“Oh, thank God.” Heidi blows out a loud breath. “That’s way less messy and will only take about five minutes.”
I rattle off Ruth’s plate number and Heidi promises to email me the information as soon as she’s finished. Ending the call, I order her a bouquet of thank you flowers, and move on to my next task—figuring out how to baby-proof this place.
It needs to be done regardless. Sooner or later the twins will be mobile, so the place needs to be safe for them anyway. But if I can convince Ruth to cahoot with me, I’ll need to make sure Birdie is safe when she’s here.
An hour later my online cart is filled with everything from outlet covers to cabinet catches. I’ve got baby gates and furniture stabilizers. Sippy cups and plastic plates.
And a hell of a lot of toys.
Ruth claimed our fictitious night together happened two years ago, which makes Birdie a little over a year old. I have as much experience with toddlers as I do childbirth, so I rely on Dr. Google to tell me what a kid her age will like best.
I hit checkout, and head straight to my email, grinning from ear to ear when I see Heidi has come through for me.
Ruth Wagner
1724 Pearl Street, apartment 3B
Marksburg, Wyoming 82836
She even managed to get a phone number, her mother’s maiden name, and her birthdate.
Because Heidi is the cat's tits.
I’m grabbing my keys, intending to head out the door, when my doorbell rings for the second time today. I know I can’t get lucky twice, so opening the door to find my mother smiling back at me isn’t a huge surprise.
“Good morning.” She sounds way too chipper today. “I just came over to see how you’re doing.”
She absolutely did not. She came over because I was right about how fast gossip travels. She’s already heard what happened at the bar last night and wants to dig for more information.
I’ve got to find a way to keep this conversation vague. I don’t want to get boxed in by specifics. Not until I know whether or not Ruth is going to play ball. I also don’t want to have to lie, and considering I’m attempting to build an entire relationship on one,asone, that’s not going to be an easy feat to accomplish.
“Doing good.” I thumb over one shoulder in the direction of the garage, keys clutched in my hand. “About to head out the door.”
Her brows lift. “You have plans this early on a Saturday morning?”
“Yup.” It’s technically true. Ihavemade plans and itisSaturday morning. “I’ve got a busy day, so I wanted to get going on it early.” I decide the best way to avoid having to blatantly lie to my mother’s face is to dominate the conversation, so I continue without pausing, “I have a few errands to run, and then I’m going to work on the basement.”
Like the rest of my brothers’ houses, mine has a full basement. Since we all lived alone when we built them, there was really no reason to finish the space. Until recently, mine has simply been a blank canvas with concrete floor and walls. Currently, it's a half-finished pile of flooring, furniture-grade lumber, and other miscellaneous building materials. I was taking my time with the project, thinking I had at least a year to complete it. Looks as if I’m gonna have to push that date up some.
Like, a lot.
My mother gives me a sweet smile, reaching out to pat my cheek. “You are such a good boy. Working so hard to make something the twins will enjoy.”
“Yup. That’s me. Uncle Tucker for the win.”
I’m starting to think I’m gonna get out of this conversation unscathed. That maybe my motherdidn’thear about the false claim I made at the bar last night. It’s possible that woman didn’t even really know who I was. Not probable, but definitely possible.
But then my mother drops the bomb I hoped wouldn’t detonate. “When do I get to meet this girlfriend you're telling everyone in town about?”
“That is a good question.” I say the words slowly, hoping to buy myself some time.
As someone who believes honesty is always the best policy, I’ve never really practiced deceit, and it’s taking my brain longer than I expected to come up with some bullshit. “I will have to get back to you on that.”
“Make sure you do.” Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “And give me a little notice so I can plan a nice dinner for the family.”
“Okay.” I take a breath, working hard to even out my smile. “I can do that.”
I hope to God I can do that, otherwise I’m fucked. Sideways. With a pinecone.
