Page 23 of Napkins and Other Distractions
The guitar solo floods the walls of my car. All I want is to see Kent’s smile. Something pops deep inside my core when his lips turn up, his entire silver beard moving with them. I need to look forward, not back. Maybe I’m confusing the intense attraction with real emotion? My thumb finds the volume rocker on the steering wheel and cranks the music, attempting to overtake thoughts of a sexy, slightly younger St. Nick with a fuzzy chest and thick dick.
After a twenty-minute ferry ride, I find myself wrapped in my late January warmest jacket at the front door of Marvin and Olan. As their relationship flourishes, I’m reminded that we were destined to be friends. While he’s completely adorable, Marvin’s almost ten years younger than me, and Kent’s shown me that being the younger one really melts my butter. Memories return. Running my hands up and down Kent’s stomach, his delicious dick filling my lips. Words of praise flooding me with pleasure. I shake my head, push my erection down, and ring the doorbell.
“Vincent!” Olan Stone, Marvin’s fiancé, opens the door. His tooth gap greets me smack in the middle of his Hollywood smile. Olan’s deep ebony biceps stretch his T-shirt and how I ever thought I could compete with this guy is beyond me.
“Olan,” I begin, and spot small hands wrapped around his thigh, “and Illona, how are you?”
Her cute face peeks around her dad’s waist. A small smile cracks into a giant one, revealing her dimples, and it’s no wonder Marvin’s the happiest guy I know.
“Come in, it’s frigid out. How was the ferry?”
“A little rocky, but I stayed inside,” I say, slowly untangling myself from my winter gear.
“Smart,” Marvin calls from the kitchen. He’s pouring the seltzer he loves from a dark blue bottle. “Lemon?”
“No thanks,” I reply with a grin. According to an article I read, citrus rinds can harbor a surprising amount of dirt and bacteria. Nobody needs salmonella doing backstrokes in your beverage.
Before I know it, I’m enveloped in a huge embrace. Marvin’s arms wrap around me, squeezing, and I take a deep breath. I hug him back and allow the closeness to ground me. When I pull back, Illona stands near me, and I know she wants a hug, too. I’ve gotten better at picking her up. Marvin explained things to her, for sure, because she checks in way more than any child naturally would.
“Your turn,” I say, and she holds her arms up. As I lift her, the pressure of her legs wrapped around my waist settles in, her embrace filled with love and affection.
“How’s this? Not too tight, right?” she asks.
“Nope. You’re perfect,” I whisper into her ear. And she is—the sweetest angel.
I’ve never even thought about having children. I’d need a partner, right? I don’t think I could handle it on my own. Who am I fooling? I don’t think I could handle it with an army of nannies. Children are … a lot. And infants? Baby food. Diapers. And the snacks. A cacophony of crumbs. Bloody knees. Mud. That would be a big fat no.
But Illona is Olan’s daughter. Marvin will be her stepfather soon. And she’s so courteous. In small doses, I can handle this.
“I’ll keep Gonzo away from you,” she says, and maybe I’d be okay with a child like her. “I ate already. Mac and cheese with a little baked chicken. You’re having baked chicken with just a little mac and cheese.”
As if summoned, Gonzo saunters in and rubs on my leg. The only thing worse than children—pets. Dogs. Cats. And don’t get me started on hamsters. A literal rodent in the house. Hell no.
Illona jumps down, scoops the feline up, cuddles him like a baby, and says, “Now we’ll go play in my room and let Daddy and Marvin have adult time with Vincent.” She kisses his head, and phlegm crawls up my throat.
“One movie, sweetheart,” Olan says, patting her shoulder. “Holler if you need anything.”
With a wave, she and the beast fly up the stairs. Without a word, Marvin turns the faucet on for me.
Having friends who make an effort to understand how my brain works has made a world of difference for me. No explaining. No apologizing. It’s a game-changer.
Standing at the sink, scrubbing my hands from the contact and in preparation to eat, I sigh. The good kind. Olan threads his hands under Marvin’s arms and hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Marvin’s shoulder. I’m grateful they’re comfortable showing affection in front of me. My lips part as I watch them. Someday. Maybe I’ll be comfortable with so much closeness.
“Marvin tells me you’re seeing someone?” Olan asks.
“Saw. Seen. Was seeing,” I say. “It’s complicated.”
“Wait, what happened?” Marvin moves away from Olan and grabs a pot and casserole dish from the stove. “I thought you were super into him?”
“I am. Was,” I correct. “But we’re working together. It’s not professional.”
“Um, hello. You’re talking to the teacher who had a secret affair with the parent of one of his students.” Marvin uncovers the food, the savory aroma filling the room. “Unprofessional is the goal. It’s hot.”
Olan comes from behind, his clear favorite way to approach, and kisses Marvin’s neck.
“I concur.”
“Well, I’m not trying to lose my job,” I say. “After the snafu at the last school, I need this to go smoothly. Falling for the hot, gray-bearded principal isn’t going to help.”
