Page 27 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

Now the lawn chair actually had cushions, and I was gagged by a pair of YOLO panties. That shit was humiliating, and I was the girl who showed up to school with a sock on her ass.

A plastic apple bounced off my cheek while Knox laughed.

Great, even my nephew enjoyed my torment.

Were there any good men out there? Did I want a good man? Don’t get me wrong, romance was fine and all, but there was something dark and depraved about the way Gio looked at me. As if he wanted to devour me whole, then spit me back out.

It was oddly exciting. Maybe I liked that kind of thing? Or maybe Gio Mancini was that ridiculously attractive? I was still a girl with hormones, after all.

I tipped my head, causing the wide brim of my flowery hat to flop. “What do you think, Knox?”

He answered me by blowing a raspberry.

“I see your point.” I nodded my head. “And I couldn’t agree more.”

Pbbbbt was the best answer.

Suck my son’s cock…

Pbbbbt.

Take your clothes off…

Pbbbbt.

Crawl like a dog…

Pbbbbt.

Everything was just Pbbbbt.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to dwell on things today because Maw Maw stuck me with babysitting duty. Another by-product of my suspension. Ever tried to ponder on the hotness of a guy while a baby was laughing? Yeah, those two things didn’t mix well. In fact, that shit was the best birth control on the planet.

One look at Knoxy’s chubby cheeks was all it took to remind me of what could happen if I didn’t gird my loins.

Knoxy smiled and sang, “Nah, nah, nah.”

“Ah yes, of course. I agree.” I daintily picked up the pink plastic tea pot. “You should have some more tea.”

He laughed and slammed his hands down on the blanket I’d laid out on the floor, causing the cup I was pretending to fill to clatter and fall over.

I sighed and watched it roll along the floor.

Tea parties and highchairs didn’t mix well, so we were forced to do it picnic style, which wouldn’t have been a problem if Knox would sit still. When he wasn’t crawling through the dishes I’d painstakingly placed, he was tugging on the floppy brim of my flower covered hat.

A chubby baby foot kicked out, knocking a fake loaf of bread in my lap.

Knox’s hands clapped together as I looked down at and picked up the plastic food.

“This isn’t a football, Knoxy.” Though it was kind of in the shape of a football. “It’s food.”

He took my words way too literally. Knox reached out, snatched the loaf out of my hand, and promptly stuffed the tip in his mouth.

Why couldn’t Veda have had a girl? I prepared for a girl. I even bought some cute pink outfits when she was pregnant–that she wouldn’t let me dress my nephew up in. It wasn’t like it would mess him up. He was a baby for Christ’s sake. His biggest worry at the time was Mommy’s boobs.

“We really have to work on your manners, Knox.”

There was a fine etiquette to tea parties that one had to follow. Kicking food around wasn’t part of that etiquette. That kind of defeated the purpose of my horrible British accent. No duchess ever had to deal with this, or the amount of slobber Knox was gumming onto that fake loaf.

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