at me. “No wonder your daughter is a nightmare. She has you as a mother!”
I jerk to my feet. “Henri has the right to freedom of expression,” I yell. “Yeah, she’s independent, but why the hell shouldn’t she be?” I take a breath as I yank her away from him and toss her next to me a little too hard. She lands on her ass. “What makes you think you’re a better parent, you judgy, dead-eyed, tight-lipped hypocrite? You just stand there and take it until someone rattles your cage.”
Red-hot fury underlies his tone. “Unlike you and your daughter, thinking you can fuck with the world, thinking it won’t push back.”
“Yeah, sure, except Oscar has no problem bullying Henri.”
“In fuckin’ retaliation.” His eyes are hard and soulless. “She starts the bullshit, what’s he supposed to do, turn the other cheek every fucking time?”
If I wasn’t so worked up, I’d be afraid. “Maybe he starts the bullshit! After all, he attacked her with the tent first.” I clench my fists. I so want to hit him. “Maybe you should start raising your kid or give him back to his mother!”
“Don’t you go there, you goddamned bitch. You don’t have a fucking clue about my life.” He takes a step towards me, murder in his eyes.
Despite shaking inside, I hold my ground. “Says the wifeless prick.”
“One more word out of you--.”
