Page 74 of The Kiss Principle

“You little shit,” I breathed.

Augustus grinned, and then he broke up laughing at whatever his pet dinosaur said. When he’d recovered, he said, “It’s a long story; I’ll tell you tonight. Are you going to be okay if I’m here a couple of weeks?”

“He’s not staying for two weeks,” I said loudly. “He’s not staying at all. Period.”

More of that fucking eye-rolling. “I love you too. Hold on, I’ll tell him. Theo says he loves you.”

Theo’s voice sounded tinny—and wry—on the phone’s speaker. “Hi, Fer.”

“If he loves me so much,” I asked, “why doesn’t he get one of those lockable playpens and keep you from—”

“Bye, babe,” Augustus said into the phone. “I love you.”

“—wandering off. You know, the kind people get so their kids can’t escape.”

“That’s called a cage.”

“Exactly, why doesn’t he buy that?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on? Or are we going to spend two agonizing weeks with me trying to worm it out of you?”

I snorted.

“How about four weeks?” Something must have shown on my face because he said, “I work from home, bitch, and Theo’s the most responsible human in the world. Want to make it six?”

“Did you call me bitch?”

“Remember that time I nagged you until you told me all my Christmas presents?”

“That time? It’s every fucking year!”

To hide his grin, he ducked his head and booped Igz on the nose. She was still smiling at him, which tells you something about loyalty and the next generation. “All right. It’s going to be a long eight weeks.”

My line was to say something likeEight weeks? In eight weeks, you’ll have drained every pecker from here to the Castro. And Augustus would laugh, and I’d pretend to get angrier, and eventually, the question itself would be buried under the drift of our bullshit. But this time, I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

Augustus looked up, and they were my Augustus’s eyes, the one I’d raised. And at the same time, they weren’t. They were more mature. They were…wiser. Wiser, I thought with a hint of manic despair. I’m about to ask the same kid for advice who went through an entire bottle of Jergens the week he discovered jerking off.

The words slipped out of me before I let myself think about them. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

He furrowed his brow. His knee, still bouncing Igz, slowed. His smile was a trembling question mark like he was waiting for the punchline.

“Never mind,” I said.

His smile slipped. “Fer.”

“Like you’d know.” I tried to force my voice toward normalcy. “Good Christ, you’re the one shacked up with a living museum exhibit. They could make some weird porn out of it. ‘The Driest Dick: The Legend of Pharaoh’s Boner.’”

Augustus watched me and then shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Something about the Nile and lube.”

“Fer,” he said, and there was so much authority behind it that for a moment, I forgot this was the same kid who’d reeked of Jergens. He stopped bouncing Igz, laid her against his chest, andmet my gaze. “I love you. I think you’re wonderful. What do you mean, is there something wrong with you?”

“He said I do this because I want to do it. Mom, I mean. And Chuy. Dealing with their shit. He said I don’t let myself have more. I don’t let myself be happy.” And I’m not happy, I thought. It was the first time I’d expressed that thought to myself so clearly, but there it was. I’m not happy. And I’m lonely. And I want more. I might have even said that to Augustus, but by then, my throat had closed up, and I couldn’t get anything out.

“Fer,” Augustus whispered. “Oh my God.” He scooted over and, even though I tried to elbow him off, gave me a one-armed hug. I didn’t break down crying—thank. fucking. god—but Augustus’s hair did get a little wet.

When he finally released me, I ran both hands over my face and shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said, but my voice was gravelly. “It’s been a lot lately.”

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