Page 9 of Salace

“Excuse me?”

“You have to stop drinking, Mom.” Aimee draws her knees to her chest and rests her forehead on them. “It’s a problem. You’re way out of control. Like, you can’t even stay sober long enough to drive me home.”

I glance at the stemless glass of wine on the end table and mentally tally how much I’ve consumed today. It’s notthatbad. “I’m not drunk. I could have driven you home.”

Aimee’s head snaps up. “You literally polished off an entire bottle of wine while we watched a movie.”

I wave a hand through the air. “You worry too much.”

“Mom, if you can’t stop, Dad’s not going to let me come over anymore. He will revoke your visitation. Who’s going to clean? Make sure the bills are paid? Who’s going to make sure you’re not drowning in a pile of your own puke?”

“Aimee!” I shout. “You make it sound like I can’t function, yet look, here I am carrying on a conversation with you just fine. You don’t pay the bills, you neatly stack them on my desk. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Cause you won’t even open them! You just toss them in the garbage when they arrive.”

“I do no such thing and I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating.”

She glares at me. “I’m not insinuating anything, Mom. You’re a drunk and you’re unstable. That’s not insinuation. That’s fact. Simple observation.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. Raucous and loud. Maybe a smidge deranged-sounding even.

“I think you need to go back to therapy. I’ll find a counselor for you this time, as I don’t think whomever your father picked out did a very good job.”

The knock at the door startles us both. Mac turns the knob and walks in without waiting, which pisses me off instantly.

“You can’t just walk in. This isn’t your house,” I snap while pushing to my feet. My head spins slightly.

Mac chuckles. The chuckle that makes his solid chest and shoulders heave and his eyes crinkle and I’m irritated that I still find him attractive. “Technically, babe, it is still my house. I’m still on the deed.”

I sigh, exasperated. “Don’t gaslight me. You know exactly what I mean.”

He nods. “I do. Aimee you ready?”

My head swivels to my daughter. Her long lanky frame pushes off the couch. She nods and gives her dad a smile that screamsrelief. Relief from what?Me?Teenagers are a pain in the ass.

Aimee waves as she walks past me and tucks herself under her fathers outstretched arm. I cross mine over my chest. Nobody likes a Daddy’s Girl. The door clicks shut behind them and I’m alone in the house. I crack open another bottle of wine and curl up on the couch to watch some Netflix. At nine, the lights automatically dim. I hate that. Mac set up some smart home bullshit that gently reminds you to wind down cause it’s near bedtime.His bedtime. I don’t know how to change the setting, so now I’m stuck every night with lights that auto dim at nine p.m.

I hardly hear it at first. I must have dozed off. The knock at the door. I rub my eyes and get up. The dim lights don’t help anything. I glance around wondering if Aimee left something that she needs for school tomorrow, but only see one of those godawful ‘shackets’ on the back of a kitchen stool. It doesn’t look like Aimee’s, though. I swing the door open before I think to ask who it is. Kasey stands on the stoop smiling at me.

“Sorry it’s so late,” he says.

I find myself grinning. Straightening out my hair and rumpled shirt. “Kasey. Hi. No worries. What’s up?” I ask. He shuffles his feet and rubs his bare arms. The temperature drops off swiftly after sunset. “Here, come in.”

He steps into the house and waits for me to close the door.

“I left my jacket here. I was just coming to grab it.”

I lick my lips as he drops his hands from his cut biceps to his sides.

“I wondered who that belonged too. Come on. It’s over here.”

On our way to the kitchen he says, “Did I interrupt something?”

“What? No. Why would you say that?” I ask.

Kasey shrugs. “The lights. I dunno, looks like mood lighting.”

I laugh at that.Mood lighting. I don’t even remember what mood lighting even means at this stage in my life. We reach for his jacket at the same time. His fingers land on top of mine. I freeze with a sharp inhale. His thumb sweeps across my knuckles. His pupils dilate. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as he takes a step closer.

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