“That’s just you. I’ve never called anyone else Daddy.”She shrugs, and I can’t let myself think about that too hard, either.
I force myself to look away from her, staring up at the wood-paneled ceiling.Bryan. Shay. She’s twenty-six. When the road clears, she’s leaving.I recite all the reasons this is a bad idea over and over in my head, but it’s the last one that stings the most.
13
ESTE
“And he was just… naked?”
Sloane’s eyebrows are sky-high. She’s lying on a hotel bed in a bikini, with her chin propped up on a neon pink towel that clashes with the red lipstick I can’t for the life of me figure out why she’s wearing when she spends all day lying by a pool.
“Completely naked,” I confirm. “And reading one of my books.” Every time I’ve picked my Kindle up since, I’ve been haunted (blessed) by the memories.
She whistles. “Damn. That’s pretty hot, right? Even if he is an old man.”
“It’s hot. And he’s not an old man, Slo.”
“He graduated high school before you were conceived. Old.” Sloane wrinkles her nose, like she wasn’t the one who encouraged me to pursue Nico. “So, what’s going on between you?”
It’s a good question. A reasonable question. One I, too, would love an answer to.
“He likes it when I push him. I think he’s looking for an excuse to snap, you know?”
“Like punish you for pushing him?” Sloane hums appreciatively. “Now thatishot.”
Shewouldthink that was hot: Sloane has always thrived on being defiant, and though I channel her every now and then when it works to my benefit, that’s never been my thing.
“I don’t think it’s punishment as much as he wants to justify wanting me so much. Nico’s more of a caretaker than a punisher.” Imagining him even pretending to be mad at me is laughable.
“So, you’re stuck in a beautiful cabin with a man who bakes fresh bread and wants to take care of you? Are the blankets too soft? Is mountain water too crisp? What a hardship,” she says, her voice dry.
“Hey, have you heard a single complaint coming out of my mouth?” I laugh. “I love it here. It’s like a sanctuary. The snow can take as long as it wants to melt.”
Concern flickers over Sloane’s face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, quickly. “It’s just… as nice as it is, please don’t pull a Nico and disappear for twenty years. I’d miss you too much.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure by the time the road clears, I’ll be chomping at the bit to be around people again,” I lie. Right now, it doesn’t feel like I’ll ever be ready. But I know the longer I hide away, the harder it’ll be. Nico is proof of that, and not only do I not want to spend the rest of my life shut away, I know he wouldn’t let me. If I even suggested sticking around for longer than I have to, I imagine he’ddrive me down the mountain and deposit me in town without a second thought.
“Good. Because I still have no idea how to take the filter out of the dishwasher to clean it, and I don’t care to learn.”
I ask about their trip and just let her talk for a while. I’m so used to Sloane just chatting away in the background at home. Our apartment is never quiet. Nico is not an idle chatter kind of person, and I don’t find I miss it, but there’s something comforting about the normalcy of Sloane rambling away.
Grey is snoring at my feet, and Earl is lying across my lap. I run my fingers through his soft fur, perfectly content and relaxed. If Nico were here, I could easily snuggle into him and fall asleep, but he’s in his workshop working on a credenza for a customer.
Sloane stops talking when our dads come back from their walk and drop down on the bed beside her.
“When did you last eat a vegetable?” Pops says, in lieu of a greeting, scowling through the camera. It’s how he shows he cares—asking when I checked my oil, or took my vitamins, or some other basic life thing that, admittedly, I don’t always remember to do.
“Nico made carrot soup for lunch,” I tell him, and he nods, momentarily placated. We don’t have much in the way of fresh veggies, but Nico wasn’t kidding when he said he was prepared for this. He has a cellar full of canned produce, most of which he preserved himself. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. My ex didn’t know how to make rice. Nico has a sourdough starter that’s almost as old as me.
The hottest thing a man can be is competent.
“How are things going with you two?” Dad asks, and Sloane hides her smirk behind her hair.
“Things are good. We get along well, and don’t clash or anything.”
