Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Fine,” she says, slapping my hand. “We went to the zoo in Central Park, but the line was too long for the penguins.”
“Bummer. Who did you see instead?”
“There are these super-creepy bats, like a foot long . . .” She holds her hands twice that far apart. “They hang upside down from the ceiling of the tropical room! And sometimes they fold and unfold their wings in their sleep.”
She mimes a gesture like Dracula opening and closing his cape, and I crack up. “Wow. But how do they poop if they’re upside down?”
She frowns deeply. “I don’t know. They don’t poop on themselves, right? Gross.”
“Gross,” I agree.
We both get distracted, though, by the muffled arguing coming from the kitchen.
“That is not what happened,” Mark’s voice says. “If you want to stay mad at me for something you did because you wanted to go to a baby shower, that’s on you.”
I look away from the kitchen door, as if I could silence them by ignoring them.
“Mommy is mad at Daddy,” Rosie says in a low voice. “I don’t like it when they yell.”
“All parents yell sometimes,” I point out. “Then they stop.”
She doesn’t seem convinced.
“You want to see a video on my phone? It shows a bunch of times that animals ran onto football fields in the middle of a game, and none of the players knew what to do.”
She perks up. “What kind of animals?”
“All kinds.” I open YouTube. “The bull is my favorite. I was there for that one. But the dogs are pretty funny too.”
She moves closer to me on the sofa until her little body is tucked right up next to mine. So I press play and then put an arm around her so we can both see the screen. We watch a bunch of athletes run around like nutters after various panting dogs. And the silly music drowns out the sound of her parents arguing in the next room about schedules.
But better schedules than . . . lifestyle choices.
Since ten minutes later, as Bridget leaves, she stops in front of the couch, then says through thin lips to us, “Good luck, you two.”
“Thanks,” I say, since Mark doesn’t say a word.
I remember what he told me in Miami about their marriage⏤the end of it was never about his orientation. But it’s always good to know the mother of your kid isn’t a homophobic selfish jerk. Maybe just a selfish jerk.
Sometimes, that’s all you can ask for, so I’m glad she gave that much to him.
Besides, Mark seems more interested in the two people on the couch. I catch him watching Rosie and me with a soft look on his face. He seats himself on his daughter’s other side and watches a Barcelona player catch a chicken in front of the goal.
When the video finally ends, he looks over Rosie’s head at me. “It’s four. Isn’t your car downstairs? Aren’t you worried about traffic?”
Holding his gaze, I slowly shake my head. “I should be, though. I suppose.”
“Is Asher going?” Rosie looks up from the phone. “Now?”
That’s as good a cue as any. “I have a plane to catch.”
“You could stay for dinner,” she says as I tuck my phone back into my shirt pocket.
I wish I could. “Maybe another time,” I say gently. I rise from the sofa and reluctantly grab my bag and head for the door.
Mark follows me. The vestibule is tiny, and not at all private. It’s just as well, or I’d probably maul the guy again and miss my flight.
“Take care of yourself,” Mark says, his voice like gravel.
“You too,” I whisper.
From the sofa comes a question. “Are you going to kiss him again, Daddy?”
I find this query startling, but Mark does not. He holds my gaze, his eyes warming. “I am, cupcake.”
Then he lifts a hand to my chin, steps closer, and gives me a kiss so sweet and tender that I have to close my eyes and just experience it.
It’s over way too soon. “Goodbye, Ash,” he whispers. “Talk soon.”
“I can’t wait,” I whisper. Then I wave goodbye to Rosie and leave the apartment, before I lose my nerve.
49
I HATE TIME
MARK
The next three months are heaven and hell.
Asher carves out two days in October to get away, and we spend an autumn weekend in the city that makes me want to stop time. We go to bed together, we wake up together, and we visit Caroline⏤my niece, his goddaughter⏤since Hannah and Flip had a little girl. In November, I fly to Paris for Veteran’s Day, and the capital of France is better than I imagined, especially since my tour guide speaks French.
In my ear.
My favorite French words are the ones he mutters in that husky voice he uses when we’re naked, grinding together. He could be telling me to do the laundry or wash his socks and it’d still make me shudder.