Emptying the pockets, I feel something metallic. The TOP gift card.
I pause, turning it back and forth and watching the gloss shine red as it’s hit by the hallway light.
No. I’m not going to jerk off. Ian expects me to, and it’s just too fucking weird.
But he has a point. With all my cooking sessions with Amelie, the course I’ve been taking, and caring for Sadie full time, I haven’t had a whole lot of time for myself. And I guess it’d be nice not to do it silently in the shower for once.
“Fuck me.” I abandon my coat and step into the living room, moving past the couch and the small dining area. The kitchen is tucked away just out of sight, hidden behind a narrow corridor. I walk through it until I reach the kitchen island, its surfacescattered with papers and a couple of mugs that haven't been put away.
I grab the laptop and walk back, then settle at the dining table.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? Even though I have a daughter, and technically, a wife, it doesn’t mean I’m not a man. A human being. I shouldn’t have to stop living just because we’re all hurting. And besides, it’s not like I don’t watch porn. This is the same, except...live.
But as I type in the URL, I feel dirty. It still doesn’t seem right.
For months, I’ve put my needs on hold for Sadie and Josie. As ugly a thought as it may be, I feel like a grieving husband. Except it isn’t my wife who died, but the concept of family I’ve known for the past five years.
I stare at the red screen, the small text box asking me to create an account, then press my tongue against my molars. There’s no way I’d enjoy any of it, not with the sense of guilt already washing over me.
“What’s even the point,” I say to myself as I drop the card.
When the doorbell rings, I check the time. Nine thirty. Who could it be?
I don’t have a chance to be curious though because a moment later, I’m met with my brother’s broad shoulders and blue-green eyes. Kyle, standing next to him on my welcome mat, jerks his head forward and moves past me. “Hey. Where’s Sadie?”
I glance at the box he’s holding against his tank top as he heads for the living room, then focus on Logan. “Amelie and Ian are babysitting. Why?”
Logan shrugs. “He got her some dollhouse. I don’t know.”
“I told you guys you have to stop buying her shit. She’ll become spoiled.”
“She didn’taskfor it!” Kyle calls from the living room. “And besides, her mom is a?—”
“Kyle,” Logan interrupts, then turns to me with a resigned shrug as he enters the house. “Not that he’s wrong.”
I step aside and ask, “How are the twins? Primrose?”
“Everyone’s fine. And sleep deprived. And sleep deprived—wait, did I say that already?”
“It’s been happening all day,” I hear Kyle say. “He also tripped on a watermelon on the farm. It was awesome.”
“Newborns are fun, aren’t they?” I ask, thinking of Sadie at that age. And he hastwoof them—two beautiful girls, Harper and Maeve.
“Yeah.” There isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. “They’re really fun.”
“Well, I’m always happy to babysit. You guys want a beer or something?”
I follow him into the living room where he kneels next to the couch, opens the box, and takes out the dollhouse. Kyle returns from the kitchen, holding up two beers and pushing back a lock of his chocolate brown hair. “Way ahead of you, buddy.”
“Get me a screwdriver,” my brother says, and before I can tell him the toolbox is in the walk-in closet, Kyle lets out a loud “Ooh.”
Holding the TOP gift card, he gasps. “TOP, huh? Nice. I thought you were a step away from joining a monastery.”
“TOP? What’s TOP?”
Ignoring Logan, I walk toward Kyle. “I don’t know why everyone keeps saying shit like that. The divorce isn’t even official yet.”
“But you filed twoyearsago.”