Just One of the Guys(59)

“Well, we’ve just begun the committed, serious, monogamous relationship, Trevor. Gotta start somewhere.” My voice is not quite as casual as I’d like.

“Sure,” Trevor agrees. “And I’m sure he has a lot of nice qualities.”

Why does he defend Ryan? my little voice squawks. Why doesn’t he say, How about a committed, serious, monogamous relationship with me, Chas?

Because he doesn’t want that, Elaina’s voice answers firmly. He’s had his chance, okay? He’s had plenty.

“So?” Trevor asks. “What do you like about this guy, Chas?”

“What are you, my big sister now?” I ask, and he grins, and my insides lurch.

“Close enough. Answer the question.”

I get up from the table, put my bowl in the sink and stare out the window at the dark backyard. “He’s really smart, obviously.” Well-educated. “And he’s got a nice sense of humor…you know, kind of quiet.” Excellent manners. “He’s hardworking. Treats me really well.” Good driver. “Didn’t mind chasing Buttercup.”

“Sounds like there’s some potential here, Chas.”

My throat tightens. “Oh, yeah. Definitely potential. Listen, buddy, I’m going to bed. Do you need anything? Pillow, blanket, anything?”

“I’m all set, thanks. Night, Chastity.”

“Goodnight, Trev.”

Upstairs in my room, Buttercup has taken her usual position, occupying three-quarters of my queen-size bed. I undress, then realize with an impatient sigh that I forgot to brush my bleeping teeth. And since I don’t even have a sink in my stupid bathroom, I’d have to go back downstairs and risk seeing Trevor once more.

Well. I get into my tiny sliver of a bed, shove Buttercup over with my feet and sigh.

Surely I’ve wasted enough time thinking about Trevor over the past couple of decades. Instead of thinking about Trev, I order myself to think of attainable, relationship-minded Ryan Darling.

I think I could probably love Ryan. Like I said to Trevor, he seems like a very nice, serious, hardworking guy. He’s not really funny in the way that I’m used to, the lizards in the bed kind of funny, but he’s not un-funny, either. And there’s some chemistry between us, sure. If my toes didn’t exactly curl, well, they twitched, and this was just our first time. He is certainly good-looking. We’d make beautiful, strong, tall children, hopefully. Smart, too. Ivy League Teamsters.

So yes, we’d done it. Moved the relationship forward, and if it was a little fast, as Trevor so irritatingly pointed out, so what? Ryan and I are consenting adults in our thirties. No big deal. I wince as the words echo in my head. No big deal.

It’s not that sex with Ryan wasn’t nice. It was. Very nice. We took our time, he was considerate, assured me of his good health, took care of the needed protection and all that. It was very nice. If I had to grade it, I’d give it a B+. Good, solid, well-supported sex. Like a hearty meat loaf dinner. And if nice isn’t exactly what a woman dreams of, if instead of meat loaf, she’s wishing for filet mignon, if she’s wanting earth-shaking instead of solid, a little more wild, a little less smooth, well, she should probably get over it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MOM,” I say, handing over the tulips, truffles and card.

“Oh, honey! How sweet you are!” Mom cries, tearing open the truffles. “Oooh, very nice, darling! Want one?”

“No, no, they’re all for you,” I say.

Mom reads the card, tears up, hugs me. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” she says. “Don’t tell the boys, but you’re my favorite.”

“Don’t tell the boys, my ass,” Jack says. “She tells us every chance she gets.”

I kiss my oldest brother’s cheek. “You poor neglected baby,” I say. “Doesn’t your mommy wuv you anymore?”

“I’ll always be her firstborn,” he says, swatting me. “You were just an accident.”

“What?” I gasp, feigning shock. “You didn’t want two babies in eleven months, Mom?”

“Oh, you two,” she says fondly. “All children are a blessing, yadda yadda yadda.”

Jack and I laugh. “Who sent you those, Mom?” I ask, pointing to a huge arrangement of roses and lilies on the dining room table.

“Oh, those are from Harry,” she coos. Jack shoots me a look. “Jack, I think Graham is stuck in that tree,” Mom adds, and the two of them go outside to rescue various and sundry children and intervene in a spat over who has to retrieve the soccer ball from the mud.

I go into the dining room and check out the bouquet. Very expensive. All the thorns have been taken off the roses, and the lilies are as pink and sexual as Georgia O’Keefe believed. I glance at the card: To an amazing woman who deserves to be celebrated on this special day. XOX Harry

“Bleechh,” I say, wondering what Dad would think. I make a face, then go into the living room where my sisters-in-law sit like empresses. Lucky is serving them Bloody Marys, as he should.

“Hi, Tara,” I say, handing my sister-in-law a card. “You’re a fabulous mother.”

“Oh, Chastity! This is so sweet of you!” Tara opens her card as I hand Sarah hers.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Sarah. You’re a wonderful mom,” I tell her with dutiful honesty.