Tamed(50)

I run my hand through her hair and hold her tight. “Not ever, Delores. Promise.”

They’re the last words we speak before we both fall asleep.



Early the next morning, Dee wakes up just long enough to kiss me good-bye. I walk past Billy—dead to the world—on the couch and go home for a long shower. Then I drive up to Drew’s parents’ country place for the day’s festivities.

All the usual suspects are in attendance—John and Anne, Steven and Alexandra, George, and my mother and father. I make my way through the handshakes and hugs to the back sunroom, which affords a panoramic view of the pristine backyard. And a view of Drew—with Mackenzie—riding opposite ends of the very same seesaw we played on, as kids, a lifetime ago.

Although they seem to be engaged in a serious conversation, I walk out the back door anyway, to join them. Drew lets Mackenzie know I’m here and she jumps off the seesaw, runs, and throws herself into my arms like she hasn’t seen me for months. But I eat it up and give her a long hug when her little arms wrap around my neck.

Then I set her down and we walk back to Drew. “Hey, man,” he greets me.

“What’s up?” I ask. “You go out early last night? You never came back to the party.”

He shrugs. “My head wasn’t in it. I hit the gym and went to bed.”

Huh. That kind of behavior is weird for Drew, and I wonder if it has anything to do with his pissy attitude toward Kate and Billy at the party.

“You hung out with that Delores chick?” he asks.

I nod. And test the waters. “Her, Kate, and Billy.”

He shakes his head. “That guy licks ass.”

Mackenzie walks over to us and holds up the Bad Word Jar—Alexandra’s invention—to keep us in check around her kid. It’s simultaneously a bane of my existence and completely f*cking hysterical.

“He’s not so bad.”

Drew says, “Idiots annoy me.” And he loses another dollar.

I think he does it on purpose—actually curses more than he would if the jar didn’t exist. Like a twisted sort of reverse psychology, just to buck the system and show his sister that he won’t be controlled.

And maybe you’re wondering why I haven’t told him about Billy and Kate’s breakup? The answer is simple: Guys don’t f*cking gossip. We don’t talk about shit like that—other people’s relationship issues. We barely talk about our own relationship issues. It’s just that simple.

Plus, Drew would be on Kate like white on rice, if he knew she got dumped. Because everyone knows dumped chicks are low-hanging fruit. Easy pickings. I think it would give him an unfair advantage in their little battle of the sexes. One he doesn’t need.

Lastly, people break up all the time . . . only to get back together the very next day. Despite what Dee said, Billy seemed pretty devastated over Kate. I have a feeling he’s going to try for one more at bat before that particular game gets called.

There’s no point in getting Drew’s hopes up in the meantime.

“So what’s the deal with you and Delores?” he asks.

I smile. And keep it simple. “We’re hanging out. She’s cool.”

“I’m assuming you’ve nailed her?”

I frown. Because even though I know he doesn’t mean to be disrespectful, Dee’s not just some random chick. Hearing him talk about her like she is feels disrespectful. So I set him straight. “It’s not like that, Drew.”

Now he’s confused. “Then what’s it like, Matthew? You haven’t hung out in over two weeks. I can understand you being too *-whipped to come out if you’re getting some. But if not, what’s the deal?”

I wait for Mackenzie to approach us with the Bad Word Jar . . . but she doesn’t. Guess she didn’t hear that one.

Then I try to get Drew to understand, but since he’s never been in love with anyone except himself, I really don’t know if he can. “She’s just . . . different. It’s hard to explain. We talk, you know? And I’m always kind of thinking about her. It’s like the minute I drop her off, I can’t wait to see her again. She just . . . amazes me. I wish you knew what I meant.”

He warns me. “You’re in dangerous territory, man. You see what Steven goes through. This path leads to the Dark Side. We always said we wouldn’t go there. You sure about this?”

I just keep smiling. And in my best Darth Vader voice I tell him, “You don’t know the power of the Dark Side.”



This Thanksgiving dinner is definitely one for the record books. Or the scrapbooks. If I’d had my camera handy, I totally would have documented the entire hilarious, horrifying debacle. It was stupid of me to think the all-hearing Mackenzie didn’t pick up on Drew calling me “*-whipped.” She heard, all right. The reason she didn’t charge him was because she didn’t know it was a “bad word.”

After she repeated it at the Thanksgiving Day dinner table? Then she knew. And all hell broke loose.

I can’t help but chuckle again. Her asking Steven, “?‘Wha’s *-whipped, Daddy?’?” will forever live in my brain as the funniest f*cking thing I’ve ever heard. I was so shocked, I spit out the black olive in my mouth and almost blinded Steven when it hit him right in the eye. Drew’s father practically choked to death on his turkey and my mother knocked over her glass of wine—leaving a permanent reminder on Anne Evans’s lace table cloth.