Page 11 of Not Your Shoe Size

She looked up, her eyes fixing on something high above his forehead. “So…don’t get mad or think it means anything because I was a kid and it didn’t count, but I used to want to marry this guy who drove me to school.”

Ty’s face felt wooden. “Okay.”

“Please don’t take this seriously!”

“I’m not,” he lied as his guts rearranged themselves.

“You are.” Kate’s cheeks flushed darker. “I can see you taking it seriously.”

“I’m fine,” Ty said stubbornly. “The guy drove your school bus?”

“Yes…well, no. It wasn’t an official school bus. Mr. Peterson was a surfie. He had a van, you know, for his boards, and he took a bunch of us to school with his daughter because there wasn’t any public transport. All our parents paid him to do it. That’s how we became friends. Or knew each other, I guess. It wasn’t a big deal. For me, or, Mr. Peterson.”

Ty hated the way she said his name, casting her eyes down the way she used to when she said ‘Mr. Henderson,’ back when they worked together. “He was a dad from your school?”

“Yeah, you know I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned him before.”

“Mmm,” Ty said. No, she hadn’t. He’d have remembered. If not the name, then the way she said it. But why would she lie?

“So yeah,” Kate said. “It was just a kid thing. Nothing important. I just forgot I wanted to marry him, is all.”

Ty’s stomach twisted up like barbed wire. He could just picture a bug-eyed baby Middleton gazing in admiration at some shaggy surfer asshole. “He flirt with you?”

“No! He was just friendly. We talked about books and school. He never knew I had a crush on him!”

Ty doubted that. There were few people who didn’t know when they were being crushed on, and he doubted pubescent Kate had been subtle. She’d been blatantly fucking obvious at the age twenty-five. No, this Peterson guy had known exactly how buttered his bread was, the cunt. Still, the defensive lift to Kate’s chin said pointing that out was a bad idea. “Was he married?”

“Yeah.” Kate’s gaze flicked up the ceiling. “But we weren’t that close. We just talked to each other in the van.”

“About what?”

“Books. Surfing. Whatever Mr. Peterson working on—he was an electrician and…”

She called him Mr. Peterson, an evil voice whispered.But what she wanted was to call him Daddy. You know she did. She wanted him to be her daddy. Her first daddy. Heronlydaddy. She wanted to marry him.

“…so, he kind of got me into engineering,” Kate said from somewhere far away. “Anyway, it’s ancient history. It doesn’t matter.”

My hole it doesn’t matter.Ty sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “So you sat next to him? In the van?”

“Yes.”

“And you wanted to marry him?”

Kate shifted in her seat. “Yes. No. It was more like I wanted to be close to him, and back then I thought that was the only way to get close to boys.”

“So youwereinterested in him sexually?”

Kate’s mouth thinned. “Ty, maybe we shouldn’t do this?”

A solid idea, but he was in too deep to stop now. “Did you want to call him Daddy?”

Kate shook her head so vigorously, her chopsticks clattered against her bowl, spraying yet more soy sauce across the table. “I didn’t know any of that stuff about myself yet. I barely knew what sex was.”

“But you had a crush on Mr…this guy?”

“Yeah, because he was nice to me.”

“Why did that matter?”

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