Either way, I’m left in the same boat with firm evidence that Jill’s lips taste even better than I’d imagined and a dick that gets hard every time I think about it. Not even my morning swims in the cold ocean can make a dent.
It doesn’t help that I’ve got the day off work today and nothing to do with it, so I resolve to pour my sexual frustration into some long-overdue repairs to the house’s exterior. Since I don’t own more than a few basic tools, that means I’m headed for Mom and Morris’s place, where there’ll be no avoiding the inquisition.
Morris answers the door, and we shake hands as usual. “You’re looking good,” I tell him, and it’s not just out of courtesy. He had a heart scare a while back, and my mom’s been keeping him on a healthier diet.
“That’s kind of you to say, my boy.” He ushers me inside and calls for my mom. Morris and I are of the same opinion when it comes to small talk, so unless we’re planning on staring at the walls for the next ten minutes, it’s best just to summon my mother sooner rather than later. “I’ve got the truck all loaded up with whatever you might need. You can just bring her back when you’re through.”
I thank him, and in comes my mom wearing a pink velour sweatsuit with a matching ball cap. “You still haven’t RSVP’d for Thanksgiving,” she says, apropos of nothing at all before she gives me a quick hug and stands back to survey me. She must not see anything particularly upsetting because she makes no comment and keeps on about the holiday. “You missed last year, and with Felicity out of town, you don’t have to feel bad about not going to Sherry’s.” She says my sister’s name like it tastes bad on her tongue. Sherry’s mom was wife number two, right before my mom, so there’s always been a bit of bad blood there, not to mention the fact that Sherry used to steal money from my mom’s purse when she was over and never once copped to it. But my mom has never let that color her affection for Felicity.
I nod, knowing my mom is right about Thanksgiving with Sherry, and if I can avoid my sister and her boyfriend under any circumstances, I tend to do just that. But I don’t want to commit to dinner yet, and I definitely don’t want to tell my mom why. So I try dodging the question.
“I just talked to Felicity this morning. She said she’s narrowed her college choices down to about twelve places now, and she’s looking into being adopted by her friend’s mom.” I’m only half joking.
“Well, I’m not surprised. She’s so creative and smart—and I’d want to be adopted too if I were her. It would also solve your problem about the house.” She says, taking a seat on the sofa next to Morris.
“There’s no problem about the house. Why do you think I’d be fixing it up only to turn around and sell it to someone who’s planning on tearing it down?”
She puts her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying.” As if that’s an explanation for anything. I glance over at Morris, but he’s no help. He’s got his sudoku book on his lap and is shaking his head at me without even having the decency to look me in the eye. “Anyway, will you be RSVPing for one or two?”
You know, I saw this coming, yet I still dragged my ass over here. I give deflection one more go.
“What’s with this RSVP thing? Isn’t it just going to be you and Morris?”
She nods, brushing some nonexistent lint from her sweatpants. “And Brandon and Rayna. And a couple friends of theirs I haven’t met yet, but I think their names are Tim and Helen.”
“Ted and Haley?” I think the veins in my forehead are in danger of rupturing.
“Yes. That’s what I said. Ted and Haley.”
I close my eyes to give myself a moment and then start again with a more agreeable tone. “Don’t they have families?” Okay, forget the agreeable part.
Her brows snap together. “Well, that’s rude. Brandon said Rayna’s parents are snowbirding in Florida, and I don’t know about Tad and Hermione because I haven’t met them yet. Would you like me to call them up and invade their privacy with a bunch of insensitive personal questions?” She leans back on the couch and crosses her legs, knowing she’s pulled out a clear victory on this one.
I sigh. “No.”
Her lips curve. “So. One or two?”
“Is tomorrow too late to RSVP?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
JILL
“Are you sure that cat’s not sick or something?” Zeb ashes his cigarette on the newly stained deck, and I have to bite my tongue really hard not to yell at him.
I follow his gaze to the sliding glass door where Lollipop the cat is hissing at us from the other side with both paws splayed on the glass and his face pressed so close his breath is fogging up the window. “No. I’m pretty sure that’s just his personality.”
Zeb nods, accepting my answer at face value and taking another drag on his cigarette. I try not to cough when the breeze brings his exhaled smoke to my chair. The disturbing thought that I’m breathing in air that was just in this stranger’s lungs hits me, and my stomach lurches. What am I doing?
My inner voice chimes in. “This is what happens when you shove your feelings down in the trash compactor of your soul and let anger guide the way. You are essentially a large child with a killer rack at this point.”
I can’t argue, but I also can’t turn back because I just heard the front door open and close. Here goes nothing.
“Gimme a cigarette.” I motion to Zeb. There’s no time for manners, and he clearly doesn’t mind because he immediately holds his pack of Marlboros out for me to take one. A glance through the glass door reveals nothing but the cat, so I turn back to him. “Do you mind lighting it for me?”
He pulls a cigarette out and puts it between his lips next to the one he’s smoking. I fight a gag reflex and focus on bringing up the playlist I prepared on Spotify earlier today.
Just as Zeb hands me the lit cigarette, a string of curses sounds from inside the house and I see that Lollipop is not at his post anymore. I hit play on my phone and turn the volume up as the opening chords of “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses blares from the surprisingly decent speaker.
Less than five seconds later, Milo pulls on the door handle with a fuming expression, and—I could not have planned this any better—the door sticks with only a few inches cleared.
I suppress my laugh and gesture to the door, pretending I don’t see his expression. “You’ve got to be gentle, or it sticks,” I shout over Axl’s vocals.
Milo’s face gets even redder as he closes the door and opens it more slowly this time. Then his eyes bounce from me, to Zeb, to the two beers on the table, to me again, then to the cigarette dangling from my fingers, then back to me. “Do you mind telling me what the hell is in my kitchen taking a shit on my floor?”
“Oh.” I nod and take a quick pull on the cigarette, forcing myself not to cough before continuing, “That’s Lollipop. I got him from your friend, Haley. She said nobody would adopt him for some reason, so I told her you’d take him.” I turn to Zeb and shrug. “We’ve all gotta do our part, right?”