Page 124 of The Manny

“Don’t cry. I love you, Uncle Jack,” she whispered.

I cleared my throat, and said hoarsely, “I love you too, Mia. I’m glad you came to live with me.”

“Really?” She blinked at me.

“Yep.”

She kissed my cheek, and then said, “You taste salty!”

I laughed. “Do I?” I wiped my face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She patted my head and crawled from my lap.

I stood and tucked the covers around her, feeling drained emotionally. Our conversation had been enlightening, yet painful. I couldn’t say I’d enjoyed the experience, but I did feel like a weight had been lifted in a way.

“Sweet dreams,” I said softly, gazing down at her. She looked angelic wrapped in her pink sheets, her hair like a cloud of spun gold. I didn’t believe in spiritual things really. But I couldn’t help feeling like Jules had reached out to me tonight through Mia, trying to comfort me.

“Night, Uncle Jack.”

I turned off the light and left her room. I went into the living room, where I sat on the couch in the dark. My conversation with Mia spun around in my head. I’d have loved to have a good stiff drink, but Thomas wasn’t here. I needed to be sober to make sure Mia was taken care of properly. I had a headache beginning, and I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the couch.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was waking up with a stiff neck. The house was silent, and I wondered if Thomas was back yet. I glanced at my watch, noticing it was after 3:00 a.m. Blowing out a tired breath, I stood and made my way toward the hallway. Movement through the glass window beside the front door caught my eye, and I stopped walking.

The sound of Thomas laughing on the front porch caught my attention. Frowning, I crossed the distance to the door. I peeked out the peephole, and could just make out the distorted shapes of two people. I already knew one of them was Thomas, so the other person had to be his date?

A surge of jealousy rose up in me so fiercely, it took my breath away. I steadied myself against the door, trying to control the urge to yank the door open and yell at them. Thomas was laughing again, and I heard the low murmur of a strange male voice.

Gritting my teeth, I looked out the peephole again. I felt nauseous when I saw they were kissing, arms wrapped around each other, hips grinding together. I stepped back from the peephole, as if it had burned me.

Looks like I’ve been replaced.

“That didn’t take long,” I mumbled, feeling frustrated and angry. Really though, what had I expected? Thomas had tried to stay close to me, and I’d shoved him away. I’d given in to my fear of getting hurt, and he’d moved on. That was a good thing, right? So then, why did I feel like puking at the sight of him kissing some other guy? Maybe because I’d been struggling to move on myself?

I’d been going to Brannigan’s with the guys regularly, praying someone enticed me enough to sleep with them. But so far, no luck. I’d kissed a few guys, and even come close to going home with one guy. But ultimately, I didn’t want them. I wanted Thomas. I craved Thomas’s taste and scent. I wanted to feel his lean, naked body against mine again so much it hurt. But I’d made sure he had no idea how much I struggled, by ignoring him.

That’s probably why his tongue is down that other guy’s throat right now.

Something bumped the door and when I peered out, all I could see was the other guy’s head pressed against the peephole. Jesus, were they going to fuck each other up against my damn front door? Anger jolted through me again, and without thinking it through, I grabbed the handle and jerked the door open.

“Hey,” I growled. “If you’re going to act like a couple of horny teenagers, at least get off my porch.”

The guy, who’d been leaning on the door, almost fell inside. Thomas grabbed his date’s arm, saving him from landing on his ass. “Jesus,” the guy grumbled, glaring at me. “Warn a guy before you open the door, would ya?”

I narrowed my eyes, scowling. “How about you go make out somewhere else?”

Thomas looked embarrassed, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glittering. He raked a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Sorry, Jack.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The guy frowned. “Who cares if grandpa doesn’t like us kissing?”

Grandpa? I wasn’t that much older than them.

“Excuse me?” I snarled.

“Well, is this really any of your business?” The guy laughed gruffly. “What are you, the make-out police or something?”

“Are you for real?” I chuffed. “This ismyfucking front porch, buddy.”

“So?”

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