I stalk out of the pub, giving Jolene a curt nod on my way to the staircase. Once I’m on the street, I storm over to my bicycle and put on my helmet. “Not a man. Fuck him,” I mutter, getting on my bike. Pushing off with one foot, I pedal furiously down the street. “Just because I didn’t get lucky and write the world’s most popular fantasy novels doesn’t mean I’m not a man.”
***
Isabelle is riding around the driveway on her trike when I arrive home. Today, she’s in a swimsuit, a pair of oversized old lady sunglasses, and a big sun hat. She grins and waves at me. “Hi! I’m back from my holiday.”
Getting off my bicycle, I give her a small smile. “Welcome home, Isabelle.”
“Where were you?” she asks, following me as I walk my bike to the gate.
“Out for lunch with my brother and his girlfriend.”
“Oh, did you get ice cream?”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “No, Izzy. Unfortunately, I did not get any ice cream. Instead, I got lectured on growing up.”
She gives me a perplexed look for a second. “I like ice cream. It’s the best food there is.”
“Agreed.” I prop my bike against the fence, then turn back to Izzy. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yup.”
“If someone were to say, ‘Here, Izzy, I’m going to give you everything you ever wanted, and you never have to work, and can just play all day for the rest of your life,’ you’d say yes to that, wouldn’t you?”
She nods quickly with wide eyes that suggest she has no idea what I’m talking about, but she’s onboard anyway. Gotta love kids.
“That wouldn’t be pathetic, right? You’d still be a real man—well, in your case, a real girl—if you took it,” I say. “Pierce doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I mutter. “I’m a real man.”
I turn to her. “You think of me as a grown-up, right, Izzy? I do grown-up things like mow the lawn and use the washing machine.”
“Sort of,” she says. “But mostly you don’treallyknow how to be a grown-up. You’re more like a kid. ’Cept you pee really loud, but Mum says that’s cause you’re so tall.”
What does she know? She’s not even five. Besides, who asked her anyway?
CHAPTER 25
Rainstorms and Revelations…
Brianna. Three Months Later
It’s late in the evening. Isabelle is asleep, and I’m washing up the dishes while Dolores fries up a package of emergency bacon. You know, the extra bacon you keep in the fridge when you’re running low on bacon. The window in front of me is open to let the smell out, Jerry’s bass guitar is thumping out some mellow tune, and I feel a refreshingly cool breeze on my skin as I mindlessly wipe a plate with the soapy cloth. Knickers, Milo, and Puddy Tat sit on the tile floor behind Dolores, waiting patiently for their share as the rain softly falls.
Today was a day off for Leo and I, and we spent most of it together getting groceries, running errands, and doing all sorts of other married-couple things—although we prefer to call them totally normal landlady-tenant things so as to remind ourselves of the carefully constructed boundaries of our relationship. Leo mowed the lawn while I pulled weeds out of the flowerbed, both of us finishing just before a storm blew in. Then we hurried into the house together, laughing as we dodged the huge raindrops, and stood at the kitchen window with Isabelle between us, watching as the earth was pelted with water. The next couple of hours were spent with me studying at the kitchen table while Leo and Dolores played cards and board games with Izzy.
Now, as I rinse the plate, I think about how much Dolores has taken to Leo. She’s not normally one to have any use for men, but Leo’s different. The two of them get along like a house on fire, sharing private jokes and calling each other Bonnie and Clyde after Dolores 'accidentally’shoplifted a chocolate bar when they went to the store together the other day.
I hum while I pluck a glass out of the warm water and start to work on it.
“So how long have you and Leo been sleeping together?” Dolores asks from her position in front of the stove.
I whip my head around. “What? We’re notsleeping together.”
She gives me a sceptical look. “But you want to.”
“I certainly do not,” I answer indignantly, while simultaneously turning back to the sink so she can’t see my bright-pink cheeks.
“Oh, please, who do you think you’re kidding?”
“No one, because it’s the truth. Leo and I have a very nice friendship, and he’s very helpful around here, so maybe that’s what you’re sensing—my gratitude.”
