Page 30 of Delay of Game
“So, if I let you help around my house, I stop you from spoiling Mila?”
“She’s already spoiled,” I admitted. “You’re curtailing future spoiling.”
She inhaled. “Fine. I’ll take your charity. Labor only. I’m not taking your money.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. What about tools?”
“You don’t want to use my tool kit?” Her eyes flitted to the flimsy pink monstrosity she set down beside her purse.
“Is there a drill in there? Or a sander?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll bring over a toolbox tomorrow.” I drew a line down the sheet of paper, my name on one side, Astrid’s on the other. “You’re taking care of the wasps’ nest, right?”
She pursed her lips, and I added a third box at the bottom of the sheet entitled “Other,” writing “Wasp’s nest” under it.
“Alright, the wasp nest can wait. How about for tonight, you show me around?”
Mom waited up. The lights in the front entryway burned brightly and a faint blue glow emanated from the living room. I took a breath, kicking off my sneakers and mentally preparing myself for the deluge of questions.
How was your night? Where have you been? What were you doing up past midnight?
“Rob?” she called.
I pulled my coat off before she shuffled into the hallway. Her hair was matted in the back, eyes heavy, and there was an indent that cut across her cheek, the same texture as the piping on the living room throw pillows.
“Hey.” I leaned close and kissed her cheek. “Why are you still awake?”
“I wasn’t.” She yawned, stretching her hands overhead. “I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to get home. How was your night?”
“Good.” I yawned back, the scent of whiskey still on my breath.
She clocked the smell, a sly smile forming on her face. “Just good? It’s late. Did you go out?”
I shook my head. No use lying about that. “Nah, I stopped by Astrid’s and helped her knock out a few things on her to-do list.”
The faint glimmer of hope in her eyes made my stomach turn. “And you stayed there past midnight?”
“Rewiring the bathroom. It was a death trap.”
Mom’s face fell. “But with Gracie at least?”
“I let her flip breakers.”
Astrid hung around while I blundered my way through the repairs. She handed me tools, didn’t tell me to stop swearing, and brought snacks without trying to rope me into conversation. The entire evening had been surprisingly pleasant. Amiable. Friendly.
“Well, I suppose that’s a start…” Mom said without much conviction. “You know, you could have invited her out for dinner. Or drinks. You didn’t have to just hang around her place.”
“Have you seen the house lately? She needs it gone, and no realtor in their right mind would take it now.”
“Oh.” Her face clouded as she searched for another way to get me to ask Astrid out.
I railroaded her with a hug.
“I’m beat. See you in the morning,” I said, retreating upstairs, away from more questions.
I stopped by Mila’s room, cracking open the door. She laid on top of her covers, a cadre of stuffed animals surrounding her and the light on. I pulled a blanket out from under her legs andcovered her up, turning off the light before I snuck out of the room.
