Goldie’s grin brings some life back into my exhausted body. “She said he’s a total sizzler who looks good holding a baby.” She wrinkles her nose as Jett jerks her forward slightly, grabbing her necklace with his superhuman baby strength. “She said he looked really familiar to her.”
My head throbs, but even in the agony and whirring, I remember my mom saying that to Beau, too. “She watches too much TV. Everyone reminds her of someone on a TV show that came out fifteen years ago that she’s just now discovering.”
Goldie snorts, shifting Jett back to her other hip. People underestimate how much being adorable weighs because holding Jett has given my arms more tone than any workout ever did. Well, I didn’t really ever work out, so it wasn’t hard, but still, I find it funny watching her shift him around like a sack of potatoes.
“Yeah? What’s she into now?”
I smirk because years back, Goldie and I watched this together, too. Us and a bottle of whipped cream-flavored vodka. “Lost.”
“Oh shit,” Goldie whispers. “She’ll really hate it; you know that?” She faces Jett and pats his head. “Sorry, Jett, I meantshoot. Don’t curse.” She faces me, blinking her long lashes. “There.”
I roll my eyes. “Attempt not cursing? Please?”
“Okay, okay.” She kisses Jett’s head before giving in and lowering him to the ground. Coughing, he plucks a teething ring from his basket of toys and goes to town. Maybe he’s just teething, and only I’m sick? I look up at Goldie, who has been watching me intently.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks softly, and I realize then that I am someone others often speak to gently like I am walking the edge of a tall cliff or something.
I have harbored so much anger and resentment toward Dustin that some days, I can hardly fucking breathe. And I take it out on everyone around me. Everyone except Jett.
So it makes sense that she is giving me that look now when I really just don’t feel good and that's all that's wrong. “I was just wondering if Jett is sick, too, or just teething.” Shrugging, I make my way to the counter to collect my now cold coffee Goldie brought. I’d slammed a cup of my own before the tea earlier, but I don’t feel caffeinated at all. My head throbs. Popping it into the microwave, I rest against the counter and catch her eyeing me.
“It’s a lot to do on your own, isn’t it?” Her tone brings heat to the back of my neck and makes my eyes a little warm.
“Very,” I admit, not feeling pitied or judged butvaluedandseen. “I never planned on doing it alone.”
“You don’t have to.” Her answer is so immediate, so natural, that I forget for one split second that Dustin and I aren’t together. It’s so quick–you don’t have to–that my brain finishes her sentence with ‘because you have Dustin. Duh.’
The microwave beeps, so I face my coffee when I say, “Beau is so young. I want to believe that whatever thing we have now can bloom into something more, but… again, I wanted to be a mortician, and now I help women make vases because they’re bored.”
“Don’t do that.”
I give her a questioning look when I finally turn to face her, blowing gently against the dark surface of my coffee.
“Don’t act like what you do is frivolous and stupid when it’s awesome and you love it.”
After I swallow my first sip, I say, “you’re right. I’m just–”
“Worried.”
I nod and take another sip. It isn’t good reheated, but bad coffee is better than no coffee. So I drink unceremoniously until I find the bottom of the paper cup.
“So… let Johnny Depp in.”
That earns her a grin because, “why did you call him Johnny Depp?” I ask through a chuckle.
“Your mom says he looks like Johnny Depp inCrybaby.”
I consider the star in the old 1990 movie. The coif of chocolate hair styled to shove off his slick palm, the wide grin that makes your skin go hot and your legs pull tight. I don’t know who I’m describing–Beau or… Johnny Depp.Jesus.
“Yeah,” I say, a little breathless–which of course, makes Goldie erupt with laughter. She wiggles her finger at me, shaking her wrist.
“You totally have the hots for him, and he’s totally hot!!” She socks me in the arm, and I laugh, rubbing the spot where she hit. She doesn’t quit. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
I mock offense. “Why wouldn’t he be hot? What do I attract, bridge trolls and…” I try to think of the most repulsive man I can, but there are too many to count. “Losers?”
She shrugs, like the insinuation is nothing, then waves her hand down. “Shut up. You know that’s not what I meant. You just… left me in suspense!”
I grin because I can’t help it.