Eighteen (18)(47)

And it’s not like she’s a difficult baby or anything, but he’s managing. Maybe he did love Jill, but that’s a huge character flaw in my mind. What kind of man loves a drug addict? And it’s not like he met her before she was a druggie, fell in love, and decided to stick by her in bad times. No, that bitch was a two-timing whore. I know I should not speak of my sister like that, but it’s the truth. She was cheating on her last boyfriend with Jason, and Jason knew about that.

So what kind of guy picks a girl like her? And how come stupid girls like her always get picked by guys who want to marry them, and I get drug dealers and teachers with inappropriate sexual fantasies?

I breathe deeply as I stew in my anger and then Olivia changes everything when she smiles at me. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m not a very good aunt to you, am I?”

I wash Olivia with a tiny pink washcloth and then run the water again so I can rinse her off. By the time I’m done she’s so sleepy, she can barely keep her eyes open. So I dress her in a little peach-colored baby pajama set and place her in the crib in Jason’s room.

I walk back out into the living room and scream. “Jesus Christ, Mateo! What the f*ck are you doing in here?”

He’s standing in my kitchen with a brown paper bag that smells better than it has a right to. “Feeding you. Since you left me with that guilt trip about using your money for bus fare and blah f*cking blah about Danny motherf*cking Alexander.”

“Get out,” I say, pointing to the patio slider. I want that food so bad, but no. He’s not going to barge his way into my life anymore. Fuck that.

“No,” he says, placing the bag on the counter and getting out two plates.

“Mateo.” I point up at him now, furious and still shaking from the shock. “Get—”

“No,” he growls louder. “Just calm the f*ck down and tell me what happened.”

“I told you what happened.”

“About the part where you had to go to the ER, Shannon.”

“Like you care.” I fold my arms across my chest.

“Obviously,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I care. Or why the hell would I be here?”

“Who knows? You have some sick fascination with young girls? You want to f*ck me. You don’t want Danny to f*ck me.” His eye twitches at that remark and I get a little bolder. “You like power, or making teenagers suck your dick in a classroom. You—”

He takes two steps towards me and crosses the safe distance between us, making me move back. But he catches me by the arm and pulls me close to him. “You can say all those things because you’re mad, I don’t care. But if you believe all those things, we have a serious problem.”

“Why shouldn’t I believe those things?”

“Because I like you, Shannon. I’m here. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I’ll make it up to you. And you’re going to forgive me, because you know I’m telling the truth.”

“I don’t know that, actually.”

He sighs again, and then he twirls me around, pushes me towards the counter, and presses me against it so I’m looking out the window over the kitchen sink. His breath is coming out in long draws, tickling the skin on the back of my neck. And each time it does, his chest presses against my back. His fingers snake up underneath my shirt, and he grabs the cup of my bra and yanks it down, making my nipple spill out into his palm.

He squeezes.

Fuck.

“Give me your left hand,” he whispers into my neck.

Now what is he up to? I want to ask, but he’ll just give me one of those exasperated sighs, and bark, Shannon. Do what you’re told. So I hold out my left hand, palm up, and he lets go of my breast so he can wrap his arms all the way around me and take my hand in his.

“Pay attention,” he says. And then he uses his finger to draw on the palm of my hand. “What did I just write?”

Really? He wants to play games?

“Answer me, dammit.”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “Do it again.”

He does it again and this time his touch tickles my palm so bad, I can feel it tingle long after he stops. “What did I write?”

I take a breath, but my eyes close. Why does he make me feel this way?

“Shannon,” he barks. “Fucking answer me.”

“The square root of two over two,” I say.

“Why did I write that?”

“It’s those stupid coordinates on the unit circle test that I didn’t know.”

“God, sometimes I think you’re deaf. Because if you’re not deaf, then I have to wonder why you deliberately refuse to listen to me. Why did I write that?”

“Dick,” I say. “Because you’re gonna tell me something about it.”

His hand steals back inside my shirt and palms my breast again. “Good girl. Finally you’re paying attention. It’s a trick, Shannon. A game to help you remember the x and y coordinates. You told me the first day we met your memory is what makes you smart. Unlike you, I listen to the things you tell me, so I came up with a plan to use your talent to help you pass trig. And if you had let me show it to you earlier instead of insisting on taking a test you were so clearly not ready for, you’d be in a better mood right now, I guarantee it.”