“Ethical porn.”
She leaned up on her elbow. “Excuse me?”
I gave a low chuckle. “That’s what you offered me the first time I came to your boudoir.”
“I was trying to be a good host.”
That just made me laugh harder. “Tea, coffee, porn?”
“You got there in the end, didn’t you?”
“Only because I imagined you on the other side of that door. Eavesdropping.”
“I was in the kitchen, letting my imagination run riot. Now look at us.” She let out a little sigh. “Thanks for being here. For listening about my mom.”
“You’ve got so many amazing people in your life, Franky. Don’t let one person be a blot on it.” I pulled her close and kissed her temple. “That’s what you told me on Halloween when I was pissed about my dad.”
“And then I pissed you off more by not letting you plunder my school uniform. Or navigate inside my tights.”
“I beat those tights in the end.” I watched her blue eyes sparkle in the low lamplight. “So, I have a question that’s going to sound weird.”
“Okay.”
“Did you ever sleep with Sean?”
Her eyes went as wide as pucks. “Sean? God, no.”
“He said there was one time you and he … but I never heard the rest. Was he messing with me?”
She giggled. “Oh, that. When we were sixteen, I think? We kissed. More a ‘let’s try this and see if there’s anything there’ kind of thing. And there wasn’t. No chemistry whatsoever.”
Thank Christ. “Good. It’s already weird enough that he was your first choice.”
“Is the Green-Eyed Monster … jealous?”
“I’ve every right to be.”
She nodded. “Sure, sure, Mason Listener.”
I laughed. “Lauren told me about that tonight. Kind of wild.”
“Yes, so wild that there are all these fan fiction lovers reading about your sexy adventures with team owner Tabitha Mace in the locker room showers. Am I allowed to be jealous?”
Yes, you are, baby. “It’s not about me. It’s about someone who looks like me, living in an alternative world. Like the Multiverse.” I loved that it bothered her, though. Turnabout was fair play. “What’s with the Ferris Bueller stuff?”
She cast a glance at the shelving unit where the movie-themed diorama and Cameron Funko Pop figure were displayed.
“Just souvenirs of a great day from my childhood.”
“Tell me.”
She settled her head against my chest. “I was nine and Cat was eleven. We had just come to live with Dad during the playoffs, and we—me, Cat, and Violet—kidnapped him from the Rebels practice rink and spent the day in Chicago doing fun things like we were in the movie. We couldn’t replicate it exactly, but Violet came up with all these amazing activities. Afternoon tea at the Drake, a visit to Sears Tower, even though Dad was terrified of heights, dinner at Harry Caray’s, all in a borrowed Bentley that belonged to Dante.
“I brought a snail with me in a jar, a Cornu Aspersum, and I tried to feed it under the table with a sliver of lettuce from one of the tiny sandwiches they give you for the fancy tea. The waiter spotted me, and we almost got thrown out.” She laughed, then turned serious. “Violet was the first adult I met who didn’t judge me. Well, Dad didn’t, but he was so self-absorbed at the time with drinking and hockey and atonement, I suppose. Going to live with him was the best thing that could have happened because I met Vi.”
I understood all too well. That was the place Theo held for me.
She ran her hand over my chest. “I think people show up in our lives when we need them, kind of like angels.”
