But things have changed. We talk on the phone and text to check in with each other. One time I casually suggested we eat dinner when he came over, so I made grilled chicken.
Another time he showed up as I was trying to change a battery in a chirping smoke detector. He immediately shooed me away from the ladder and handled it. He then said I needed to change all the batteries and went around my condo and did exactly that.
When he was done, he said, “You call me if you need help with these types of things.”
That admittedly caused some fluttering in my belly.
Riggs has also shown more interest in my school activities, asking questions about my dreams and vision for the future. In turn, I’m trying to learn more about hockey, and he is all too happy to teach me what I need to know. Still, it’s really about the sex for us, but we are committed to monogamy, and it’s better than ever. There are no limits between us.
And in a very interesting turn of events that solidified things have definitely changed between us, we discussed safe-sex practices and decided to do away with the condoms. We both have safe histories, and I’m on the Pill.
And yeah, sex got even better without the condoms. It’s more intimate, and it speaks to things we’re too afraid to address.
Riggs and I follow Janelle through a maze of art exhibits that have been set up around the gymnasium. Janelle is exhibiting her watercolors. It doesn’t mean that watercolor is where her true and final passion is. She loves sketching and is also working with clay, but watercolor is something she’s keen on right now.
When I see the three paintings she’s done, I’m so blown away by the talent and beauty, I don’t understand how she could ever choose another discipline.
“These are spectacular,” I say as I study them. Turning to look at her, I find her beaming back. “Can I commission you to paint something for my apartment?”
Janelle’s eyes go round. “Really?”
“Really,” I say decisively. “These are better than many professional artists I’ve seen.”
Janelle’s head whips to her brother as if she can’t quite understand or accept the compliment.
He nods and smiles. “They are amazing, kiddo. Your talent is incredible.”
Even though we’re only here to admire Janelle’s work, we politely walk around the entire gym. It doesn’t take long for Janelle to break away from us and find her friends. Riggs and I have a good time, critiquing the art, always finding something nice to say but then muttering under our breaths to each other how much better Janelle is than her classmates.
Obviously, we’re biased.
After about forty-five minutes, Janelle rushes up to Riggs and me with another girl in tow. I don’t know her, but Riggs says, “Hi, Melody.”
“Hi, Mr. Nadeau,” she replies, flashing a mouthful of braces. “Me and my parents want to know if Janelle can come to dinner with us, and then can she stay the night at my house?”
Riggs looks to his sister, staring back at him expectantly. She now has a social life, and she’s embracing it. “Well, if you don’t want to hang out with your fuddy-duddy brother tonight, I suppose it’s okay.”
Janelle throws her arms around Riggs’s neck and hugs him. It’s not that he gave her anything spectacular, because he’s let her have sleepovers before—it’s because he joked with her about it, and he had every intention of spending the evening hanging out with her. And yet he acknowledges her need to have friends.
In essence, Riggs is the parent she’s always needed.
A moment that chokes me up with emotion.
After arrangements are made to transfer care of Janelle over to Melody’s parents, Riggs and I leave the gymnasium. When we’re away from everybody and getting ready to step into the parking lot, I make a suggestion. “Interested in coming over to my place and seeing the sexy lingerie I bought today?”
Riggs doesn’t answer right away, his gaze cutting across the lot as if he’s pondering my offer. For a beat, my heart sinks—I don’t understand why he’s not jumping on this. After all, we’re only about the sex, and he really, really likes it when I wear sexy lingerie.
When his eyes slide back to mine, he says, “How about we first go to dinner somewhere nice? Maybe take a walk along the river.”
I stare at him, confused, sure I’ve heard him wrong.
He chuckles. “Yes, as in a date.”
My eyebrows draw together and my expression becomes skeptical. “Who are you, and what have you done with Riggs?”
Shaking his head, he takes me by the elbow and escorts me across the parking lot. “We’ll go to your place after, and you can model the lingerie for me.”
I can get on board with all this.
It doesn’t start to feel weird, though, until we get to the restaurant. On the way there, we chatted about Janelle and her artistic talent. She’s applied and been accepted to a couple of universities she was interested in, but none of them have a stellar art program. She had not thought about art as a major, but it’s a conversation Riggs needs to have with her now.