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Since Mike has a problem with pretty much everything I say, and since he’s obviously going to check the messages and find out, I shrug and look out the window. Downtown Belle Argo with all its pretty shops scrolls by outside while I quietly await the fallout.

As soon as he stops at a red light, he grabs his phone. “Why are you bothering with those idiots? I’ll do it.”

My neck twinges when I turn my head. “And how well do you think that’s going to go?”

Michael drops his phone into a cup holder and continues driving. “I’m Ella’s uncle. I know you better than anyone. Me doing it makes the most sense.”

“You can’t even be in the same room with me without wanting to flog me like an old mule.”

Of course, in this scenario, the mule then gets inappropriately turned on by the flogging, but that’s too much to think about right now.

One of his shoulders twitches. “That’s when we’re alone, though. Guarantee you not a single one of our friends has any idea how much I hate you.”

“That’s because they all think you’re a nice guy.”

“I can be nice,” he insists. “When I want to be. I don’t want to be nice to you. Except around Ella, because why I hate you is too complicated to explain to a six-year-old, or our nosy-as-hell friends.”

“Well, I thank you for that explanation. It’s all clear as mud now.”

“Glad I could help.” The grin he gives me is full of teeth and complete bull spit.

“We can’t pretend to be a couple in front of the people at the school we’re trying to get Ella into. If she caught on and thought you and I were a thing, that would be confusing. How would we explain it to her when a few weeks later we’re not together anymore?”

“How much would we need to explain? She’s six.”

“She’s smart for six.” Obviously, I’m biased, but she’s definitely got her momma’s smarts. Thank God.

“Just because she can read at a middle school level doesn’t mean she understands nuanced ‌relationships.”

When I try to take a deep breath, my sides cramp. “I don’t want to confuse her.” Or myself. “Besides, we’d never make a convincing couple. You can’t pull my hair and force me to lick your armpits and call that a relationship.”

Despite my frustration, my dick gives a pulse. Mike’s never actually made me lick his pits, and now I wonder if he might.

I really ought to stop giving him ideas. It’s plain he’s got plenty all on his own. He even pissed on my foot once.

He claims he was drunk and didn’t realize I was standing so close, but who knows?

A few minutes later, we walk into Gil’s, the brunch place our group likes to meet at. The smell of coffee and the sight of our friends gathered around a table helps to perk me up some. My stomach growls at the first whiff of greasy potatoes. I’ve always had a soft spot for carbs.

When we first sit down, there’s some chatter about Ella’s school thing, with the two women who usually join us acting the most interested.

Nobody else has kids here, though, so I’m finding it difficult to explain why I want to pay for her to go to a different school when she can attend one for free. Eve, seated across from me, seems to be the only one who understands.

“You want her to get the best education possible. Of course you do. And jeez, the pills? They’re lucky some kid didn’t mistake them for candy or something.”

“Yes. Thank you.” That’s the exact thing that’s been freaking me out. The thing that’s always crowding my brain. All the what-ifs.

I glance at Michael to see if he’s listening. Only because I know we’ll end up rehashing this all later. He’s sitting next to Simon’s boyfriend, though, talking about…index funds, I think?

Simon’s a former escort who still meets us for brunch every week, and his boyfriend is some big-deal business guy. A consultant, or something?

And Mike loves talking to people about investing. It’s made him real popular among our group. Who doesn’t want tips on how to grow their money faster?

Despite how much I regularly want to tell the guy to take a long walk off a short pier, it’s clear he knows what he’s talking about. Everyone says so. I’ve tried to listen and pay attention, to the extent I can.

Most of the money I’m saving for when Ella’s older, I’ve put into a high-interest savings account. That much I understood, though I’m still confused about why my regular bank doesn’t offer that. Putting my money into an internet bank where I can’t walk in and talk to someone makes me nervous. But investing?

It feels a little like gambling to me, and I saw what that did to my father. Can’t bring myself to take the risk. And I definitely can’t bring myself to ask Mike for help.