Page 64 of Elusion

“Ew, Jordan. Put a shirt on.”

I lean over and retrieve one from my bag. “Why aren’t you asleep in your room?”

“Cal lets me sleep in here when she’s home.”

I narrow my eyes, doubting her story. She squints back, daring me to challenge her. Stubbornness runs in Callie’s genes. I put my shirt on, and Cate beams, proud to win. She makes herself comfortable and wraps her little arms around one of mine.

“Goodnight.”

Within two minutes, she’s sideways on the other side of the bed, snoring. I continue playing on my phone until Callie returns. She shakes her head on the way over. “Sorry. I’ll move her. Just prepare yourself; she’s going to scream.”

I get up and catch her hand, yanking her toward me. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“Jordan, you don’t have to do that.”

I kiss her, tucking her wet hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing in the world I would rather do.”

One of my eyes peeks open.

“Hi,” Cate says, her nose almost touching mine. She brings a finger to her mouth. “Shh. Cal’s asleep.”

I scrunch my eyes shut and reach up above me, knocking my phone off the nightstand. Seven. I roll over onto my back and stretch, yawning. Oh, the familiar ache in my back from sleeping on a floor. One day, I’ll sleep in a bed with Callie.

One day. I hope.

“I’m bored,” she whispers louder than necessary. She flops down next to me and puts her hands behind her head.

“Well, what should we do?” I whisper back.

She sits right back up, her eyes huge. “Make breakfast.”

Cate jumps to her feet. I fold up the blankets and stack them with the pillows at the end of the bed. Callie’s asleep on her side, her hair a tangled mess over her face. I brush it away and kiss her cheek before I track down Cate.

By make breakfast, she means play dress-up and pretend to eat food. An old blue bathrobe, a giant pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and a smoking pipe make up my costume. She chooses to wear her pink robe but can’t find another pair of glasses. To avoid a meltdown, I suggest a pair of swim goggles.

In the hunt for appropriate reading material, she stumbles across a photo album. Connor helped her with it after she tried to build a wall like Callie’s, using gum to stick up the pictures. Out of all the photos, not a single one in her book includes their parents. Birthdays, holidays, all the other special occasions, they never once appear. I wonder whether they weren’t there or were purposely left out.

From what I gather, Lauren’s absence is a frequent occurrence. She parties with people her daughter’s age while her daughter cares for her children. If not for Callie sacrificing her free weekends, Connor would watch Cate all the time, unable to do much of anything else.

All dressed up, I brew coffee. Cate disappears for a while, and upon her return, she insists we sit down to enjoy the home-cooked meal she spent her morning slaving away over at the stove. Naturally, I read the paper and smoke my pipe. She looks through her comic book, and we have a polite conversation as if we were straight out of a fifties’ sitcom.

I shake out my month-old newspaper. “Well, my dear, Sport and Kitten should be down for breakfast soon.”

She giggles. “They’d better hurry, or they’ll be late for school.”

“Would you like me to drop them off on my way to the office?”

“That would be nice.” She sighs, resting her chin on her hand. “I need to mop the floors again.”

“Very well,” I say, pushing a pretend plate toward her. “Would you like more ham?”

From the kitchen doorway, Callie laughs, and I glance over.

“What the hell, Cate?” Connor elbows his way past her into the room. “You can’t just strip away a guy’s masculinity as soon as he walks through the door. You have to build up to embarrassing him like this.”

I toss down my pipe and fold up the newspaper. “I’m not wearing a pink ballerina tutu, holding a doll and watchingSwan Lake, so I’m going to say I’m ahead in the masculinity department.”

Connor glares. “Cate showed you the photo album?”

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