Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Vivian
“I don’t know why you need me to go with you for this,” Amanda complains, while putting her Audi into reverse and pulling out of the driveway.
I look at her, my eyes pleading with her to just get over it. “Because, Manda, he wanted to get the kids together, and he thought that if there were a few of us there, like a group family situation, there would be less pressure. His brother will be there, so I thought it would be good if you were there too.”
She exhales deeply, and then looks straight ahead. I’m sure she’s considering her options to pay me back for this. Amanda agreed to be supportive of my relationship with Brooks, but I know going with us, especially now that his brother will be there, too, is going to be a stretch for her.
“I think it will be fun, Aunt Amanda,” Emma chimes in from the backseat. Blake is completely engaged in his Leap Pad story, and is the least bit interested in the current conversation.
Amanda looks at her through the rearview mirror, and a smile tugs at her lips. “You and me will definitely have a good time, baby girl. After we see the giraffes, I’ll buy you a snow cone.”
Emma’s whole face lights up and she bounces in her seat, showing her agreement. “Okay, but Grace will want one, too,” she adds.
“Deal. Now just sit back and relax; we will be at the zoo soon. Your momma and I need to have a little talk.” She gives me a side glance, and I know she has a lot on her mind that she is going to freely unload on me. Thankfully, we only have a fifteen-minute car ride.
Emma sits back and looks out the window to watch the Saturday traffic buzz by on I-25. She loves to car watch. Since moving to the city, she loves to go on car rides just to zone into the hustle and bustle of the surroundings.
I look over to Amanda, and I see her hands gripping the steering wheel; I can tell her mind is working on overdrive. She begins to open her mouth, I’m sure to begin the lecture, but I butt in before she can get a word in.
“All right, first, before you say anything, remember that you have an audience in this car and they are sponges; anything you say can and will be used against you at some point, and more than likely in public, so keep it appropriate.”
Amanda looks in the mirror again, and I turn my head around to peek into the backseat. “They are fine; they are totally zoned out,” she says. “Besides, they have no idea what we are talking about. Just keep your voice down and I’ll turn up the radio a little.”
I sigh and look out the passenger window before looking back to my sister, who I know means well, but needs to loosen the leash a little. “Amanda, I understand that you said you would step back and let whatever this is between Brooks and me progress. However, you’re my sister and I know you’re worried that I will still end up hurt. Honestly, I’m scared of the same thing, and I’m kind of freaking out a little bit. But I’m willing to venture down that road anyway, and you know why?”
She gives me a side glance and just shakes her head, keeping quiet to let me finish.
“Win or lose, I’m willing to give him another chance, because I’m tired of being afraid. I haven’t felt this happy and this content since Will. I haven’t felt anything but numb for the last year, Amanda, and I may end up with a broken heart, but if Brooks can make me feel something again, if he can bring me back to life, then I think it’s worth the heartache.”
Amanda takes a deep, calming breath and I reach out to grab her hand. “I know you just want to protect me, Manda; thank you for that. The thing is if losing Will taught me anything, it was that there are no guarantees in life, and I don’t want to regret a minute of it.”
Amanda squeezes my hand and smiles through her teary eyes; I’m beginning to struggle to keep my own from spilling over. “Okay,” she says.
She didn’t need to say more; I know Amanda wouldn’t be a silent spectator anymore, but would jump both feet in with me. If I stumble and face-plant, she will help me up and clean the dirt off me…then hunt Brooks down and drown him in the mud I fell in.
Pulling the visor down, Amanda checks her makeup in the mirror, wiping away any running mascara. She lets out a long sigh, and I know this particular topic is officially closed, thank goodness. “So tell me about the brother. If I’m going to spend the day with him, at least give me details.”
“I’ve never met him; they are half-brothers, and his name is Lakin, but that is all I know about him.”
“Lakin?” An obvious frown appears between her brows. “Brooks and Lakin…were his parents sailors or hippies, or something? What’s with the water theme?”
“I never thought of that,” I laugh. “Really, though, I know nothing about him. I’m assuming he’s nice since Brooks is bringing him along; I don’t even know what he looks like, but I would guess that he probably looks a lot like Brooks.”
A devilish grin flashes across her face.
“Oh, no!” I warn. “Don’t you even think about it; you go through men like bottles of water, and that will just make things awkward.”
“I do not!” she protests. “Besides, if he looks anything like Brooks, I wouldn’t mind taking a drink.”
“Whatever, Amanda. You and I both know that you have the most–” I stop and turn to the back seat before whispering, “the most ravenous nether region known to man. You chew men up and spit them out. Keep your hands to yourself on this one.”
She turns to me, noticeably trying to suppress a laugh, “Did you just say ravenous nether region?”
We both burst into laughter, drawing attention from our backseat audience just as we pull into the parking lot of the zoo. “We’re there!” both children shout.
We quickly get our tickets and make our way to the spot we are meeting the rest of our group, by the giraffes; they are Emma’s favorite. Brooks, Lakin, and Grace are already there waiting for us.
As we get closer, I give Lakin a once-over and yup, he’s cute; he’s nothing compared to Brooks, but he certainly can hold his own. I steal a glance at Amanda, and yeah, she likes what she sees. She’s fluffing her hair and adjusting her sundress; she looks like she is about to go in for the kill. So much for the hands-off policy I was going for back in the car. Amanda is on a Defcon 5 manhunt. Poor Lakin doesn’t have a chance.
Once Emma sees Grace, she grabs Blake’s hand and they race over to her. They all point at the giraffes and begin an intense discussion about what animals they want to see.
As soon as I reach Brooks, he pulls me into his arms and gives me a chaste kiss on the mouth. Pulling away, he has a huge grin on his face. “Hi,” he says.
I giggle—yes, I actually giggle. “Well, hi to you too.”
Amanda clears her throat to get our attention. I’m a little surprised that my tiger of a sister is even waiting for an introduction. Brooks tucks me into his side, and I begin the formalities.
“Brooks, you remember my sister, Amanda,” I say, and each gives a half-hearted smile and pathetic wave. The enthusiasm is just pouring from them. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Lakin smiles brightly at her, though, and grabs her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’m Brooks’ younger brother Lakin. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Amanda tucks her gorgeous blonde hair behind her ear and gives him her best flirtatious smile. “It’s nice to meet you as well,” she says. Oh, Jesus, shoot me now. I give it ten minutes before they wander off from the group to enjoy their own animal-like behavior.
Before it goes any further, all three children interrupt their googly eyes.
“Amanda! Amanda! It’s time for snow cones!” Emma shouts as she starts tugging on Amanda’s dress.
“I heard you promise snow cones, Aunt Amanda, and I want a blue one,” Blake adds.
Amanda looks to me for help, clearly wanting to spend more time with Lakin and not her darling niece and nephew. I just raise my hand to her. “Hey, you did promise,” I tell her, offering no help at all.
She looks to Lakin, and then to Emma. “I’m not very hungry, munchkin, and we just got here; let’s check out some more animals and work up an appetite before we get snacks.”
Emma frowns and places her hands on her hips, clearly thinking over her next move in the snow cone negotiation process. “But on the way here, Momma said that you were hungry.”
“What? No she didn’t, sweetheart.”
“Oh yes, she did! You guys were talking about your Netherlands being hungry, and I think a snow cone will fix that.” Clearly, our vehicle audience had better hearing than we thought.
Everyone looks to me to interpret the four-year-old lingo, and I try my best to mutter through my best PG explanation. “Um, Manda, I clearly remember a conversation that included you being in need of something. I think our little sponge mixed up a few key pieces of information.”
When Amanda’s eyes go wide with her realization, I slowly nod at her. “I told you, no public filter, little sis.”
Amanda grabs Emma’s hand, her embarrassment showing all over her face. “Okay, kids, enough talking; it’s snow cone time. Lakin, would you like to help?”
“I would love to,” he tells her, and with that, the kids jump up and down and shout with excitement.
As they turn to walk towards the vendors, I hear Lakin tell her that he thinks it’s awesome that she speaks Dutch, and I absolutely lose it. I laugh so hard that my eyes begin to water; Amanda hears me and looks at me over her shoulder to throw her nastiest of looks at me. It only makes me howl louder, barely able to catch my breath.
“Okay, fill me in; what in the world is so funny?” Brooks asks, noticeably confused at the inside joke.
I tell him the story of her all-consuming loins and by the time we are at the picnic tables by the vendors, he too is doubled over laughing. Amanda, understanding our amusement, is shooting daggers at us.
“Oh, come on, sis that was funny. I tried to warn you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks a bunch, Viv.”
“Seriously, Amanda, don’t worry about it. Grace does that kind of stuff to me all the time,” Brooks tells her.
“Well, a change of topic would be much appreciated,” she growls.
The kids finish their snow cones, and we continue our exploration of the zoo with just as much laughter, but with fewer embarrassing filter moments. Any time the kids have their heads turned, Brooks holds my hand or kisses my forehead or cheek. I swear my body is on fire by the time our zoo trip is over. My stomach quivers from the constant butterflies, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. This day has been perfect.
We still haven’t told the kids that we are anything more than friends; it is less confusing for them, and we feel it’s best to keep our relationship to ourselves for a while. To be honest, I’m scared at what their reaction will be. There are times when I feel like I’m betraying Will’s memory by caring for Brooks, and my heart would break if Emma and Blake felt the same way. So for now, while we figure this out, our silence is golden.
Within a few hours, the kids are exhausted and our feet are sore from toting them around when their legs get tired.
I settle Blake and Emma into the car, and Lakin takes Grace to get buckled so that Brooks and I can say goodbye alone. “Thank you for today,” I tell him.
He tangles our hands together and pulls me to him. “No, thank you, Viv. This has been the best day I’ve had in a long time. Any day that has you in it is perfect.”
I smile up at him, and he leans down to kiss my forehead. “When can I see you again?”
I step back a little, but keep our hands connected. I desperately want to see him again, but I’ve been down this too-fast-too-soon road with Brooks before, and it got me shattered. I need to remember to keep myself guarded, because it’s too easy to lose myself in him. “Um, I’m not sure what we have going on this week. Let me check the kids’ schedules and I’ll text you,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
He releases one of my hands and lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Don’t do that, Red.”
“What?”
“You know what. You want to see me just as much as I want to see you, but you’re scared. I get that, but you need to understand that I’m not the same kid that you met ten years ago who was afraid of who he was, and was embarrassed of his past. I’m a man who knows what he wants, and I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life proving that you are what I want.”
I exhale the breath that I am holding and nod. A million thoughts are racing through my mind, but I can’t force any words to move past my lips.
“I’m not going anywhere; I’m not running this time. Please give me the chance to hang onto you.”
I step forward and move onto my tiptoes to reach his lips. “Okay,” I whisper against his lips. It’s his turn to let out the sigh he was holding, waiting for my answer. “Call me tonight after Grace is in bed.”
He smashes me to his chest and moves his hands to my hair. His lips meet mine, and he deepens the kiss, sending my dormant butterflies back into overdrive. He pulls back, smiling down at me with a mega-watt grin, showcasing his swoon-worthy dimples. “You bet your ass I’ll call you, Clover,” he says before he kisses my hand and walks away like he hadn’t left me with swollen lips, weak knees, and soaking panties. Great, the car ride home will be just as uncomfortable as the ride here.
Vivian
Brooks follows through on his promise to call. He calls, texts, or stops by every day for the next week. Grace has been over to play a few times, and everyone is beginning to feel comfortable with each other. So when Blake suggests a group dinner and movie slumber party with Brooks and Grace, we see it as a great opportunity to introduce the kids to our relationship.
Jen and Carly, of course, see this as an opportunity for an adult slumber party. I had thrown out all of the lingerie that I owned after Will died. I know it seems silly, but it feels wrong to wear any of it for another man. Needless to say, Jen took me underwear shopping in preparation for our sleepover. I’m not sure my Visa will ever recover.
Armed with our overnight bags and enough movie options to last until the end of time, Emma, Blake, and I make the short trip to Brooks’ for our weekend adventure. His house is somewhat secluded in the foothills of the Rockies, just a twenty-minute drive from our house in the suburbs of Denver.
We creep our way up the long, winding driveway, which is more like a gravel path. A luscious mixture of aspens and evergreens line the pathway on both sides, blocking our view of his actual home. The road begins to widen, exposing the largest, most beautiful log cabin, and I peer into the backseat to see both of my children’s mouths hanging wide open. The house is not a simple family home; it should be showcased in the Parade of Homes or Architectural Digest. The two-story behemoth features a green roof with thick solid pine logs wrapping the exterior. It looks like Lincoln Logs on steroids.
I park the car in front of the entrance, and we all sit idly in wonder of the mansion before us. “Is this really Brooks’ house?” Blake asks, his eyes still bulging out of his little head.
I slowly nod, still staring forward, “Yup, buddy, it is.”
“Wow, it’s like a wooden castle,” Emma adds.
“All right, guys, it’s just a house. We are going to have a ton of fun this weekend. Let’s go find Brooks and Grace, and please remember to be polite. No fighting this weekend, okay?”
They both agree, and we all tumble out of the car and begin lugging our bags up the stone pathway to the front door. Before we even reach the porch steps, Brooks barrels through the front door and rushes down the stairs to grab our bags; his excitement is evident in his haste as he nearly trips on the flagstone.
I hear Blake laugh, but I turn around to shoot him my best mom-glare, and he suppresses his chuckle. Emma lightly punches him in the arm, emphasizing the tone of our silent family conversation. I turn the stare her way, and she throws her hands up in surrender just as Brooks reaches us.
“Hey, you guys. I’m glad you could make it,” he says as he takes the bags out of my hands and kisses my cheek.
“Thank you for having us,” Blake responds as he hands Brooks his bag.
Brooks reaches for Emma’s bag as well, but she refuses to hand over her backpack; she hasn’t let the thing out of her sight since we got it at Target. “Where’s Grace?” she asks.
“She is with Katie, my babysitter. They were out running errands when I got home, but they should be here anytime,” he answers as he throws everything over his shoulder. He leads us up the walkway. We enter the foyer and he immediately leads us upstairs to a long hallway with a string of doors on either side.
Brooks looks completely relaxed in his faded, scuffed-up blue jeans and soft cotton tee. Instead of the shrewd, polished architect, he is loosened up and carefree, just like I remember from college. His broad shoulders and toned muscles are at war with the thin, tight shirt he has selected. I can see every bit of his definition, and it’s a gorgeous sight to behold. As the slapping of his sandals smack against the wood flooring, I begin to pull my eyes away from Brooks’ body and take in our surroundings.
The décor throughout the house is very masculine; the color pallet a mixture of light greys and cobalt blue. It’s certainly not what I would have expected in a log home, but it works and feels like Brooks. While there are pictures of Grace everywhere, the family pictures stop with her. There are none of his mother, or brother, or even friends–nothing, just him and Grace.
A lonely feeling settles within me at the thought of the two of them having only each other, and it makes me want to create more for them, build a family together. The thought hits me like a sledgehammer; it’s not the typical Vivian line of thinking, and I can’t explain my ease. In that moment, I’m not scared of the idea of creating a family with Brooks and our children, but I know that if I let my mind settle with the notion, guilt will no doubt creep in and squash my content.
We pass by Grace’s room, which is completely decked out in hot pink and zebra print. It looks like Barbie and Joan Jett had a paint war. It melts my heart to see a girly room filled with dolls and Barbie cars in this masculine house. We then deposit each of the kids in their own guest room to let them get settled, allowing Brooks time to show me to my room. I’m a little surprised that he doesn’t bring me to his room; I can’t deny that I’m not a little disappointed.
Brooks lays my bag on the queen-sized bed and grabs me to sit on his lap on the edge of it. With one arm coiling around my waist, he uses the other to push my hair away from my neck. “You have the room across the hall from mine. I figured you might want your things in here for appearances for the kids, but I have no intention of letting you sleep in here,” he whispers into my ear.
His breath tickles my neck and I giggle, attempting to turn away from his mouth. Scooting around to face him, I kiss his cheek, and then glide my tongue across his jaw to nibble on his earlobe. I feel him shiver under me. Brooks is not the type to relinquish control, and I certainly look forward to handing it over to him; in this moment, it is exciting to make this strong man squirm.
“That’s good to hear,” I mumble against his neck. “I may have brought some special pajamas I think you’ll enjoy.”
He throws his head back, and I take the opportunity to attack his neck, lathering it with soft kisses. “Fuck, Red, I’m not sure I can wait until tonight. Would it be bad to send all the kids to the movies with Katie, instead of staying here?”
“Yeah, I don’t think that would fly,” I answer, grinding into him and earning a muted groan.
“Can we maybe spike their juice with Benadryl to ensure they fall asleep early and stay out for the night?”
I pull away from his neck, “Did you just ask me to drug our children?” I laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think that will work either.”
“I’m kidding, but, Vivian, be prepared. I know you brought something special to wear tonight, but you have me so worked up that by the time I have you really alone, I don’t think it will be on long enough to appreciate it.”
“Noted, now let’s go find everyone and get this show on the road,” I say, giving him one last kiss before climbing off his lap.
“Why don’t you get everyone unpacked, and I’ll go get dinner going and wait for Grace.” Brooks stands to leave, but slaps me on the ass as he passes. I yelp at the hard smack.
“See you downstairs, baby.” He laughs as he exits the room.
Shaking my head at his lightheartedness, I immediately unzip my bag and hang my clothes that are prone to wrinkles. I work on unpacking my suitcase and let my mind reflect on the evening ahead of me, and the man that I can’t help but think I’m betraying.
As I unfold the lingerie I bought, I think about my expectations for the evening. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure what to expect from tonight or even if I truly want anything to happen. Either way, my nerves have reappeared full-force. I’m overwhelmed with the guilty feeling that I’m cheating on Will. I know he’s gone, and I know that he would want me to move on, but I fear that things with Brooks are moving too fast. The heart that I finally found again feels like it is being torn in two. I want Brooks–with every breath I want him–but I feel like I’m being disloyal to Will for even considering it.
It hasn’t even been a year since Will’s accident, and I’m not sure any amount of time will completely take that hurt away. More than anything, though, I want Brooks to take that pain away. I’m desperately trying to ignore the guilt that consumes me every time I let myself think about Will. I wonder if he would be okay with Brooks and me being together, and letting him be a part of our children’s lives. I can’t help but feel like I’m disappointing him, but if I listen to my heart, I realize I don’t want to let Brooks go again. Wrong or not, I want to fight for him, for us.
Closing the last drawer, I hear Blake’s laughter down the hall. I take a cleansing breath, straighten my dark blue jeans, and smooth out the soft flowing pink shirt I have layered over a white tank top. I take one last look in the mirror, and then head in the direction of the other guestrooms.
Brooks
As soon as I close Vivian’s door, I hustle down the stairs to get everything ready for everyone. I figure I would let the kids decide on dinner, but I want to lay out the options for them to pick. I want this evening to be perfect for her, and for the kids to be completely comfortable.
I don’t think I would be able to wipe the grin off my face even if I tried. Vivian, my Clover, staying in my house–and by her own free will I might add–is a freaking miracle. I’m not sure how many karmic good deeds I need to do to show my thankfulness, but it would be worth the trouble.
Just as I reach the landing of the stairs, Katie and Grace come through the door. Katie is loaded down with grocery bags, and of course, Grace is toting her favorite stuffed elephant and her purse that she insists she carry everywhere. She races to me, crashing into my knees and wrapping her arms around them.
“Well, hello there, baby girl,” I say before bending down to kiss her forehead. She looks up to greet me with a smile before she takes off past me and up the stairs.
I then rush to Katie and grab some of the bags she has begun dragging into the living room. “My God, Katie, I asked you to pick up a few groceries. I’m not stockpiling for the zombie apocalypse or anything.”
She swings a bag at me in response to my verbal jab; preparing for the blow, it faintly collides with my stomach. “Very funny. Grace said you had a date tonight, so I picked up some extra things for her and me.”
We make it into the kitchen, and she flings her bags onto the counter with an exaggerated huff and begins to put things away. “You know it would have been nice to know that I was babysitting tonight. What if I had plans?”
I try to interrupt, but she continues with her unnecessary rant. “I realize that I don’t have much of a social life, but seriously, finding out from a four year-old that my Friday night has been booked–that’s not cool, Brooks. Besides, what is this new girl, flavor of the month, week, or just sprinkles for the evening?”
She slams the refrigerator shut and stands there, waiting for my response. Very few people would ever get away with talking to me the way Katie just did. She has been the closest thing to a female confidant that I’ve had since Grace was born, and I value her opinion. Not only is she a loyal employee, she is a friend, someone whom I can always trust to call me on my shit when others are afraid to stand up to me. So I look past her mini-tantrum.
“So, first of all, I do have a date tonight, but she and her children are here. I won’t be going anywhere.” Katie’s hands that were resting on her hips slide down to her sides, and her mouth hangs open in disbelief. Yes, this is the first time I’ve ever had a woman over to my house, and she is very aware of that fact.
“Second, while I appreciate that you are willing to give up your Friday night for Grace and me, it would never be relayed through her; I think a whole hell of a lot more of you than that, Katie. And finally, Vivian is not just some flavor of the week; she is the whole damn sundae that I would feel lucky to have every day for the rest of my life.”
Katie quickly steps to me and gives me a warm hug. “I always hoped this would happen for you; I was starting to think you were a lost cause.” I pat her back, a little thrown off by her emotional outburst and drastic shift in moods.
“Um, thanks, I think,” I tell her, moving away from her grasp.
“If she really is that great, though, please don’t fuck it up. I would prefer we keep the Brooks brothel closed; I wouldn’t be surprised if there is an “‘I slept with Brooks Ryan’” support group out there somewhere,” she laughs lightly, slugging me in the arm.
I pretend to be wounded, and feign insult, which she only laughs at. “Thanks a lot.”
She and I both walk back to the front entrance where I open the door for her, and again thank her for bringing Grace home and running my errands.
“Anytime, Brooks, you know that.” She exhales deeply and smiles once more before turning and walking down the front steps towards her car.
I close the door just as Vivian and all three children skip down the stairs, laughing about some giraffe joke Blake has shared. I turn and watch them giggle and bump into each other; Vivian’s smile is bright, and when her eyes meet mine, it feels like I melt into them. This is my family. She is my family.
Vivian
Brooks is watching us move down the stairs, and every little butterfly that I thought I had gotten a grasp on has escaped from the net and is bouncing around my stomach. His look is one of admiration and desire, and if there were no children in the room with us, he would be taking our date night from PG to X-rated within seconds. I breathe through the anxiety and smile at him.
“Hey, guys,” he says, returning my grin. “How about we go into the kitchen first and pick out dinner, and then we can narrow down the movie options.”
He meets us at the bottom of the stairs and takes my hand to lead me to the kitchen. His thumb brushes along my knuckles, and the intimate touch calms my tension.
There are several dinner choices displayed on the counter top; the man has definitely prepared for the evening. “Okay, we have spaghetti, pot pie, chicken patties and potatoes, tacos, or Hamburger Helper,” Brooks says as he travels down the line like Vanna White, offering up each kid-friendly option.
I scan the counter, eyeing my arch nemesis, hoping the kids don’t select most kids’ go-to dinner of choice. Hamburger Helper and my stomach don’t get along well; I have actually banned the product from our house. I have an iron stomach, but when I even smell the little boxed wonder, my stomach revolts, and I experience the worst case of what I’ve come to call Momentary Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
Remembering my children’s tendency towards unfiltered verbal diarrhea, I’m hoping to direct everyone’s attention away from the demon noodles. Before I can get a word in though, my lovely daughter decides it’s the perfect time to protect my stomach instead of my pride.
“We can NOT have Hamburger Helper,” she loudly declares for the group.
“What? Why not? I love it.” Grace asks.
“Mom says Hamburger Helper is the devil,” Blake adds, trying to clarify, and everyone turns to me to explain further. I feel my hands begin to sweat as my face flushes with embarrassment and my eyes pin my son in place. He raises his hands in defense, as if my glare will physically harm him.
I grab the box off the counter, staring at the back label, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Brooks. “I don’t think that I have ever actually said that it is the devil.” I quickly look to Blake again, daring him to contradict me. “I just said that I don’t really like it, and since I’m the one that does the cooking, I choose not to make it.” Seems like a plausible explanation, and I’m hoping the topic is dropped until I look at my second unfiltered child to see the wheels in her head grinding away.
“No, Mom, Blake is right! I remember. That one time we had it for dinner, you spent the whole night in the bathroom with a tummy ache, and the next day you said Hamburger Helper was never allowed in the house again because it gave you diarrpea.”
Mayday! Mayday! I feel my eyes widen; I’m not sure what I could even say to save the moment. I am completely mortified, and when I hear Grace laughing, I know that our sexy evening has not only nose-dived, but has completely crashed and burned.
“It’s not diarrpea, silly,” Grace corrects through giggles.
“It is at our house. When Mom locked herself in the bathroom, it sounded like she was having a water gun fight in there. So now, we call it dia-ppp-a, because of the sounds she made,” Blake explains. It clicks for Grace, and she bursts into even bigger hysterics. Yup, this is completely awesome; I now know why some animals eat their own young.
