Page 49 of Give & Take

“Is she mean to you?”

“She makes me clean my room.”

“Do you think that’s fun for her?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s not. Trust me. It sucks. But if she doesn’t teach you to clean up after yourself, you’re going to be a disgusting grownup.”

Lana sucks in a breath.

I keep going. “I lived in a house with four teenage boys, and if you’ve never smelled one of those before, they’re revolting. They smell like wet socks and B.O. and two week old pizza. And garbage. And things with mold growing off ofthem.”

Nova wrinkles her nose. “My tummy already hurts.”

“And if they don’t learn how to clean up now, they’re either going to be on TV shows about people who can’t see over the piles of garbage in their house, or if they get married, their wives are going to end up being the ones who shoulder all the burden of the work they never had to learn to do. Is that fair?”

I don’t think she caught all the words, but she gets the gist. “No,” she mumbles.

“Not at all. So do it for feminism.”

“Kind of a stretch,” Lana mumbles.

But my chest loosens. Because if she’s not too angry to be regular-irritated with me, I think we’re going to be okay.

Nova’s expression is confused, but we’ve reached the van. I toss our bags into the trunk and help get the kids in. Then I close the door.

Before Lana can reach for the handle, I press a hand on it. Gently.

“Hey,” I say. “Would it help if I told you I was distracted? That’s why I let them go overboard?”

“So distracted you couldn’t help buy all the donuts?”

I run a hand through my hair. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

“I get it, pretty girls are distracting.”

I let out a laugh. “Oh Lana.”

Something flashes behind her eyes.

I don’t look away. “It wasn’t those girls occupying my mind.”

She blinks, but her cheeks flash an extremely becomingshade of pink.

I take Lana’s hand, surprised once again at the way my body temperature seems to ratchet up exactly where our bodies connect. God, it’s the same every time. Someone should study this phenomenon. Right now it’s just my palm against the back of hers, but the sensation is so charged I have to meet her eyes to see if she feels it too. Sheisstaring, brow furrowed, at our hands. But that might be because right now I look like someone who doesn’t know how handshakes work.

Finally I manage to clear the encroaching thoughts of wondering just how touching her in other ways might feel and remember what I was doing. I press the car keys into her palm and pull my hand away, shoving it safely in my pocket.

Lana stares down at the keys, then up at me, that little line between her brows etched in confusion. “You’re not coming?” she asks.

I smile, but shake my head. “I’m going to walk. I think you’ve seen enough of me for one day.”

Chapter 15

Lana

That night, after closing the door to Nova’s room for what I hope is the last time, I perk my ears. Downstairs I hear the thud and clink of Raphael, down in the laundry room.

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