Page 98 of Unstable

“I APOLOGIZE FOR KEEPING you waiting. Just now, as well as all evening,” I say to Mike and Bri when we return, my nipples in check…haven’t looked to see how Keaton and his hard-on are fairing behind me.

“I’d forgotten that Keaton didn’t know my exact plans either and couldn’t share with you, and then,” I grin down at her, “I got so caught up with Miss Brooke here, I didn’t realize how long it’d really been.”

“No apology necessary,” Mike offers. “We’ve had a nice time. The dinner was delicious and much obliged.”

“If you’re ready,” I take the seat Keaton’s once again pulled out for me, “I’d like to discuss your plans and thoughts, along with my own, now.”

Keaton sits beside me and links our fingers together, resting our joined hands on his thigh.

“That’d be great,” Mike answers, giving his wife a tense grin and sitting up straighter.

I announce I’m ready to talk, then clam up, palms sweaty. I suddenly have no idea how to open or exactly what to say. I’ve never been in their shoes—married, a child, chasing dreams that hinge on what ifs and most likely seem unattainable. And with the apprehension that comes with those thoughts, my throat begins to tighten.

Keaton, of course, picks up on my anxiety and speaks first.

“We didn’t go into a lot of details before, so why don’t you tell us…when you’re looking to move, what kind of payment you’re hoping for, and if your long-term goal is to own or simply rent?”

I rub our hands on his thigh, thanking him for always seamlessly picking up the ball when I drop it.

“Okay,” Mike adjusts in his seat, scratching his chin. “You taking this or am I?” He consults his wife.

Another point in this family’s favor in my mind. They’re a team—I like that.

“I can,” Bri answers him. “While you figure out why your daughter’s being so quiet over there.”

We all laugh and look over to investigate.

“Hey boy, I was wondering when you’d come say hello,” I coo at Bourbon, who’s finally joined the party, hiding under the table and gobbling up every bite of the food Brooke is sneaking him.

“What’s his name?” she asks, now that she realizes she’s caught. I bet she’s been dying to ask, but didn’t so as to keep their little arrangement concealed as long as possible.

I tell her it’s Bourbon and she giggles, turning a toothless smile on me. “Like the whiskey?”

Of course she knows what Bourbon is—probably knows how it’s made and where it originated too. Absolutely brilliant.

“Yes, like the whiskey,” my voice fades on the last word in reminiscence.

“Michael, how does your daughter know what whiskey and Bourbon are?” Bri asks, wearing a scowl that matches her tone.

“Really?” he says mockingly. “Brooke, honey, what are the five biggest states? In order from largest to smallest please.”

Her tiny nose scrunches and her mouth twists, then she spouts off, “Area or population?”

“Area is fine, sweetie.”

She ticks them off on her chubby little fingers. “Alaska, Texas, California, Montana, and New Mexico.”

“And how old is…Bill Clinton?” he asks.

It takes her about thirty seconds of more face scrunching. “Our forty-second President, William Jefferson Clinton, is sixty-nine.”

Mike doesn’t say a word, just turns to his wife and gives her a gratified smile. Keaton, on the other hand, can’t help himself.

“Holy shit. Oh, sorry, my bad on the cursing. But…is she right?” he asks in astonishment.

“Yes, she’s right,” Bri concedes with a huff. “I hate it when he does that. Heaven forbid I’d prefer she sticks to facts like those and not know about alcohol at six.” Memories of my own mother feeling the exact same way flash briefly through my mind. “But he loves to use that little game to remind me, there’s not much she doesn’t know.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy, I’ve never drank any.”

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