Page 70 of Stuck With You
She cocks her hip, her hand landing on top as if she’s loading a weapon. I do not need whatever is coming.
She leans into me. “Look around,” she whispers forcefully as if she’s hit her limit.
I glance around the sparse space with a couch and a rocking recliner. A small collection of toys is scattered about the floor, and a stack of books sits on the corner of the fireplace.
“She was riding the bus. She clearly doesn’t have any family locally. You’re really gonna make those two kids live out of a hotel for however long it takes for the city to get someone out here?”
She stares at me, reaching down to pet Grover with one hand while she waits for an answer. I remain silent, not giving her the satisfaction of her guilt trip.
“That’s what I thought.” She points at me. “Now, put your Polly Pissy attitude away and get ready to have some fun. It’s been way too long, Stone Cold. Whether you will ever admit it or not, you need this. You have to see that there’s life outside the black hole you’ve been living in. It’s time to step into the sun and see that good things can happen, even to a crusty old crab like you.”
She spins as if this is the end of the conversation, but stops and turns back. “And don’t think for one second you’re going to just live at the garage these next few days. You will be a present and a hospitable host.” She grins. “Looks like we’ll finally have a dog.”
She turns for the kitchen while I inhale deeply and let it out. Grover stares up at me, his ears perked.
“If you shit in my house . . .”
His butt pops off the floor, nudging his nose at my hand, his tail wagging.
“Who wants to have a sleepover?” Krissy asks in the kitchen.
“Me!” Oliver yells.
I join the crowd in the kitchen. All three guys are huddled near the back door, avoiding direct eye contact, but the fatass smirks on their faces tells me they think this is fucking hilarious.
Carson risks it and points at himself, makes a heart shape with his hands over his chest, and then points at me.
I glare at him, making it very clear that the next time we are out of the presence of women and children, I will knock that grin right off his pretty boy face.
They snicker, and Krissy sits to make grand plans with Oliver and Frankie.
Sarah leans against the counter, her face down, scrolling on her phone.
I take a deep breath, feeling a little dizzy and like I’ve lost my damn mind. “You should gather whatever you’ll need for the next few days.” It comes out low and weak. “We’ll help you carry it over.”
Sarah’s head pops up, her eyes wide. “Uh . . . Um . . . I . . .”
I’m glad I’m not the only one having trouble with this.
“M-m-mama, can we s-stay with Swade and Kissy?” Oliver stands on his chair.
Sarah’s eyes flick to mine again as if she’s asking if I’m for real.
My gut squeezes tight, and I clear my throat. “What do you think about heading over and watching some football?”
Krissy grins, and I’d really like to flip her off.
“I d-d-don’t know how to p-play football?” Oliver’s chin dips.
“That’s all right, little man,” Carson says. “Get your shoes on. We’ll eat pizza and teach you.”
Oliver looks at Sarah, and she offers him a small smile. He jumps off the chair, and Krissy unhooks Frankie from her seat.
“We can take the kids over while you pack,” Krissy says as if this is one big slumber party.
Sarah inhales and lets it out as if she, too, is surrendering. Her eyes meet mine again.
Krissy said I need this. What I need is baby steps. Not this woman moving into my house, where our lives fully intertwine.
