Page 92 of Until Tomorrow
“They’re supposed to take a beating!” I exclaimed. “That’s why I name them all after old ladies. They can take it as good as they can give.”
“Agatha isn’t some horny old lady in need of young dick to rock her world,” he retorted. “Agatha is an old lady with a fear of people and brittle bones. You treat her with some goddamn respect, young man. She needs a special touch—gentle and firm. Take control and show her who’s daddy.”
“Oh, Jesus fuck.” I busted out laughing. “I can’t be some old lady’s daddy.”
“Pretend Agatha is an old man and show him who’s daddy,” he corrected, making me laugh harder. “Whatever the fuck it takes for you to stop mistreating these damn trucks.”
He grumbled some more nonsense that I couldn’t understand while I lay there pondering the predicament he’d put me in. The idea of finding someone to call me daddy sounded way more appealing than finding someone to date.
Taking Rhett’s advice, I locked myself in my office that afternoon with my phone and that stupid man’s dare hanging over my head. I could’ve just lied and said it wasn’t going well, but that wasn’t me. And I did need to move on with my life. I refused to be eighty and still pining after my married best friend.
I flipped through my phone until I pulled up the app store and foundTumblewith its falling hearts and soft colors. As far as appearances, it looked like any other dating app, but shit, I spent a good thirty minutes trying to fill out my profile. They covered everything under the goddamn sun. I half-expected them to ask me my gross income and what school I attended when I was five.
All in all, by the time I was done, it was a great profile. I looked fantastic on the app, and why shouldn’t I? I was a goddamn catch. But my heart still wasn’t in it, which was when I exited the app and focused on work.
Chapter 47
Logan
WhenEvawokeupand saw me at the island waiting for her, the surprise on her face was worth it. I had her coffee made, a legitimate breakfast waiting for her, and a full day planned for us. And she knew none of it.
“You know, if you keep taking off work, you’re going to lose your job,” she commented as she sat next to me.
“What’s the point in having accumulated all my days off if I never use them?” I countered. “I also have an obscene amount of sick days as well.”
This year was the first time I was utilizing my vacation time. In all my years at the firm, I rarely took time off—something that was no longer a point of pride. I’d missed out on a lot of time with my wife in the name of work.
“As long as it doesn’t affect your work,” Eva replied. She took a long sip of her coffee, sighing with satisfaction in a way that made me smile.
“My time off was approved, my clients are taken care of, and I have a whole plan for us today,” I told her. That last part gave her pause. Leaning close, I kissed her temple. “Day dates are absolutely an acceptable way to date my wife.”
“You planned that awfully fast,” she murmured, and I smiled. “You look proud of yourself.”
I was. I threw out our old playbook and started from scratch. Dating her all over again meant doing right by who we were now, and honestly, trying to come up with something new had been a blast.
“Eat up, honey,” I said. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
I took her to one of those pottery painting places, except this one specialized in kids’ birthdays. That meant instead of doing bowls or pots or mugs or something, we were about to paint a fuck ton of little clay statues. And I did mean a fuck ton because I rented out the place and pretty much bought every little statue they had. The staff didn’t know what to do with me when I called. We had approval for wine and snacks and whatever music we wanted.
“I don’t know!” Eva exclaimed. She set her phone down and sighed. “It’s such a big choice.”
“It’s a music playlist, honey,” I replied, chuckling. She sat at the biggest table they had, trying to figure out what music to play, while I moved every little statue they had to the table for us to paint.
“It sets the whole mood!”
“And if we don’t like the mood, then we can change it.” I shrugged. I held up three tiny statues for her to see. “Look at the tiny dragons.”
“The dragons!” She squealed and held out her hands for them, wiggling her fingers. That bright smile that lit up her face was absolutely stunning.So naturally, I loaded our table up with every single dragon in the place until she and I were surrounded by a herd of dragons. Horde of dragons?
“What’s a collection of dragons called?” I asked. I scooted my stool next to hers. Together, we filled plastic plates with puddles of paint. Mine looked like shit—the color would probably be the same as shit by the time I was done because all my colors were bleeding together at the edges. Meanwhile, Eva was meticulous as always with how she divided her colors between numerous plates. She did it so mindlessly, and it fascinated me to no end. So did the way she lined up her paint brushes by size.
And yes, she had multiple paintbrushes. Me? I had one because that was all I’d need, right? My wife was about to show me up in dragon painting, and I was okay with it.More than okay.
“I’m not sure anyone has ever come up with a one-size-fits-all term for it, considering dragons are fictional,” Eva replied. Leaning on the table, she started typing on her phone. Her shoulder bumped mine to get my attention. “See here? We’ve got a thunder of dragons… a flight of dragons… a horde, a flock, a gaggle, a tribe, a clan… this guy here is trying to pass off the term schlong. People on the internet will say all sorts of shit.”
“A schlong of dragons?” I snorted. I poked through the different dragons, trying to decide where to start. We had silly ones, cute ones, serious ones, ones with books, ones with coins, and even one with a cat.Why were there so many kinds of dragons?“And here we have our schlong of dragons.”
“Can you imagine Elliot coming over and we introduce him to our schlong of dragons?” she asked.
