“Yes, but what about the money I deposited in your account?” I growl. “That should help, right? Use it for spa treatments. Or at least quit one of your jobs.”
Marcy is quiet for a second.
“I suppose I could, but I guess I enjoy working,” she says. “Especially at the Estee Lauder counter, and you know that some of my babysitting clients have been with me for years, so I can’t leave them high and dry. Don’t worry though,” she says with a smile. “I’ve definitely cut back on my shifts at Sanctum, and I haven’t been with any other men since we were together.”
“Good,” I growl as my blood begins to boil. “No other man touches you while you’re with me.”
“Of course not,” she soothes, her thumb stroking along my palm. “It’s only been you, Jared.
“But what drives you?” I encourage, forcing myself to stay calm. “What gets you going?”
Marcy thinks for a moment.
“I think other people drive me, to be honest. That’s why I like working at the cosmetics counter. I get to meet so many interesting people, and whenever I do complimentary makeovers, a lot of them end up telling me incredible life stories that you wouldn’t believe.”
“Really?” I ask curiously. “Like what? I thought all your customers were either teeny boppers or seventy year old women.”
Marcy smiles.
“Yes, a lot of them are, but the seventy year old ladies are the best. One even confided that she used to be a stripper back in the day,” she giggles. “I kept trying to picture it in my head, but it was tough.”
I stare.
“Seriously? A stripper?”
Marcy nods.
“Yeah, and I think she was serious too. She said that she used to work at O’Farrell’s in San Francisco, which still exists to this day,” Marcy gabs. “But she said she was a high earner not from her dancing skills, but because back then, not a lot of girls got totally nude. However, she’d squat down in her bikini bottoms and pull the gusset away to show men her pussy. That’s how she got the big tips.”
I practically choke on my beer.
“And a seventy year old woman was telling you this?”
Marcy nods.
“Yes, and she said she has ten grandchildren now too.”
At that, I begin howling with laughter.
“Holy shit, I’m going to have to get a job at the Estee Lauder counter too,” I say while gasping for breath. “What a fucking riot!”
“I know,” Marcy giggles. “That’s why I like the job. It’s the people I meet that really make it interesting. Like you,” she says meaningfully. “I met you through both Sanctum and Child Mine.”
I nod. I’m just about to say something in return, but then my words are interrupted by the arrival of the food.
“Viv,” I tap my daughter lightly on the arm to signal that it’s time to put away her coloring and headphones. “Look! Extra black olives, just like you asked for.”
“Yummy!” Vivi exclaims. “Marcy, will you cut my pizza for me?”
“Oh no, Vi, I’ll do it,” I start to interrupt.
Marcy smiles gently before I can move.
“I’ve got it,” she murmurs. “Here you go, Viv.”
“Oh wait, I like littler um… what’s this shape called again?” Vivi holds up her fingers in the shape of a triangle.
“Ah ha, a triangle,” Marcy informs her solemnly. “So, like this?” she holds up a slice of pizza cut into half its size.
“That’s perfect,” Vivi smiles widely, clearly in awe of Marcy. “I wish you could cut up my pizza all the time.” Then, my daughter seizes a piece of pie and takes a huge bite, smacking her lips with enthusiasm.
“Hey what about me?” I ask, feigning like my feelings are hurt. “Don’t I get some?” I give my daughter my best puppy dog eyes and she giggles, tomato sauce dripping out of her mouth.
“No, Marcy likes olives,” Vivi points out, as if that explains everything. “Not like you, Daddy.”
I throw back my head and roar with laughter. “Okay, I think I’m officially being replaced as parent,” I tell my woman good-humoredly. “She definitely prefers you.”
Marcy merely giggles.
“Well, if I knew that all I had to do was provide olives and cut pizza into triangles, then I would have had a kid years ago,” she says with a fond look at my daughter. But that’s when I feel my heart clench once more.
So she wants children, I muse to myself as I busy myself getting a slice. Would she want a baby with me?
Holy fuck, where is this coming from? I just escaped a terrible marriage, and now I’m a single dad, which isn’t exactly the easiest job in the world. And yet, I’m thinking of having another child? My heart races as I try to look normal, taking a bite of my pizza.
But it’s true. As I look at Marcy and Vivi giggling together, the gorgeous woman’s brown curls bounce as she helps my daughter wipe her mouth. Marcy looks like a maternal goddess, and I could easily see that form growing swollen and heavy with a baby inside. Hell, I’d love it if it was my baby. Seeing her waddle around like a hippo, groaning as she sat? Yeah, that would be perfect.