Page 552 of Lodestar

I liked my diamanté cat statue but only the real deal made her laugh so that made them worth the ten pairs of socks they’d destroyed, myStar Trekcouch they’d shredded to fuck, and the weird stench of cat litter that permeated the guest bath.

I guessed that was how I knew how much love I had for my kid—the destruction was worth the giggles.

As I spooned too many scoops of ice cream into the blender, Paddy walked in, looking like a disheveled and plumper version of my da.

I was gradually getting accustomed to how disconcerting that was. I didn’t remember that being a thing when he was younger, or maybe it was just me implanting that imagery over him.

Either way, I waved a hand at the blender. “Want a milkshake?”

He scratched his chin. “I’d prefer a beer.”

I tipped my head at Kat. “Nope.”

Though he heaved a sigh, he nodded. “What flavors you got?”

“I ain’t a freakin’ ice cream parlor, Paddy. I have vanilla, vanilla, and vanilla.”

Kat popped up at my side. “There’s cookie dough in the fridge.” She beamed at me and Paddy shared some of that smile by proxy. “Hi, Uncle Paddy!” she chirped. “How’s your back?”

“Umm, my back?”

“Grandma Lena was saying to Aunty Savannah that you’ve got a big zit on it.”

My brows lifted. “How the hell does she know you’ve got a zit on your back?”

Paddy flushed. “I showed it to her.”

“Why?”

He pulled on his collar. “I thought it was shingles.”

“Shingles?” I repeated blandly.

“I get them every couple years.” He scowled at me. “What is this, the Inquisition?”

“What’s the Inquisition, Conor?”

“It’s where these douches asked a lot of questions and did some bad stuff to people who didn’t deserve it to force them to answer. And it happened for centuries, too.”

“Did the douches kill them?” she asked solemnly.

“They did.”

“Then, I think that’s hyperbolic of you, Uncle Paddy.”

“Hyper-what? I don’t have high blood sugar, kid.”

Katina peeked at me, silently asking, ‘Is this guy for real?’

“Not everyone’s reading at your level, Kat.”

“But he’s old.”

“Hey!” Paddy huffed. “Why is it when I come anywhere near you, the sprog, or Star, I leave with a complex?”

“She’s right. You are a drama queen. How’s the zit?”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “Thank you for asking.”

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