“Ten would be great. Thanks so much for inviting her. Um, Dakota’s birthday’s in a couple of weeks. It’s been a tough year so we weren’t going to do anything other than a family dinner and some cake, but if you two would like to come, that might make it more of a party?”
Ty looks up at me with not just his heart but his entire soul in his eyes. Poor kid. I grin at him.
“Sounds great. Are you guys ice cream eaters?” At her nod, I continue, “Cause my friend makes the best ice cream cakes on the entire East Coast and if Dakota’s okay with an ice cream cake, I’ll bring one.”
Total lie. There is a place two blocks over that makes custom cakes, but I don’t know anyone there and they don’t know me from Adam. Pretty sure they’ll take my credit card with a smile, though.
I hear an excited, high-pitched, “Awesome!” in the background, which makes my grin widen.
LouAnn blinks rapidly. “That would be amazing. Thank you so much. You’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“Definitely not. We’ll see you at seven-thirty. Anything Dakota won’t eat? Any allergies?”
LouAnn shakes her head. “She’s easy. To feed, I mean. She’s easy to feed.”
I smile gently. I know the feeling of stumbling over my words trying to fill those awkward gaps. I’ve only been semi-smooth with her on the phone because I know Ty’s counting on me.
“Great. Don’t bring anything, okay? I’ve already got everything.”
LouAnn’s face sags in what looks like relief, and I wonder exactly how tough a year they’ve had. “If you’re sure.”
“I am. Call if anything comes up between now and then, okay? C’mon, my man, let’s go play some ball.” I ruffle Ty’s hair again, to his protests.
LouAnn says goodbye and ends the call. Ty punches me in the shoulder, affectionately I think, but the skinny kid is building some muscle.
“Ow,” I protest.
“She’s coming over,” Ty says, like he can’t quite believe it.
“She is. Better than her saving you a seat on the bus, huh?”
“So much better.” His face pinches in suddenly. “What if I mess it up?”
Manny chuckles. “You’ll do that plenty, kid. Be ready to spend half of your life groveling.”
I laugh with him but something in me revolts. I don’t want to grovel. I want something different. What, I’m not exactly sure. Maybe dinner, or more likely, after dinner since DirtyGurl won’t be able to say much in front of our thirteen-year-old chaperones, will give me some idea of what my options are.
five
DirtyGurl arrivesat the same time as Dakota and her mother.
I buzz them all up together. She saves me a huge amount of potential embarrassment by holding her hand out to Ty, who answers the door like this is his apartment, and saying, “Hi, I’m Brenna.”
I could have guessed her name wasn’t actually DirtyGurl, but it never occurred to me to ask.
I give the three ladies a quick tour of my apartment, not that there’s a lot to see in sixteen hundred square feet. But LouAnn’s eyes pop at some of the features, like the bookshelves built into the wall all the way up the staircase, the window-wall of the loft that shows the twenty-foot container of money trees and kentia palms that screen my bedroom, the bright orange accent wall behind the built-in dining nook, and the exposed brick wall that runs the length of my office and the kitchen. The apartment’s filled with early-evening golden light which makes everything look better. The light’s kind to the dark wood floors, which are clean, but I haven’t polished them since I moved in, and the stainless-steel appliances in the kitchen, which show fingerprints like nobody’s business. Brenna makes herself athome on the couch with the kids while I show LouAnn the loft. She looks reassured when I don’t have any half-assembled skin suits anywhere.
“You have a lovely home,” she offers as I lead her back downstairs.
“Thanks.”
I don’t really think about it. I had the apartment decorated after I bought the building with the money Uncle Max left me. I haven’t paid much attention to it since. I like plants, mostly because I never had a houseplant until I moved in here, so I’ve stuffed plants into every corner, added the computers and books, and then left it alone except for cleaning it twice a week. I can’t stand clutter; it triggers my OCD. So I haven’t bought any more furniture except the futon Ty sleeps on. There aren’t any knickknacks. I haven’t added any artwork because I don’t know anything about art. The walls in my office are covered by two huge, digital whiteboards which are currently dark since I didn’t want my guests to see what I’m working on. I have a couple of pictures tucked onto the bookshelves, mostly me and Uncle Max but also a few of my unit in the Navy, but otherwise there’s nothing personal anywhere, and as I look around, I see it for the first time. I hope she doesn’t think it’s weird.
She walks to the door and stands there, twisting her hands together. I suddenly wonder if she has her own dinner to go home to.
“Uh, are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay? I made plenty of food,” I offer.
She drops her hands to her sides and laughs a little. “Dakota would stab me in my sleep if I ruined her first real date. Thank you for offering, though. And for doing this. It’s very nice of you.”
