Page 78 of Out Of A Fix

I grinned at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“What? No. We have three kids. That number hasn’t changed.”

We have. God. He was killing me.

The issue was simple to understand. Day in and day out, a kind, sexy, funny, drop-dead-gorgeous man was giving me all his attention, and I didn’t simply like it, but had already gotten used to receiving it. And I told myself it was fine because I was leaving fairly soon, but really, for my sanity, the week after Thanksgiving couldn’t come soon enough.

“Explain,” he prodded me, bringing me out of my head.

“You weren’t listening to me.”

“When?”

“You know when.”

“What?”

He was so busted. I smiled at him.

“Fine. I was tired and may have been nodding off.”

After all the homework had been completed, after Griff and I ran together, once all the screens were off, instead of going to bed to watch TV alone, Luke now sat in the living room with the rest of us, reading and talking, until about a half hour before the last bedtime, which was Griff’s.

Tatum went to bed at eight thirty, so she had to be upstairs and under the covers by eight, but everyone was allowed to read in their bed, just no screens. Darwin’s bedtime was nine, so when Tatum, in theory, was falling asleep, he had to be upstairs. Griff’s was at ten thirty, so he had to be up in his room by ten. Everyone had to be showered and ready to sack out. I thought Griff would still be fighting sleep to the last moment, but he was eating better because he was cooking, he ran with me, lifted weights with his father, woke up every morning at a quarter to seven, so really, at night, he was out like a light. The fact that it was dark so early was also a big plus. The summer, I was betting, would be more difficult.

But last night, we were all on the sectional, Tatum stretched out talking to Wink, Griff on his phone with Sean and Benny on Discord, looking up and discussing recipes for shrimp tacos. Darwin was outlining a report for his urban archaeology class—when I was going to school there was nothing called that—and Luke, who I thought was awake, was actually fading beside me as I texted with Rais. He and Sienna had driven over to check on my place. My three-bedroom apartment, in a historic building in Oak Park, had beautiful hardwood floors, tiles with marble wainscoting in both bathrooms, a stained-glass window in the fully remodeled kitchen, and wide window ledges for sitting. The apartments in the building were all spacious, the others having more bedrooms. I had changed mine, opened up the floor plan when I moved in, since there was only me and visiting friends. Rais said Sienna was impressed with all the turn-of-the-century architecture, but even more with my neighbors. I was at the top of the three-story walk-up, and I’d been there for ten years. Below me were the Kaufmans—Ezra, Matal, and their three boys, who’d been there for twenty-two years—and below them, Carlos Dominguez, his wife, Beatrice, and their three kids, there for eighteen years. Even picking up my mail, Rais and Sienna were greeted warmly. Rais had passed Sienna his phone, and she’d gushed in text after text about my home, which she described as a calm oasis, as well as close to all the best restaurants, clubs, and shopping.

Tell her to keep her mitts off my place, I warned Rais. I got back a picture of them framed in the archway leading to my kitchen. Who knew she’d be just as annoying as him?

In the middle of everything—my friend texting, kids lounging, a cat making biscuits on my chest—I’d turned to Luke and mentioned the plan for Friday night and all that was involved. His hand in my hair, I thought that had been acknowledgment, but now I was thinking he’d been trying to shut me up.

“I asked you, and you said you heard every word,” I reminded him now, trying to make a point.

“I may have overstated my level of wakefulness.”

I scoffed.

“Please explain to me what we’re doing.”

“Okay, so Tatum is having four friends spend the night,” I said, listing kids. “Darwin has Teddy sleeping over because his parents are going to see a ballet or an opera…not sure. I wasn’t really listening to that part, and⁠—”

“We’re babysitting?”

“Sleep. Overs,” I corrected him. “Griff doesn’t need babysitting, and neither do his friends Benny and Sean. All they need is food.”

“Why would Benny and Sean want to stay here? Griff goes to bed at ten thirty on the weekends too.”

“Because for one, he’s still grounded and can’t go to their houses, and secondly, they’re waking up at five in the morning anyway to go on a ride with their geology teacher to look at rock formations. Lunches need to be packed, and we need to feed them all at five thirty.”

“Why are we feeding Sean and Benny?”

“Because they’ll be here in the morning—are you awake?”

He groaned loudly.

“By the way, I do appreciate you siding with me on the grounding.”

“He’s underage and was drinking at a party,” he responded with a scoff. “He got off easy. You were nice, but of course I would back you up. We’re a team.”