Chapter 8
Keeton
I finally drag my tired ass home from the shop at eight. I spent the hour after Lainie left talking to Deb and then just thinking. Just thinking about Lainie. Lainie and me. Nothing was resolved in my head. How could it be? I’ve never in my life acted so spontaneously with a woman. I take that back, I’ve picked women up at the bar whenever the need arose, but booze-induced hookups don’t count.
Pulling into my garage on one of my bikes, I park, turn off the engine, and look around at the new four-car garage attached to my new home. My new home on three acres of land. My new home with four bedrooms, six baths, and a gourmet kitchen. I designed it myself and it wasn’t until this precise moment that I understand why I designed the house like this. It’s because I want to fill it up. Fill it up with a family. I swear to fuck I didn’t know I was doing it. Both Eric and Molly scratched their heads at each revision to the design I created. It kept getting bigger and bigger. More bedrooms one time, a game room in the basement the next; a pool in the backyard surrounded by a safety fence made of iron was the final addition before I signed off on it, handing it over to the architect who would get it ready for the builder.
I gulp as I run my hand through my hair. The realization that this is what I’ve been waiting for—Lainie is what I’ve been waiting for—is daunting. I feel my eyes burn. There’s no fucking way I’m going to cry, right? I’m a thirty-fucking-six year old man. I don’t cry. I feel wetness on my cheek and I wipe it away quickly. I must have dirt in my eye. Shaking it off, I slide off my bike and walk through the door to my home, into my kitchen. “I need a damn beer.” Maybe I should call one of my hookups. You know, to get this shit out of my system. To get Lainie out of my head. I shouldn’t want this, her. I’m happy, right?
Deb’s words float around me.Now it’s your turn. Icing. You can have it all. A woman who dotes on you and who gives you the family you’ve always wanted.
It’s fucking uncanny. I know Deb’s right. Lainie would be the sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life. I’d treat her like a fucking queen. A goddess. And just like I know what I’d do, I’m positive she’d do the same for me and our kids. “Fuck!” I shout into my cavernous, empty house.House. Not home. Not yet.
I stomp out of the kitchen, through the great room, down the hallway to my bedroom. Stripping down, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the steam shower. I need to relax. Drink my beer and watch some hockey or something. The Vegas Golden Knights should be on; I’ll focus on that.
I don’t linger in the shower. I’ll jack off if I spend too much time there. I’m out in five minutes and in a tee and clean boxer briefs in five more. I lay on my bed and flip channels on the television on the wall. Finding something entertaining to watch takes me a few. As I scroll through the channels I hear my phone chime. Probably Molly. I didn’t check in with her today.
Sliding off my bed, I walk to my dresser and grab my phone. I look down but don’t recognize the number. Clicking on the text app, I read:
Unknown Number:Hi, Keeton. This is Lainie Palmer-Bottoms. You know, from earlier today?
Fuck yes. My heart starts to pound in my chest. It’s a foreign feeling for me. Nothing shakes me like this girl. Nothing.
Me: Hey, beautiful.
I wait for her to respond. It takes her too long. What happened? Moving back over to my bed, I mute the television, so I can focus on her. While I wait, I add her name to my contacts:My Lainie.
What? Don’t be shocked. This girl ismine.
Me: You still there?
My Lainie: Oh, yes. Sorry. I’m here.
Me:What are you doing tonight?
I’m dying to ask her what she’s wearing but I don’t think I should go there. Yet.
My Lainie: I just got home.
Just got home? Where’s she been? Out? If so, with who?
Me: Just got home?
I look at the clock.
Me: It’s late, baby.
I wait for a response but she’s taking her sweet time.
My Lainie: Why do you keep calling me that?
Me: Calling you what? Baby?
My Lainie: Yes.
The answer to that question is more complicated than I can cover in a text, so I simplify.
Me: It feels right.
