Guilt has caused me to pester Dad.
While reading my momma’s journal, it’s clear she fell for Charles's good looks when the two of them walked into the diner, but it wasn’t just that. Charles was warm, magnetic, charming. My dad was, well, awkward. She only dedicated a line or two to Jonah Whitson. As our conversation progresses, it’s clear some things never change.
“Where's the nurse?” My eyebrows stitch with worry, and I instantly forget about everything else.
Victor mouths, “You okay?” He situates wine, a cheese board, and fruit on a tray.
I smile my reply then look out at the clear ribbon of water. “Dad, I asked about the nurse?”
“Don't worry about that, Luxury. I'm getting around just fine.”
“Jonah Aaron Whitson, do you hear me?” I begin to reprimand.
“Child, don't start with me. I said—”
“Okay, have it your way. I'm coming home,” I cut in.
“No,” he says all too quickly. “Luxury, you call me every morning and every night. Isn’t that enough?”
“Don’t you miss me?” I pout as ducks frolic over the mossy grass.
“How’s Victor treating you?”
“This isn't about Vic and me. It’s about you.”You ornery old man.
“If he’s not treating you well, then I'll be on the first plane over to straighten him out.”
I almost smile. It would be a sight, my tiny dad trying to fight Victor. “Oh, Dad, stop that, and I know what you're doing.”
“What is that?”
“Sneaking around my questions. Mr. Genius, how about this? You’re very, very intelligent, but one thing that you sorely lack is social skills. Let me speak to the nurse.”
“Well, uh, she's cooking.”
Something in me feels unsettled. What is my dad up to?
22
Victor
Luxury ambles around our picnic site, and I pull out marmalade for the crackers while listening to a conversation that’s sending up red flags. I haven’t had a chance to visit the good old doctor Whitson. For a few weeks, I’ve been keeping Luxury under my thumb, making sure mother doesn’t try to corner her. Madeline’s childhood home, where she is staying, is a short distance away too. And most importantly, there’s showing Luxury a good time while she’s away from New York.
After she gets off the phone, Luxury reclines next to me on the blanket. Grabbing a plum, I place it at Luxury’s thick, pink lips, and she bites down. The syrupy liquid runs down her chin. After I lap it up with my tongue, Lux’s mouth opens like a budding flower. I groan, deepening the kiss. Her sweet little mouth tastes just as sweet as the plum.
“Vic, stop.” Luxury pulls away, looking around. I smile, knowing she isn’t comfortable having sex outside. Shaking my head, I sit up, pulling her with me.
We start on the charcuterie board when I notice I haven’t opened the wine. I look back in the wicker basket. There are no utensils to spread the marmalade and eat the salad, either.
“Let's take a walk back.” I begin to stand.
She gives a playful grumble. “But it took us forever to get here.”
I nod. We had walked at least three kilometers. “We won’t have anything to drink or eat with. Unless you want to eat like barbarians? And have no wine.”
She picks up her mother’s diary. “Damn, I hoped for a glass of Merlot. Do you mind if I stay here and read? Your legs are longer than mine.”
“Sure, I’ll return within the hour.” I rub the back of my neck.I had the fucking utensils . . . didn’t I?“Will you be okay if I leave you here for a while?”