“Gams?” she giggles. “That’s very 1950s vocabulary, Mr. Parker.”
“That’s right, sweetheart,” I say in a terrible James Cagney impersonation. At least I think it’s James Cagney. “Seriously, Lexie. I want to start over. I want us to date, officially. I want you to kick my ass whenever I say something arrogant, selfish, self-centered or insensitive.”
“Geesh, that’ll take me all day every day. When will we have any fun?”
“Hardee har har.”
When she giggles again, I wrap my arms around her tightly. “Do you want that too? Do you want to go steady with me? Officially?”
She laughs again. “Yeah. I’ve got a crush on you.”
“You do? Gee, that’s swell.”
She laughs into my jacket and gets quiet again.
“Are you ready to go back out there?”
“No.” she sighs. “But, I need to. My dad isn’t doing well either. He’s pretending, but I fear he’s going to relapse into a worse depression than a year ago––if that’s even possible.”
“Let’s go check on him then.”
“Wait.” She says placing her hand on my chest. “What else are you sorry about?”
“Oh, babe, the list is so damn long. What if I continued it in bed tonight.”
“In bed? Where are you staying?”
“I’ve got a hotel in town. Super 8. But, we can sleep at your house. I just want to be with you. I must repent.”
