From my peripheral, I see Austin scrub a hand along his jaw. He shifts forward a bit. “I’ve helped her log the numbers. She’s good.”
“Yeah?” Dune says, tapping a pen on the desk. “You sure about that?”
Austin doesn’t flinch beneath Dune’s stern gaze. “Yeah. Why would you think she’s not?”
My phone vibrates and I peek at it.
We are literally sitting in the office of the PRESIDENT of a motorcycle GANG. Baby Charlotte-to-be would like to be born. Make them stop.
“Thank you, both,” I say with a wan smile, in an attempt to defuse things before it turns into a real Motorcycle Mayhem 4: All’s Fair in Bikes and War situation. “I think I’m comfortable with spreadsheets.”
Dune returns to accountant mode, and while he and Austin put aside their alpha to discuss a receipt, I text Charlotte.
Is Austin jealous of Dune?
Ya think? I’d say his jealousy is as obvious as your nipples when Austin wiped that ketchup off your chin earlier.
Stahp! You could’ve told me I was drooling ketchup!
You stop!
Dune interrupts us to have Charlotte fill in some missing information on a form. While they’re busy, Austin whispers in my ear again. This time, ghosting his lips against the sensitive skin as he says. “Are you guys texting about me? Do you need to Porch?”
He says the last part loud enough for Dune to hear.
“Everything okay?” Dune asks. “You’re not hiding income, are you? I’ve got a special form for that if—”
“Haha, no,” I say. “It’s lady talk. We’re just going to the bathroom. Charlotte pees so much now.” I nudge Charlotte when she completes her form requirements.
“Yep, I pee every three minutes,” she says, standing. “Come with me for lady talk, please, Chloe.”
Dune gives us directions and in the bathroom, I tell her Austin asked me out on a real date, but I haven’t accepted and needed to think about how I should answer. Because I’m an adult who doesn’t make rash decisions. In my next life, I will be, anyway.
She blinks. “Seriously? Like a couple date?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go on a date with him?”
“I don’t know! I mean, yeah, I told him to ask me on a date, so obviously I do, but should I?”
“What’s the should? If you want to, you do it.”
“Because I’m dating Logan.”
She clasps my shoulders and turns me toward a cool leather chair in the corner of the room. “Sit and prepare yourself. I’m going to practice parenting with you.”
“Oh, okay. Good idea.”
“Ahem. You need to grow up.” I open my mouth, stung that she thinks I’m acting like a child when I’m trying so hard to be mature, but she cuts me off with a raised finger. “Nope, I’m still going. This is silly and you know it. We’re gossiping about boys in a bathroom.”
“You’re right. I know you are. Granny Mae says I should date them both, but there really wasn’t a good time to tell Logan about that last night.”
“She’s a wise woman. Look—Austin knows about Logan. You need to tell Logan if you’re going to go on a date with Austin. People do this all the time. It’s not like you’re the first. And frankly, seeing as you and Logan are not official, I’m also going to pull the feminist card and say we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you were a man. You aren’t doing anything wrong. You just need to decide what you want, and then communicate it to everyone.” She gives me a pointed look. “Like an adult.”
“You’re going to be the best mom ever.”
“I’m seeing myself more as the dad…”
“Okay, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but yeah. Best daddy ever.”
We hug and return to find Dune showing Austin some of his recent ink. “Hey, Chloe, check this out,” he says, and holds out his arm.
I close the space between us and there on his wrist is… “Is that an inch line?”
“Yep. It reminds me to be more present. You taught me that.”
“Very cool. I’m glad I inspired you.”
Austin clears his throat, and Dune glances between us. “You did. And even if you’re not my woman, you’ll always be family.” He stares at Austin. “You’ve got her back when I’m not around?”
“I’ve got her back even when I’m not around,” Austin says, setting a swoon swarm alight in my belly. “She’s good.”
“I believe you, brother,” Dune says.
“Good. Because I don’t say things I don’t mean. Especially when it comes to Chloe.”
Dang. I rub my own inch line.
And it reminds me that I do know who I am now, and that I can ask for what I want.
“Well, this has been the most interesting tax filing ever,” Charlotte says. “I’m going to recommend you to all my friends.”
Dune grins, and the tension in the air lifts. We decide to break for dessert and head into the backyard. After chocolate cake and apple pie, Dune takes Austin to scope out the bikes and Charlotte and I mingle with the guests. The women make plans to send Baby Charlotte to-be biker onesies, and I like being part of this family. Once our taxes are finished, and we say goodbye, and also snag some to-go plates, I tell Austin I’ll go out with him.
But first…I need to talk to Logan.
Nine
Life is my bitch. The board game, that is, but I’ll take it since my real life didn’t come with easy-to-follow directions.
Austin and I are having a “not-a-date” night at home, because I decided I should have an important conversation like the one I need to have with Logan in person, and it’ll be a while.
Austin respected my decision to wait until I talk to Logan, but he also insisted that after a week’s worth of twelve-hour days schlepping clay back and forth from the store’s kiln I needed a break. So instead of a real date outside of these walls he made fresh, fried potato chips and his signature French onion dip, while I uncorked a bottle of Merlot and dug out my white elephant gift from the work Christmas party—The Game of Life: Quarter Life Crisis.
“No way,” Austin mutters as he lands on a spot to downgrade his job. “I’m screwed.”
“Bummer,” I say with a grin and pop a chip into my mouth. “Your bad luck streak continues.”
This parody version of the original is much more authentic to real life. Not only do you start with no money, you also get crushed with a staggering $500,000 in debt to pay off to win. Like the original, to start the game, you have a tiny plastic car, but you are randomly given a job for income and a house to rent, along with a side hustle to help you erase your debt.
Fun, right? In the real world, this is what happens so you can afford to have furniture you don’t put together yourself while surviving solely on ramen noodles.
“This isn’t life.” He frowns. “Whoever made this game needs to reassess their living skills.”
He says that because he’s losing.
“What’s more lifelike than getting divorced, paying more than you can afford for childcare, and changing jobs?”