At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(59)
“Better than your nightgowns.”
“You’ve never f**ked me in one of my nightgowns,” I reminded him. “You always take them off.”
“Skin feels better than lace, buddy.”
“Oh.”
“Those things are sweet, but you look better naked.”
“Oh.”
Wow.
He thought I looked better na**d than in my nightgowns?
Wow.
“Anything else distractin’ you?” he asked.
It seemed to me, he wanted to talk. It seemed to me, he wanted to take the constant Mom load off my mind, a load I used to be able to share with Tim, a load I’d borne alone for too long.
That’s what it seemed like to me.
Then again, that was probably what I wanted it to seem like.
“Well, except for the fact that I lifted the ban off Dane bein’ here when I’m not and wondering if that was the right thing to do, no.”
“Looked in your house last night when I got home. The kids were all in the kitchen, makin’ dinner and laughin’. You were good, least last night.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
I liked the thought of Joe looking in my house and seeing the kids laughing. That felt good.
It felt good until Joe continued. “Still, he’s a teenage boy so every other minute he’s thinkin’ about gettin’ in her pants.”
That felt bad.
“Joe!”
“Bein real, buddy, you should know that and you should talk to her about condoms.”
“I’ve already talked to her about abstinence.”
Joe burst out laughing and I froze, listening to the richness of it. I’d never heard him laugh. I wasn’t even certain he could laugh. He was my hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door, security to the stars booty call. He was a serious, scary, rugged, sinister, alpha male. Men like that didn’t laugh.
When his laughter died down, I could still hear its timbre in his question. “Your folks talk to you about abstinence?”
“My mother is asexual. I think my father kidnapped Sam and me.”
“Everyone’s mother is asexual.”
“Not like my mother. She’s a robot programmed to one emotion, disapproval.”
“See you’re close with your Ma.”
“She doesn’t even send me a Christmas card.”
Again, there was silence, this time it was strangely weighty then he asked, “No shit?”
“No shit. She has nothing to do with me or my girls.”
“That’s f**ked.”
“Yep.”
“You send her one?”
“Every year but only because I semi-kinda-like my Dad because he buys gifts for the girls on the internet that he can hide from my Mom amongst other purchases.”
“Your family sounds kind of f**ked up, buddy.”
“I’m American, it’s the American way.”
“Got that right,” he muttered.
I wanted to ask about his family. I knew his mother was Italian and from Chicago but there were a lot of Italians in Chicago, that’s why they made the best pizza in the world there (outside of Italy, I was guessing, since I’d never been to Italy). When he spoke of her, he said “was” which made me think she wasn’t around anymore. He also had a murdered cousin named Vinnie that he was close to who happened to be in the mafia, pre-murder. This was kind of scary information to have and I was trying to ignore it, especially since Daniel Hart was involved. That’s all I knew.
But I didn’t think it was my place to ask and I had to get to Cheryl. I was now, officially, late.
“Joe, I gotta go.”
“All right, Vi,” I started to say good-bye but he went on. “I see Dane again, we’ll have a talk.”
I blinked then asked, “About what?”
“About respect.”
“Respect?”
“Respect for his woman. Takin’ care of her.”
I froze again.
Then I whispered, “Joe –”
“Figure you don’t regret what happened to you, you got Kate, but that shit goes down for them, it could play out differently, they should be clued in. Yeah?”
Why was he being so nice?
And laughing?
And interested in everything?
I didn’t come up with any answers because Joe kept talking. “Speakin’ of that, Vi, you said you weren’t on the pill and we haven’t –”
“I, uh… went back on after the first time, we, uh…” God, how embarrassing. “Anyway, no worries. It’s all good.”
How fun, telling my booty call I’d been having regular periods.
He cut into my embarrassment with a quiet, “Good news, baby.”
And why was he calling me “baby” more often?
I wasn’t complaining but did booty calls use sweet nothings?
I needed to ask Cheryl so I repeated, “Joe, I have to go.”
“Use your side door tonight, lock it.”
“Okay.”
“Later.”
“Bye.”
I slid my phone closed and stared at it.
He kept moving the goalposts for this booty call business. How could he say no to dinner but then talk to my daughter’s boyfriend about condoms and respect for his “woman”?