Page 39 of Tell Me You Love Me

“That’s not true.” He tilts to the side and studies the feathered demon. “Two or three times, maybe. Not a hundred.”

“You’re still bigger.”And I distracted you with data. Ha!“If you stand your ground, I bet he won’t even come near you.”

“But—”

“You run, so he chases. It’s a game. But I promise, if he ever caught you, he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I hate him.” He reaches up and drags his glasses from his face. They’re fogged from his tears, so he hands them to me to clean. “I hate him so much, Mommy. I wish he never existed on this farm.”

“Well…” I use my shirt and wipe the lenses. “He’s so old now, honey, it would be impossible to re-home him. But if it makes you feel better, he’ll probably die soon.” I offer a wide smile, even if I feel like an idiot doing so. “He’s alreadylongpast his life expectancy. So now we just wait.”

“He’s healthy as a horse,” Bitsy declares from her window. Because, of course, she’s always enjoyed terrorizing children. “And all the extra exercise he gets now only helps.”

Horrified, Franky’s glittering eyes swing back to mine. “Mom?”

“He’ll leave you alone if you stand up to him.” I hand his glasses back and pull him closer. “Do you want to go on an adventure today? I have somewhere fun to take you.”

“Really?” Sniffling, he pulls back and searches my face. “Where? How far is it? How long will we be in the car? And do I have to wear shoes?”

So perfect. So sweet.So incredibly desperate to control the world around him.

“It’s only a few minutes away. Ten minutes in the car, at most, and that includes stopping by the grocery store to buy snacks. And no.” I lay a smiling kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to wear shoes if you don’t want to. Come on.” I straighten my legs and take his hand in mine. “You need to find shorts to swim in, though. And a hat, unless you want your nose to get a sunburn.”

“Swimming?” His lips wrinkle into displeased lines. “Do I have to wear my glasses?”

“Nope. You can leave them in our room. Did you have something to eat yet?”

He nods, glancing up at Bitsy’s bedroom window as we move toward the porch. We’ll use the door, of course. But my baby is observant. Inquisitive. “Why did you climb off the roof, Mommy? How did you do that?”

At least it’s not:how many times did you climb off the roof when you were seventeen because you were sneaking out to see a boy?

“Mommy magic,” I explain, a concept he’s scoffed at since he was old enough to think logically. It’s a bit like Santa. He knows, rationally, that these things cannot exist. But behind the autism and the kid whose brain is entirely too gifted, is a little boy whowantsto believe.

It creates a sliver of hope in a world he already knows is tough.

“Moms receive magic once they become moms, honey.” I lead him up the porch steps and tug the door open. “You were scared and in danger, so I was able to use my powers and practically jump out the window to save you.”

He walks ahead of me into the kitchen, glancing back with a gentle scowl. “Magic isn’t real.”

“It’s sad you think you need to say that.” I close the door and meet his disbelief with a grin. “But Iknowyou believe. You know how I know?”

He folds his arms, challenging and proud.

“I know because you’re scared to sleep in the dark at night. But you hold my hand, and suddenly, the dark doesn’t bother you anymore. It’s not like I turned on a light. I didn’t open the door or change anything else. The mere act of holding your hand makes everything better.” I scrunch my nose playfully. “Mommy magic.”

ROUND THIRTEEN

TOMMY

“Where are we going?” Chris drags his feet, stopping at the front of the truck and scowling while I toss towels in the back. “How long is the drive?”

“Jesus Christ.” I lift a cooler into the bed of the truck, my shoulder straining from the fifty pounds of ice and sodas, and fuck knows what else Eliza tossed in. “We’re just going to the lake.”

Suspicious, he looks straight past me. “Weareat the lake.”

“To the sandy inlet,” I drawl. “Five minutes, at most.”

“I’m not wearing shoes.” He pouts like a child, but produces keys and slides in on the driver’s side. Winding the window down, he slaps the side of his door and elicits a happy yelp as Eliza dashes out of my house and around to climb into the middle. “I’m only staying for an hour. You wanna stay longer than that, you can walk home.”

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