“The research is clear about babies and cats. It’s a thing you know.”
“Bring me my goddaughter, woman. She’s the reason I’m here.”
My sister turns, her red hair flying wild behind her. Her face goes ashen, and she looks from my leg to my shoulder to my face.
“Please.”
“It’s not like I could ever resist you anyway, but you owe me the whole story.” She points a manicured finger at me.
“Tomorrow. Over coffee.”
That seems to soften her.
“Fine. But if Sophia is too much?—”
“I’ll tell you. You know I wouldn’t risk her.”
She turns to the door before facing me again.
“Don’t you ever do this to me again.” Her voice drops to a whisper, and emotion bleeds across her words. “Never again, Liam. This shit has got to stop.”
Seeing as how I’m the one with two holes punched in me, I agree.
My sister’s halfway out the door when she calls over her shoulder, “And call Lorien. She was a wreck this morning when we spoke, and she hasn’t answered a single text since.”
44
charcuterie
Liam
Stretching for my phone is a mistake, but rolling over would be worse. I groan and fight not to disturb Poe with my reach.
She cracks a minty green eye and groans back.
“I see you’re going to be verbal.” I cup her in my other hand and roll my eyes.Lucky me.
I check the text thread first because something about Lorien makes me laugh and I could use it after the last twenty-four hours.
Me: Are you blushing reading this? Is the heat prickling up those perfect tits that I need to taste again?
Wifey: Yes, times three. Cheese and crackers.
I asked if she could still feel me deep in her pussy and she answered with charcuterie. I scrub a hand down my face. My life is unrecognizable in less than two months.
Wifey: This trip has been weird. I feel so guilty saying that. My brother seems great, though, and he wouldn’t fake it with us, even for his birthday. It was so worth the trip just to hug him tonight.
Wifey: Something’s up with my sister. I haven’t said much about her to you. She’s different than I am. As in polar opposite. She’s 9 ½ years older and is artsy. Needless to say, our brains don’t have the same frequencies. My stick people are crooked, and she makes a living doing watercolors.
Wifey: I’m not sure about the make a living part, actually. I wouldn’t be surprised if she lived in a commune that grew mushrooms for private sale. I’ve never been there.
Wifey: I’ve tried calling you. A couple of times. It’s weird that it doesn’t even ring.
Wifey: When you see the missed calls, don’t think I’m crazy. You get to have a life…
The last one was—I look at the clock—this morning. It’s almost midnight here.
Wifey: I’m trying not to worry. We never said we were obligated to one another. It just felt like something different when you dropped me off.
