I have a rule in business: When too many people tell me the same thing, I get my head out of my ass and listen to them. Maybe it’s time I applied it in real life as well.
I step into the living room to find Pippa and Julie sitting on the floor with their fingers sprawled on their legs.
It strikes me as odd until Julie looks up and says, “We’re waiting for our nail polish to dry.”
I nod, but Pippa captures my attention. She’s wearing one of my shirts and sweatpants, her hair up in a ponytail. She looks homey. More than that, she looks like she belongs here, with Julie and me.
“Sorry for hijacking your shirt and pants,” she says with a shy smile, pointing to a small transparent bag on the couch, which contains her wet dress. “Julie’s clothes don’t fit me, and Ms. Blackwell isn’t here, so I couldn’t ask her for clothes. Julie brought me these.”
“Don’t worry. They look good on you.”
“Our polish dried, honey,” she tells Julie. “Seems like the label wasn’t lying. It does dry fast.”
“Can we watch a movie?” Julie asks, making full use of the doe-eyed expression she knows I can’t fight.
Pippa replies before I even open my mouth. “If we start now, it’s going to get too late. Isn’t it bedtime for you?”
I watch Pippa with renewed admiration. She’s better at resisting Julie’s charms than I am.
My daughter wrinkles her nose. “I suppose it is.”
“Ms. Blackwell should be here any minute now. She’ll—”
As if on cue, the front door opens and Ms. Blackwell steps inside the house.
“Time for bed, Julie,” she says in her usual no-nonsense voice. She greets Pippa, frowning slightly as she takes in her clothes, but doesn’t comment on it.
Julie sighs, then goes to her room.
“I have to call a cab,” Pippa says. “I didn’t come here with my car.”
“I’ll give you a ride home,” I tell her, employing a tone that breaches no argument. Usually.
She dismisses my words with a wave. “Nonsense. I’ll be fine with a cab.”
“Yeah, but I’ll need those clothes back.” I actually don’t need them, but it’s as good an excuse as any. I want to spend more time with her.
“Ms. Blackwell is here. Maybe I can borrow some clothes from her?”
“I’d need to bring those back to her too,” I say.
“You’re right.” She takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders. “Okay, let’s go.”
Spending time with her turns into spending time next to her. Pippa falls asleep in the car within five minutes of typing her address into the navigator. As I drive, a faint wheezing sound fills the car. It takes me about two seconds to realize the sound comes from Pippa. Tiny snores. I chuckle and, in a stroke of genius, whip out my phone and record the silly sound. Ah, this will be excellent blackmail material. I’m not sure when I’ll need it, but it’s good to have it.
She wakes up before we arrive, yawning. Then she sees me, and she startles in her seat.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she said. She’s very cute with her frazzled hair and I-just-woke-up eyes. And just like that, I wonder what it’s like to wake up next to her in the morning. No idea where the desire comes from, but this seems to be a recurrent theme with Pippa. She creates in me the longing for things I haven’t wanted—or searched for—in years. She makes me want to live again.
“Did I say something inappropriate while I was asleep?” she asks in a shy voice. Ah, so she’s a sleep talker… and all I got were snores. No reason for her to know that, though.
Deciding to tease her, I say, “You might have professed your love for me.”
She narrows her eyes in suspicion.
“There was definitely something about my muscles in your mumbling.”
“You’re so full of shit.” She chuckles, but the tips of her ears are red. Aha. The cat’s out of the bag now.