Page 79 of For The Weekend
I cup the back of her head. “I’m happy to do it.”
“I know you are.” She laughs a bit sadly, and I hate it. “And I appreciate it, but it feels different coming from someone who loves me, you know?”
I swallow the words down. Hard. “I get it. I just don’t like that you don’t feel supported.”
She shrugs. “I have my friends. Sloane. My chosen family.”
My heart’s in my throat, and I can barely force the words out. “You have me too.”
Her eyes sparkle with a little surprise but even more gratitude. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
Pressing my forehead to hers, I breathe in her cinnamon-and-sugar scent that lingers on her even when she’s not in her bakery, even when we’re sitting outside in the middle of fall with dried leaves all around us. Still. She’s the sweetest, brightest thing in the world.
“Do you and Mazie want to come to my place?” she asks, lifting her head, a small smile gracing her hopeful face. “It’s getting colder, and the sun will start to set soon. I don’t have much to eat, but I do have tomato soup and I make an excellent grilled cheese.”
Without breaking my gaze, I call out, “Hey, Maze!”
“Yeah?”
“You want to go to Eloise’s house for dinner?”
“Fuck yeah!”
Eloise bursts out in a giggle as I stand, rolling my eyes at the scandalized gasps of the other adults around the playground. Waving my troublemaking daughter over, I take her hand. “You really gotta knock that shit off.”
“What shit?”
“The fucking cursing, Maze. People are gonna think I’m raising an animal.”
She sticks her finger in the air with an idea. “What animal? A butterfly? Or chipmunk? Or penguin?”
“Rat,” I say, meeting Eloise by the edge of the park, her purse over her shoulder as she digs through it for her keys.
“A rat?” Mazie makes a face. “Rats aren’t cute. I wanna be a bunny.”
“Be whatever the fuck you want, just stop cursing.” I openthe door to Eloise’s building for her and Mazie. Eloise’s apartment is on the second floor, but instead of taking the elevator, we hike up the staircase. Mazie loves the fall wreath hanging on Eloise’s door, and she flies inside when Eloise unlocks it.
Since I didn’t get much of a look last time I was here, too obsessed with giving her an orgasm, I study the place. It’s not huge, but it’s nice. Her pink cruiser rests against the far wall, and Mazie goes right over to it, patting the basket on the front before asking Eloise, “Can I see your bathroom?”
Eloise laughs and points to the door in the hall. “Sure. It’s right down there.”
Mazie makes a beeline, and I shrug when Eloise turns her questioning gaze on me. “I don’t know. She likes toilets and soap.”
I take off my boots, afraid to somehow mess up her obvious aesthetic by keeping them on. The living room is cozy, with plush pink blankets and pillows, a fluffy white rug, and a bookshelf filled with books and knickknacks.
There are framed pictures on the walls, including one of a young Eloise and Sloane, probably in high school. There’s also one of her holding a huge cake that looks like it could feed a small army. When Mazie’s finished inspecting whatever-the-hell in the bathroom, she meets me in front of the picture. She points to it and asks Eloise, “Did you make that?”
“I did,” Eloise says.
Mazie’s jaw drops. “It’s huge! Can I have some?”
“That one’s all gone, but I can make you another one sometime.”
My kid’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“Really,” Eloise confirms, and Mazie squeals, running over to hug her, accidentally knocking into a small table so the flowerpot on top wobbles. The pot’s got a pair of boobs painted on it, and Mazie snickers.
