Page 162 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
If we were young like Kit, this little reality we’ve carved could last forever, if we didn’t have grown-up problems and personalities and lives a million miles apart.
Fuck, maybe itcouldwork for three months. Six months. A year or two.
Then it implodes, and walking away becomes even more hellishly complicated.
“Dad,” Kit whispers, looking up at me. “Why didn’t you just tell me about you and Cleo? Why act like it’s some big secret?”
“I guess it shouldn’t be. Cut me some slack, kid. It’s pretty new and we don’t know what’s going to happen in the future.” I wish that wasn’t a lie when we know it has to end.
“Can’t you justdecide?”
“Not quite, munchkin. One of these days, you’ll get it.” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Okay, enough with the love advice, or I’ll have to start asking aboutyourboyfriends, and you’re not old enough for that.”
“You wish! I already have one,” she says matter-of-factly. “His name is Daniel and we have lunch together every day. He said I’m the smartest girl in his class.”
“He did, did he?” I stare through her, wondering if it’s more than an innocent crush and I’ll have to plan his murder.
“We even held hands the other day outside. But his hand was kinda sweaty so I might just break up with him.” She shakes her head.
I snort and chuckle.
Ten-year-olds. Gotta love ’em.
“Don’t you like him?” I ask, keeping my face perfectly straight.
“I liked that he likesme,” she says. “But I saw him picking his nose in the library when we were doing research for an English paper. Gross.”
“You’re right, thatisa deal-breaker. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”
“Does Cleo pick her nose?”
“That’s the end of this conversation.” I pick her up and carry her back to the kitchen as she laughs and punches me. “Help me clean up, and we’ll head over to the library for that book sale like you asked.”
“Oh, yeah! There’s supposed to be a poet too,” she says, still fighting me. “You’re going to take me to see him?”
Unfortunately.
It’s guaranteed to be boring as hell, some pretentious guy in a sweater with owl spectacles who thinks he’s God’s gift to American literature just because he’s in his twenties and took a couple of road trips.
But Kit saw him advertised and she hasn’t let me forget it.
“He does a lot of cool stuff with sea turtles. He worked at a turtle sanctuary for a while,” she says.
Fucking riveting.
I should just shut up and welcome the distraction. There’s plenty of time to fuss over Black Talon and the best way to get Cleo out of my life gently later.
“Dad, don’t look so glum. It’ll be great.”
“I made a promise, didn’t I?” I mutter. “You’re very lucky I keep my word.”
21
END OF THE RAINBOW (CLEO)
Ididn’t know how nice it would feel to get out of the house.
It’s not like Holden has kept me under lock and key.
