Hey everyone!
So I know I’ve been quiet for a bit, but there’s a good
reason behind that. I’m moving. Ugh. I
try to see the positive in packing up everything into boxes and taking trips
back and forth to the new place, but damn I absolutely hate moving. The new place is like a little dream, but
seriously, I still hate moving.
I would like to clarify that by no means does this mean me
and Dan are on the outs or anything. Because
I knew that question would come up eventually.
Nope. We’re just at that point we
knew would come where we both have new things to look forward to. He’s got a really good man that is whisking
him off to another city and I finally got the condo I’ve been salivating over
for almost two years now.
Although I will miss him terribly and he’s made it clear I will
be using the guest room for their frequent visitations, it is time for my own
place. Trust me, living with two boys
who are into each seems hot, but they are still men and it’s like having two
brothers nagging on you constantly for food or to find their runaway shoes. And I will not miss gym clothes laundry
day. Sorry, D. Love you.
But I will miss James Dean in the bathroom. I lost him in a custody dispute. Pretty sad about that.
Anyway, while we rent out our house to some friends and
become landlords again, I will be moving about 45 minutes away to a condo on
the lake. Oh yes, I said waterfront
property. Okay, it’s not like
millionaire glamorous, but it’s cool and in the historic district and I had the
ultimate hookup from one of my clients.
So I’m feeling blessed right about now because without this person’s
help there is no way on this green earth I could have afforded to live there.
It’s a fixer upper because while it might be in a strict
historic district, the elderly lady who lived there wasn’t into updating the
place and got a bit of leeway due to her health. So I spent the last two weeks removing ducks
in heart basket wallpaper and burgundy carpet.
And then there was the hunter green tile in the kitchen. And let us not forget the posters in her son’s
old bedroom that had been there since about 1994. It was Baywatch bad. No, actually it was worse. I found a fossilized sock in the closet I’m
still trying to forget.
*shivers*
To say I’m remodeling is an understatement, so when I get
the chance to write it’s a huge stress relief these days. Which brings us to this week’s FFF. I didn’t give out a prompt this week and we
might not have any this month because I’m overloaded, but here it is. Thanks for reading. You guys are the best.
Hugs,
Night
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A Nanny Tale: Part 8
It didn’t take long to get rid of my shorts, to be naked on
top of him. After an eternity of wanting
him and not realizing how much I truly did need this since the moment I laid
eyes on him, we were finally together.
Some people say their first sexual experience is to be held in the
highest honor, as if two fumbling teenagers would understand how to pleasure
each other in a way that would outrank any other intimate moment spanning their
lifetime.
I recall being sixteen in my friend’s bedroom, but the details
are fuzzy and perhaps they’re meant to stay that way. This time with Chris, our first time, this is
the experience I’ll treasure forever.
Even if the doubt still has a way of creeping into my thoughts. Even if we slip up and fall and it’s not like
the movies, my heart still pounds like it never has before. My eyes are still wide and trying to take in
every inch of him; every move and every muscle that tightens under my hands
because he wants nothing more than for me to keep touching him.
And while to look at me you wouldn’t think I had a
possessive bone in my body, I want to crawl inside him, to mark him, to cover
him with all of me and claim him as mine.
I want to shelter him from the dark shades of the world that have left
him cowering and trap the man he so desperately is trying to be underneath me
for the rest of our lives.
But he needs to breathe, to stretch his wings, and if I
denied him that… he’d suffocate and resent me forever.
I pull back, kneeling between his legs, caressing his thighs
to find him squirming before me. His
fingers reach for me. I take them in my
hand and kiss every single fingertip, his palm and then his wrist. He pauses to watch me do so, like never in a
thousand years could he fathom a man performing such a precious task.
There’s a lot Chris doesn’t know or he assumes; ideals
embedded deep within his brain that tell him one of us rutting and the other
one submitting is the only masculine way two men can have sex. What was left out of his societal teachings
was just like any other couple, two men desire love and intimacy with or
without sex as much as anyone else. The
same could be said for how we love in the privacy of our own home. No two couples are the same. So why should we have to be?
The only thing that matters is the delivery of the message
and making sure the recipient knows how much they’re cared for.
I bend down to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose where
two little red marks were made from wearing his glasses. I kiss the spot on his jaw where he cut himself
shaving this morning because he was nervous from the minute he woke up. I kiss the scar on his shoulder where he told
me he’d fallen from a tree when he was a teenager. I kiss every spot that makes him human to
remind him he is, in fact, normal and this is okay. This is just us.
His arms encircle my neck, fingers feeling about my hair
until he builds a slow massage that has me practically purring for him. I glance up to find him staring at me
expectantly, waiting for whatever I have planned next. He trusts me to guide tonight. He trusts me enough to allow me whatever I
wish.
But it’s not about what I wish; it’s about him tonight,
about breaking down the final wall of his fortress.
I trace his nipple with the tip of my tongue. Run my hands up his sides, putting emphasis
in the heel of my palms to let him know how much I want this. His answer is a rough moan I didn’t know he
had in him, but its fuel to the fire and the room is growing warmer with every
passing minute.
His mewls of pleasure become broken and half strangled as I
take his hips within my hands and bath his stomach with searing kisses and vigorous
licks. His cock is thick and heavy when
I take it in my hand and stroke it down, pulling the foreskin away from the
slick head. It twitches in my palm, much
like his body does upon releasing all the stored up sexual energy he’s
entrusted me with.
“Logan,” he hisses.
I say nothing.
There’s not a word in the English language that can suffice a reply to
my name rolling off his tongue in the throes of passion. It’s simply enough to know I’m doing this
right. It’s more than enough to hear his
sharp gasp as I take the head of his cock into my mouth and suck the flavor of
him down my throat.
I’ve always loved giving head with willing partners in the
past, but none of them compare to Chris.
To Chris’s engorged dick in my mouth, straining my lips and pressing at
the back of my throat. To each salty
drop of him that glazes the roof of my mouth before my tongue can swipe it
away. To each ridge and vein I want to
memorize like a map to buried treasure.
More than anything, I love sucking on Chris.
The way he begins thrusting into my mouth is unholy; a
fragmented cadence of his hips, that lifts his ass enough for me slither my
hands underneath him and squeeze each fleshy mound with my fingers. His unabashed chant for more as he forgets
himself and gives into me is wicked. I
give him what he wants, what he needs, and take him to the root. My air is gone. My throat relaxes and Chris forges down my throat
only to pull away again with each bob of my head.
Each time he retreats from my mouth, I miss him.
He takes matters into his own hands, squeezes the base of
his cock because we both know he’s near the edge. And with glossy lips, I withdraw from his cock
to peer up at him.
“Logan,” he repeats and it’s all the explanation I
need. He pulls me down on top of him,
kissing me senseless. He wraps his legs
around me once more to be as close as possible.
We roll over one too many times until we’re half off the
bed, breathless and sticky from being stuck together for so long. But it will never be close enough. Not yet anyway. I soothe Chris onto his stomach and run my
hands over his body until he relaxes enough to listen.
“Comfortable?” I whisper in his ear and he nods against the
pillow. “You’ll tell me if it’s too
much?”
He nods again with his eyes screwed shut as if he’s focusing
on the sound of my voice and nothing else.
With his permission, I put a plush pillow under his stomach and guided
him to open his legs wider and draw his knees in. It was a position only a man who trusted me
would take, and with that, I vowed to make this as good as possible for him. He might have had a few guys in the past, but
it was obvious Chris had never been on the bottom before. The fact he automatically wanted to tonight,
made me feel special, and I would spend hours tending to him if he needed
it. I would do anything to make him feel
my… love.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. This is really happening to me. This man and his life had wrapped me up and
choked me with affection until I’d been forced to realize the very thing I was
missing this entire time: him.
With a towel from the floor placed between Chris’s legs, I’m
ready to give him everything he’d been missing too: me. His ass grinds against my hands as I spread
him wide open. His back arches as I encircle his entrance with my thumb,
testing his sensitivity. And oh, did he
like that. He wiggles his ass for me and
I smile, placing a kiss on one cheek and then the other.
I pop the top on the lube and hold it above his
entrance. With one squeeze, the clear
liquid dribbles down his crack, a cold sensation rolling over his backside, and
Chris groans. Soon he allows me the
honor of stretching him open with a single finger, working it in and out until
he whispers, “More.”
A single word had never empowered me like this. His pleasure
in my hands, a work of art in the form of his adult yet inexperienced body
twisting and pushing against me, it is too incredible to describe. To ignite his nerves with delicate touches
and murmur encouragement against his skin is breathtaking. Sheathing my length in latex, taking his hips
in my hands, knowing he has given me this right after all the things he has
been through—no man will ever make me feel as privileged as Chris.
I give him a few minutes, keep pressure on his entrance with
the head of my cock and massage his lower back until he nods into the pillow. He reaches out and covers my hand with his, clutching
for strength as he bears down and I push inside his body for the first
time. Control doesn’t come easy in this
position. It’s instinct when wrapped
inside a heat like his to thrust in and bury myself deep. Excruciating to be patient because this
moment isn’t about me, it’s about the person beneath me who is taking the brunt
of the experience.
I gage his reaction, his profile crisp against his
pillow. Eyes tightly shut and mouth open
as he pants for air. His hand is cutting
off my circulation but I think that’s mostly due to shock, not pain. And I’m positive of this when he signals for
me to continue. He doesn’t hide his face
like he would if he chose to continue only because stopping would upset me.
He knows he has the power to stop this. He knows I would never be angry with him if
he wasn’t ready.
Inch by inch I fill him from behind, slipping inside this
heat where no one else has been. I fill
him with love and respect, with passion and lust, with everything I am that
supports him. I bottom out and ease away,
watching his face for any sign he can’t handle this. What I see is a mix of emotions, the first
and foremost is surprise, trailed by an open mouthed smile.
His breath catches with every thrust. A single sound over and over to punctuate the
thought he’s trying to convey. And soon
he brings his hips up to meet me and he’s rolling his ass, tightening around
me, dancing against my cock in a way that almost makes me lose it right then
and there. I need this to last. I need him to lose his mind as I come inside
my latex prison. I want him to pull his
hair and tilt his head back, my name a shout from his lips. But we have to be quiet. We have to take satisfaction in what we are
given: a chance to be together no matter the circumstances.
But he’s become wild and unforgiving in his time of
need. He likes this. He really likes this. I know because he squirms until he’s able to
carefully roll over onto his back. With
his knees pulled up, he lets enter him again.
It’s better this way; face to face so I can see his eyes and every
flicker of fire within them.
Buried all the way inside of him, I cover his body with mine
as he hooks his legs over my shoulders and slants his mouth over mine. The kisses are slow like the push of my
hips. His nose is sweaty as it brushes
against mine and his breaths taste of candy flavored with minty mouthwash. He’s so very real to me. Not to say he wasn’t real to me before, but hell
I’d be locked up if this was all in my head.
Now as he looks into my eyes from inches away and holds me
in a cocoon of arms and legs, he is so very real. And I’ll be damned if he doesn’t see me
back. I take his cock in my hand between
us, using what strength I have left to prop myself up against the wall with one
hand and stroke him off.
He gets this look on his face, so sweet and lost. His eyes are focused on me but it’s like he’s
looking at the face of heaven—a cocktail of fear and awe—and I know he’s about
to spill over. His neck and shoulders
are splotchy over his summer tan, heating up to a deep scarlet hue when the
blood rushes to his cock. His body
seizes up. He tightens around me—fingers
and toes curling into my skin. His back arches and his mouth opens wide.
He exhales in sharp breaths. Once, twice, and then he moans
so loud I hope it’s only our close proximity that makes the sound rattle my
eardrums. I realize it’s my name on his
tongue, seared into my mind like the vision of his eyes snapping open. His blues sparkle as he climaxes in my hand
and on his chest.
Maybe the noise I’m hearing is actually me. Because before I can make sense of the tidal
wave crashing over me, my throat is vibrating with nonsense and I’m gripping
his shoulder tight enough to leave a bruise.
I ache everywhere, in a good way, and for a few seconds I experience one
of the most powerful climaxes of my life.
And yet my hips are still moving as my dick softens inside him.
I’m still in heat, still with this drive to make him feel
me; let him know this is real. I’m real.
I can’t move. Can’t
think. Can only let my elbow lock as I
hold myself up on the wall and hang my head to see his face, his eyes staring
up at me like a well fucked man.
After minutes of learning to breath, to make sure my heart isn’t
going to implode, I pull out and hold onto his knees for support. Why is it so quiet in here? A second ago I thought the world was coming
down around us. Where did the noise go? Why am I freaking out? Why isn’t he saying anything? Did I hurt him?
No. This has never
happened to me before. I’m panicking
after sex. What does this mean? Did he break me?
“Chris, I…”
“I had no idea how much I needed that.” He puts a hand over his eyes and grins. Chris blushes across his cheeks and nose as
he bites his bottom lip and sighs. And
then he’s laughing softly and I feel my hope die. This is funny to him? I just made love to him and it’s a joke? Whatever erection I had left flopped and
fizzled.
“Yeah.” I get off the
bed and pull the condom off. I tie it up
and dispose of it in the bathroom. I’m
not sure how long I stand there, clutching the sides of the sink and looking at
myself in the mirror, but it feels like forever.
His footsteps are light.
His presence is huge, looming and stressful as he leans in the
doorway. “Logan, you okay?”
Maybe it’s because I was hoping we’d have one of those
moments just like at the end of a romance movie and secretly set myself up for
failure that I’m freaking out. Or maybe
it was my greatest fear to be rejected by the man I fell in love with that I
had never done this before, fallen this hard.
But his laughter hurt me. It
reminded me of the laughs cast my way my entire life. It was like a punch in the face I’d felt a
million times but thought I’d never feel again.
“You know, I’ve never been told I’m bad in bed, but I’ve
never had anyone laugh at me after the fact either. That was supposed to mean something, what I
just did, what we did. And you just—”
He takes my lips before I can say anything else to out me as
a softie. My mom always said I wore my
heart on my sleeve and the littlest thing could make me or break me, but she
never told me how to protect myself from this.
She never told me what being a grown up in love felt like.
It’s like being a wreck, because I am right now and I don’t
know how to fix it. I thought I did
something good. I thought we had something good. I’ve never cared about someone else’s needs
like this. I’ve never… been kissed like
this.
“Logan, look at me.”
He tips my chin up. I have a hard
time meeting his eyes. “I wasn’t
laughing at you. I was laughing because
it felt good to get it out. You made me feel good.”
Oh. Oh shit. See?
I’m a fucking mess, dammit! “You
can just tell if me I sucked. It’s not a
big deal.” I brush it off and reach for
some tissues because I’m uncomfortable and I have no idea how to tell him how I
really feel.
“You sucked like a champ,” he teases me near my ear. His tongue traces my earlobe. Soon his arms are around me and his warm cock
is pushing against my ass. “And now you have me saying cheesy shit. Must have done something right because I
could care less about it too.”
I swallow hard. “I
didn’t hurt you?”
“Not saying I won’t be sore tomorrow, but that’s supposed to
be a sign of a good night, right? Logan,
please look at me.” He urges me to turn
around. “I had no idea you’d be this
nervous after. I mean, you sure knew
what you were doing in there. I’ve never
had anyone… It was never like that before.”
“Well, I’ve fucked, but I’ve never made love to anyone
before. So it’s a night of firsts for
both of us.”
I only get to see his eyes for a mere second before he’s
claiming my lips again. This time my brain
shuts down and I stop thinking about my petty insecurities. This time he doesn’t laugh. His mouth burns against mine. His tongue traces my taste buds. His hands tighten in my hair and I know, I
just know, he gets what a big deal it was me for to say that. Somehow I’ve managed to fuck the nervous out
of him and take it all inside me because he knows exactly how to soothe my
worries.
His kisses take him down my jaw and up to my ear where he
whispers, “I love you too.”
I harden all over again.
He takes my hand and cuts me a heavy lidded look. He leads me back into the bedroom, cuts off
the lights and invites me under the covers.
Our covers. In our bed. Words are futile as his hot mouth searches
out mine in the dark. His hand glides
over my cock and he pulls me against him.
We taste and explore until we’re sated and drowsy. Until I get that he wants to protect me
within the safety of his arms and silently vows to cherish me back.
He gets that my heart is just as mortal as his and sometimes
I don’t do and say the right things. He
gets that I’m human, reminds me it is okay.
He understands me because he’s lived in my shoes, just a different style
off the shelf.
I love him.
How could I not have seen that coming?
***
Joey is glaring at us from across the table. He holds a crayon in one hand. The stick of red wax hovers over his paper
kid’s menu with malice. “Tomorrow?” He stabs the puzzle he’d been working so hard
to elaborate on for the sake of corporate, because their idea of a maze was too
childish and according to him, not challenging enough for their five to ten
demographic.
“Not a big deal, buddy.
Mrs. Vargas just wants to talk about stuff with you and show you around
the school. It’ll probably take an hour
tops.” Chris looks at me over glasses
and pinches my leg under the table.
I rub the burn away and plaster on a smile. “Joey, you should see this place. Your dad and I were cruising around there a
few days ago and these kids were chillin’ on the grass, reading to each other
and having snacks. It was great.”
“Sounds like daycare.” Joey’s eyes become slits and he drops
his crayon to cross his arms. “I’m not a
baby.”
“Tsk. Who says you’re a baby? We’re talking fourth grade here. Guess what
fourth grade has? A reading club and
they write stories too. I thought of you
the minute Mrs. Vargas let that slip.
You’d dig it.” I relax against
the booth and rest my arm along the back cushion. “Did we mention we’re going to buy you
sneakers today?”
“That’s bribery.”
Joey lifts a blond brow.
“How do you know these words?” Chris lifts his palms and blinks. “Demographic.
Now bribery? I can’t handle this.” Chris exhales and puts his hands on the
table.
Joey shrugs. “I read
a lot.”
“Yeah? So did I at
your age and I never picked up that kind of vocabulary. What the heck every happened to the Hardy
Boys?”
Joey rolls his eyes.
“Boxcar Children?”
Joey blinks. “Who?”
“Never mind.” Chris
sighs over his coffee.
Our waitress brings over a tray with our breakfast and puts
Joey’s pancake special in front of him. She’s
older, smiles a lot and reminds me of the grandmotherly type. She never saw Joey’s attitude coming;
probably was the last thing she ever expected.
He took one look at the chocolate chips, whipped cream, and cherry that
made up a smiley face on his pancakes and slowly looked up at her.
“I’m not a baby.”
“No you most certainly are not. You’re a big boy.” She smiles again and sets down the rest of
our food.
“A big boy is a stupid label grownups call boys who are
still in daycare. I am not going to
daycare.” Joey pushes his plate away.
“Joseph Wyzak, you apologize right now.” Chris cocks his head and waits.
“For what? I don’t
want a smiley face on my pancake because I’m not very happy right now.”
“What you are is a rude and you will apologize to her
immediately or we are going home and you can eat cold cereal. Not the marshmallow kind either.” Chris
raises his hand and starts to count down his fingers.
Joey huffs and looks up at the waitress. “I’m sorry my dad and his boyfriend tried to
bribe me with pancakes and sneakers because they want me to go to daycare.”
“Oh no.” I cover my
eyes with my hand.
“Evelyn is it? I am
terribly sorry for my son’s rudeness.
Normally he has manners but I guess he left them at home today, which is
where he’ll be spending the rest of the day with no books and no television and
no marshmallows.”
“You can’t do that. I
didn’t do anything wrong.” Joey leans
over the table. “That’s unfair.”
“You’ll have a bit of time to yourself to reflect on what
you did, I assure you.” Chris pulls two
twenties out of his wallet and hands them to Evelyn. “Again, I apologize for the outburst. I am so embarrassed. Please keep the change
and can we get this to go?”
She nods. “Stay
strong. You’re doing it right.” She pats Chris on the shoulder and wanders
off to the register. Chris is either comfortable with me being called his
boyfriend now, or he’s too wrapped up in Joey’s tirade to care. I’m just an innocent bystander until Chris
rings the bell and lets me into the ring.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Tears gather in Joey’s eyes. “You’re just trying to get rid of me like you
always do. You want to put me in another
stupid school so you can go to work and I never see you again. I wish Logan was my dad.” Joey slides out of the booth and runs for the
front door.
Chris’s breath catches in his throat. He closes his eyes behind his glasses. The bell has tolled. My turn now.
“Out.” I push Chris
up. “You stay here and I’ll go after
him.”
“No, I should…”
“Chris, I got this.
He thinks I’ll give him hearts and flowers for being a brat and he’s
wrong. If he sees we both agree he was
being a little shit then I think he’ll get the point.”
“I’m not a bad father.
I can do this.”
“But that’s the beauty of being in a relationship with your
nanny. I got your back on this and I know what I’m doing on occasion.” He gestures for me to go with defeat in his eyes.
“And you’re anything but a bad father.
If I knew you wouldn’t have a stroke, I’d kiss you on the spot to make
everything better. I’ll bank it for
later though. Count on it.”
Chris sags back into the booth and stares at the table. His kid told him he wished he had another
dad. Even though Joey didn’t really mean
it, Chris thinks he did. The guy looks
like he had his heart ripped out of his chest.
I find Joey trying to yank the Rover’s door open despite the
blaring alarm. He has tears streaming
down his cheeks. The moment he sees me,
he tries with all his might to get into the car. I turn the alarm off and gently grab him by
the shoulders as I crouch in front of him.
“What you just said to your father was awful. If it weren’t for that man in there you
wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have been
born, or have a roof over your head, or books to read. You wouldn’t be loved to death. You wouldn’t have food on your table. You could have been born during the French
Revolution you love to read about so much and died of rat disease or whatever
it’s called, or had your head chopped off for stealing bread because you were
too poor to feed your eight brothers and sisters.” I tipped his chin up. “And I love you so much, Joey, but I will
never be that man in there. I will
protect you and guide you and be the best role model I can be for you, but I am
not Christopher Wyzak. I am not the man
who raised you to be a good person with kind words. I am not the man whose heart you just broke
when you said such rude things.”
I take his hands in mine.
He cries harder. “He has done
nothing but try to make your life better.
He wants the best for you, not to throw you away or put you in daycare. He found a school that fits you, that will
make you feel as special as you are to him.
Do you know how much your dad loves you, Joey? Do you know what he’d do to make you happy?”
Joey sniffs and nods.
I wipe his tears away. “Then tell
me why you would say a thing like that to your dad? Tell me the reason you were mean to Evelyn
back there when she didn’t deserve that.”
He hiccups and rubs his eyes. “I don’t want to go to a new school.”
“Would you rather go back to the old one? Because I’m telling you, Joey, it ain’t
happenin’. Between you and me, and don’t
you ever say I told you this because I’ll deny it to the very end, Sister Grace
is an evil witch.” Joey smiles through
his tears. He wipes snot from his nose
and looks at the offending splotch on his arm like he’s contracted a flesh
eating virus. I pull a tissue out of my
pocket, because kids, and hand it to him.
“This school, buddy, it’s amazing.
It’s everything you ever wanted and it’s far from daycare. Trust me.
It’s only for kids with the right stuff—you know what I’m sayin’.”
“No.” He shakes his
head.
“It’s for kids who want more than normal schools have to
offer. It’s for boys and girls like you who
need good friends and great teachers and opportunities I can’t normally give
you.” Chris puts the food on the Rover’s
hood and joins me at Joey’s eye level.
“But I can’t send you there to see Mrs. Vargas with that kind of
behavior, and it’s not because I don’t love you, but because you are a
reflection of me. Whether you like it or
not, you are my baby and I did not raise you to be cruel. Not to me.
Not to anyone. So if you can’t
act like a young man then I’ll have to find you a public school to go to. Because I have to work to pay for our house,
for our food, and because I love where I work.
And I don’t send you to school or tell Logan to watch you because I
don’t want to be with you. In a perfect
world, Joey, I would spend every second I had with you, but this is real
life. And I love you. And that’s never going to change—no matter
how much you hate me right now.”
“I don’t hate you,” Joey sobs.
“Then why did you say that back there?” Chris takes his glasses off and rubs the
bridge of his nose.
Joey wraps his arms around his skinny chest. “I’m scared they won’t like me. No one ever likes me.”
“It’s my fault for keeping you at that school for so long,
Joey. I’m sorry I did wrong by you, but
I’m trying to make up for it. The minute
we took you out of there things have been good.
You made friends at Sabine’s. You
smile more. You talk to me more. So do you think I’d send you to another
school like that? Not gonna happen,
buddy. Never again. I promise you that.” Chris puts his glasses back on. He opens his arms and Joey stumbles
forward. He clings to his dad.
“I’m sorry, dad.”
Joey mumbles into Chris’s neck.
“Please don’t be mad at me. I’ll
eat the smiley face.”
Chris surprises me with a smile over Joey’s shoulder. Joey sure does know how to get to his
dad. Has him wrapped right around his
little finger.
“So we good? No more
losing our manners, even when we’re upset?”
I tap Joey on the nose.
“Okay.” Joey
nods. “I’m sorry.”
I take Joey’s hand. “You
need to go back in there and tell Evelyn you’re sorry too.”
“Okay.” Joey hangs
his head.
“Then maybe we’ll see about those sneakers,” Chris adds
because his kid is still freaked out and Chris is still a dad who wants to make
everything better. “But after that,
you’re grounded to your room until dinner.”
Joey bites back his smile.
“Okay,” he murmurs.
I walk Joey back to the restaurant door. “I don’t know how you do it, kid, but you
better thank the stars you have a good dad.”
Joey struggles with the door. Once he achieves victory, using his entire
body to prop the heavy glass open, he looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Duh.”
Kids—what the fuck sometimes, am I right?
To be continued…
