Page 31 of Adrift

I bite my cheek, fighting a smile.

Me: I’m pretty sure I asked you how you were this morning. I’m also pretty sure I said hello.

Rani: I believe you said, “Hey. He’s been fed and changed,” before you handed Arman to me and ran out like you had ants in your pants.

If she only knew what I had in my pants . . ..

Not able to tell her the reason I ran out of the damn house was to avoid making more of an ass of myself when I saw her tight-as-fuck T-shirt and the ridiculous amount of skin underneath, I decide to concede.

Me: Fine. You’re right. I was rude. How are you? And who the fuck is that scrawny-ass Ronald McDonald-looking dude with you?

Okay, so that’s my version of a concession.

I tap my foot incessantly under the table while I wait for her to respond.

Rani: First, you’re STILL being rude. Second, he’s not as scrawny as he might look on that tiny camera. His name is Liam. Arman and I made friends with him last week at the park. I hope you don’t mind that he came to pick us up. He’s a nice guy. We’re on a walk with him now, which is why it’s taking me time to respond.

How do I respond to that? Do I mind that he came to pick her and my son up?

I don’t like that she’s on a damn walk with someone I don’t know. More importantly, I don’t like that she’s been texting with him. I’m not ready to answer why, so I refrain from letting my brain even go there.

From the quick glimpse I got of him, he certainly seems non-threatening–tall, lanky, and goofy looking. So why is he showing up to my house, taking a walk with my son and my sister-in-law, anything but non-threatening?

Swiveling around in my chair, thinking about how to respond, I settle on not being an asshole. I’ve done enough of that lately.

It’s not fair for me to hold Rani hostage in my house on account of her taking care of my son. She’s a smart and capable woman, who has nothing but the best intentions for my son. Asking her to not spend time with a guy she feels comfortable having my son around would make her think I don’t trust her, and that’s not my intent.

Maybe meeting him in person would ease my concerns?

Me: Yeah, okay. But I’d like to meet him.

Rani: How about Friday evening?

Me: What’s happening Friday?

While I see that my text has been read, I don’t get a response from her the rest of the day, and I know I’m not going to like the answer, whenever I get it.

* * *

I watch as Arman grabs hold of the vertical metal bars on the balcony and pulls himself up. He turns around to give me a toothless grin before trying to stick his face through the metal bars. Thankfully they are narrow enough that he won’t get his face through, but I watch him anyway.

“Bo!” Arman points to a red ball on the grass below, bouncing on his feet.

“Ball. That’s right.” I smile.

The door to the balcony opens and Rani steps out, her long, shiny curls flying delicately behind her. “I made spaghetti and a salad if you’re hungry. It’s probably not as good as yours, but I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Thanks.”

We both stand together in silence for a minute, watching Arman and feeling the light evening breeze against our skin.

“How was your walk with Ronald?” I glance at her before crossing my arms on my chest.

She glares at me. “His name is Liam, and it was good. He’s a nice guy.”

I nod, my jaw clenching. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Rani bristles at my tone and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why I even said it the way I did. “Okay, then. Duly noted. You don’t like information or repetitive small talk.”

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