“The world is moving too fast for you today, babe. Have some bacon and toast if you can’t stomach the eggs. The protein and carbs will be good for you.”
“I need coffee to wash down these pills,” she states.
Arlo looks over at her, moving the eggs around the pan. “You should use water.”
All three of us stare at her in silence.
“What?” she asks, looking at each of us. “That’s what the bottle says.”
“Ar, no one follows the directions. Liquid is liquid,” Rosie informs her.
“I follow the directions,” Arlo replies.
“Shocking,” Rosie teases on a whisper as she heads back to the table with plates, forks, and napkins. “So does my mom, but no one else.”
“Do you take them with water?” Arlo asks me.
I shake my head. “I grab whatever is closest.”
Arlo gawks at me. “For real?”
“Yeah, babe. I’m a dude, too. We’re not going to stop for some water. We’re going to grab whatever and choke those pills down.”
She blinks, her mouth hanging open.
“Arlo, you’re way too grown up for Carmello,” Rosie tells her, setting the table. “He may look old, but he’s not fully grown.”
“I don’t look old,” I correct her. “I’m not fucking old.”
Rosie laughs. “Cousin, you’re in your thirties.”
“I’m thirty-one, not in them.”
“You are, but not deep. Still makes you middle-aged.”
It’s my turn to blink, jerking my head back. “What the hell, kid? I give you a place to stay and breakfast, and you have to throw shade my way?”
“Oh, stop. Thirty isn’t old. I think the guy Luna was flirting with last night was older than you.”
“Oh boy,” Arlo whispers.
I turn my gaze to Luna, and my eyes immediately narrow. “What. The. Fuck?”
Luna shrugs before jamming two pills into her mouth and washing them down with coffee. She mumbles, the words not audible behind the mug.
I point the butter knife at Rosie and then Luna. “Thirty is way too old for either of you. Stick to your own age group.”
“Have you been around twenty-year-old men lately?” Rosie asks as she slides back into her chair.
“Just the ones who come into the shop and the others in our family. Besides them, no,” I tell her honestly.
“They suck. Like not a little suck, but suck hard. All they care about is gaming, and they’re broke as fuck. I ain’t about to sit on the couch all night, playing video games or watching them play video games. And besides that, I want a man who’s going to treat me like a queen, and so does Luna.”
“I’m sure you could’ve found your Prince Charming at the caves last night, right?”
Rosie rolls her eyes at me. “You’re being an asshole again.”
I touch my chest, pretending to be hurt. “Babe, all guys are assholes. If you think otherwise, you’re mistaken. Who in our family who has a dick isn’t an asshole?”
She taps her lip, glaring at me as I carry the toast to the table. “No one,” she mutters. “But I’m not giving up on mankind just yet.”
“You’re in for a big letdown.”
“Then why do people get married?”
“Because they find the one asshole they can put up with on a daily basis. You just have to find the right asshole for you, with the knowledge that he, too, is an asshole, no matter how sweet he seems at the beginning.”
“Arlo, do you know Carmello’s an asshole?”
Arlo chuckles as she slides the scrambled eggs into a bowl. “I know he is, but he’s super sweet too. I don’t see his asshole side too often.”
“I’m good at hiding it,” I whisper to Rosie, giving her a wink. “Suck her in with the sweet first.”
“God, I hate men,” Luna says, coming to sit next to her sister. “You guys really are all assholes who only think with your dicks.”
“Basically,” I tell her. “The sooner you accept that as fact, the better off you’ll be. Always be leery of the nice ones. They’re wolves in sheep’s clothing.”
“Does that include you?” Luna asks me.
“That has been me, but not with Arlo.”
“Why not with Arlo?” she shoots back.
“I don’t know, kid.”
“You’re sweet and patient too,” Arlo adds as she sets the bowl of eggs in the middle of the table. Her arms then come around my shoulders, her cheek pressed to mine. “I wasn’t prepared for you.”
I turn my face slightly so our lips are almost touching. “Hooked you already, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she whispers.
“You two are gross,” Luna says.
Arlo’s smile touches her eyes as she looks at me. “I like being gross with you.”
I plant a big sloppy kiss on her, hearing the two girls gag and not giving a fuck. This is my house, and if they don’t like seeing the mushy shit, they shouldn’t get drunk and need a place to hide out from their parents.
“Eat,” I tell them. “And then showers. We have to be at Gram’s in a few hours.”
21
“Where are we going?” Arlo asks, wrapping her arms around my waist as I fire up the bike.
“Somewhere special.”
“But I thought we’d hang out with everyone,” she says in my ear, making herself heard over the roar of the engine.
I turn my head, looking at her over my shoulder. “I don’t want to share you all day, sugar.”
She smiles, her green eyes lighting up. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I say back to her, giving her a wink. “Hold on, babe.”
She tightens her arms around my middle and places her cheek on my back. I love this. The way she feels against my body, plastered to me like a second skin.
I move slower, weaving in and out of traffic less than I would if I were alone. I have precious cargo on the back, something I don’t ever want to injure.
There are still times, a decade later, when Carrie’s death creeps up on me and the guilt of not controlling the car crashes down, having the ability to suck me in. The times are fewer. The episodes shorter. But they still come and go.
I’ve never much cared about my own personal safety, but I worry about my friends, family, and now Arlo.
I take no extra chances, checking my surroundings more than usual and driving defensively instead of offensively. Is this what happens when you love someone? You change, even ever so slightly, to keep them safe from harm? If that’s what it means, I am there, and I’m more careful and mindful about her well-being than my own.
I take pleasure in every red light stop as she relaxes for a moment, kissing the back of my neck. And I fucking love every time the light switches to green, and her arms tighten again, tethering her to me.
The ride to the beach is entirely too short. Less than thirty minutes later, we arrive at a small patch of deserted sand as the sun hangs low in the sky, preparing for its nightly departure.
Arlo’s hands flatten on my stomach, her chest still pressed tight against me as she looks over my shoulder. “It’s so beautiful here,” she says after I cut the engine.