She rolls her eyes. “We’ve been over this, Alex. If you want people to stop treating you like a sex object, don’t treat yourself like one.”
“It’s not that simple,” I grumble.
“Yes, it is. You’ve got plenty of redeeming qualities,” she says. “You are a way better catch than you think you are.”
“You’re biased.”
She smiles. “Maybe I am, but it’s still the truth.”
Sarah comes barreling down the hall, dropping crayons and markers on her way. I don’t think twice about getting up and picking them up as she lunges for the couch.
“Got them!” she shouts.
I spread them out along the coffee table as she sets up her coloring books.
“All right, bestie, which one do you want?” I ask.
Sarah jumps in my lap with a jumbo coloring book.
I grab it from her and flip through the pages as she settles against me.
“This one!” she shouts, stopping me on a page with Cinderella and her pumpkin carriage.
Britt sits beside us, casting me a sly grin as she offers me a marker.
I work on the gold trim of the carriage while Sarah tries her hardest to stay in the lines of Cinderella’s dress. I cap my marker and toss it onto Britt’s lap.
“Here.” I take Sarah’s hand and slowly guide her. “Take your time. Don’t rush.”
Together we fill in the spots.
When I look up, I notice Britt’s looking at me like I hung the fucking moon. She hasn’t looked at me like that in a long time.
“You just have to let people in, Alex.”
Her gaze drifts to her daughter, to where I’m holding her hand, guiding her to stay in the lines. It’s still messy, but a little better.
I sigh, avoiding her gaze.
I let go of Sarah’s tiny hand and watch as she continues the rhythm on her own. “Good job!”
“Mhmmm.”
Brit crosses her arms, meeting my gaze with a knowing look.
“What?”
“Like I said,” she says carefully. “Lots of redeeming qualities.”
My cheeks redden from her compliment. I can’t remember the last time anyone said something like that to me. Actually, I don’t think anyone’s ever said anything like that to me.
She squeezes my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile.
“Thanks,” I say, even though I don’t take compliments well. She knows this.
I catch Sarah’s gaze from the side. “One more before Uncle Alex has to go to therapy?”
She nods with enthusiasm, her ponytail bobbing, and I ruminate on Britt’s advice.
