Page 155 of Terror Tuesday
“Welcome to our home,” I tell her.
“It’s lovely to meet you, um, Cal.” She speaks so eloquently. Practiced and trained.
I wave her into the far room, where I already see Vera sifting through music books as if she’s choosing something to strike a chord. “My wife’s in here, and she’s been dying to meet you.”
Valen takes her hand and leads her there, casting me a small glance. I wink at him and give a nod of approval.
When we enter, my wife tosses her auburn hair over a shoulder and stands, hands folded in front of her belly. “Why, hello.”
My son snorts until I shove him in the back with my elbow.
“Um, Olivia, this is my mom. You can call her Veracity.”
Olivia gives her the same sweet greeting as my wife’s green eyes grow wide when she catches my gaze. I know what she’s thinking. This girl is polished, refined…
How my son, who barely left his room until a couple of years ago, one that always stunk of gym socks, moldy leftovers, and stale beer, ever grabbed her… Beyond me.
I think he took his cousin Adal’s advice on weightlifting. His muscles must’ve worked on her. I should probably work out.
But I’m not going to.
“I think the chef will have some food,” I inform them.
Valen rolls his eyes. “Good stuff or…yourstuff, Dad?”
“Regular, normal, healthy, natural foods.”
“Those words don’t go together,” he argues.
My wife waves toward the piano keys to interrupt us, changing the subject. “I was just going to practice this piano, but I heard you come in. Would you like to sit and eat now, or play some billiards?” It’s so fucking cute. She must think that rich people all play the game. She’s trying so hard.
Valen pulls his girl in front of him and gives her a squeeze.
Olivia swallows. “Oh, you have a pool table? I don’t think I’ve ever played. That sounds fun.”
Valen tugs her toward the back hallway, and Vera grumbles to me under her breath. “I thought they all played pool… Do they not?”
Grimacing, I brush some of her hair over her shoulder. “I guess not.”
“Well…that’s just…disappointing.”
I snag her before we enter the room and press my lips to her ear until she sucks in a deep breath. “You’re doing fine. You’re safe. I got you.”
She wraps her arms around me and presses her face into my chest, then nods. It’s difficult to hear her mumbled voice, muted by my sweater, but I think she says,I love you.
“And I love you.”
When she takes a step back, she takes my hand with her. “I don’t think I can do this seven more times.”
I shrug. “So itistwins, then.”
She smirks but doesn’t respond. Only gives me some flirty eyes. Enough so that I follow her into the billiards room.
My son’s showing Olivia the ropes on how to hold the stick, angle for the best shot, and helps her bucket her first ball. She slaps his hand in victory, grinning.
We start a game of four, and as it progresses, Vera gets less nervous. And I think Olivia does, too.
Until my phone buzzes in my pocket.
