Page 156 of You've Got Hate Mail
If nothing else breaks.
If we book enough events.
Fuck moving. Fuck all the reasons it might still be a good idea.
I want to stay. I want to stay and do my part. I want to be part of this family.
“Why do the grapes need so much help?” Lav asks.
Cricket launches into an explanation of how individual plants die and need to be replaced, how they sometimes get sick and need medicine, how someone has to watch the grapes grow andmake sure they get picked at the right time, while Iaccidentallymess up her braids four more times.
But eventually, Lav starts shooting me funny looks, so I finish up Cricket’s hair, she finishes up her explanation of the grapes, and Lav asks her to walk with us to the main house.
“I still have to shower,” Cricket says, which doesn’t do anything to calm the vivid images racing through my imagination or the way my dick leaps to attention either. “But I’ll meet you over there after I’m cleaned up and have checked on The Cluckinator.”
“Okey dokey, hokeypokey,” Lav says.
Cricket gives Lav’s braid a playful tug. “Later-tater, alligator. Thanks for telling me about your dream and letting me have breakfast up here.”
“You’re welcome.”
Cricket glances up at me and smiles again. “Later, Heath.”
I grunt in response like a freaking caveman, which makes her smile even bigger.
And then I remember I have work to do today.
I can’t follow her around like a lost chicken.
And I shouldn’t want to.
Not when I have other, more critical things to worry about in life beyond having feelings for a woman for the first time in forever.
27
P.S. WE’LL MISS YOU
Cricket
Today isn’tmy favorite day.
It should be.
The orgasm Heath sent me to bed with last night—then breakfast with him and Lav this morning—and knowing he’ll sneak into my room again tonight after Lav’s in bed—this should be everything.
Except the mother-in-law house stuff took longer than anticipated today, Lav’s been cranky because she didn’t get enough sleep, we can’t find the right pink hair dye, Heath was very clear that we’re not entering relationship territory because he doesn’t date, and on top of it all, now we’re all at dinner together.
Which should also be something wonderful, but tonight, it’s bittersweet.
It’s Elizabeth’s last dinner with us. She has an early flight back to Charlotte first thing tomorrow morning.
“You sure you’re ready?” Samantha asks her.
She beams. Her hair is a brilliant magenta, she’s in a new dress, and I’ve never seen her smile so big. “To kick that bag of dirt to the curb and take charge of the rest of my life? Absolutely. I’m going to paint my bedroom pink and put otters in every room in the house and get a pet parrot and eat girl dinner every single night.”
“I tried eating a girl for dinner once,” Pip says. “Wasn’t my thing.”
Heath and I make eye contact, then both instantly look away before anyone sees us.
