“I don’t want to go to school!”
“You’re staying with Bethany. That’s all there is to it. Nana and Pop-Pop are not driving down today. You’re going to go to their house for a whole week when school is over anyway.”
Chloe faces the phone. “Will we have ice cream?”
“Of course we’ll have ice cream,” my mother assures her. “And we’ll go to the playground – and the pool. Oh, and our neighbor has a little boy your age, Adrian, that you can play with.”
Chloe groans. “I don’t want to play with a boy.”
“Since when?” my mother asks. “You’re best friends with one of the boys in your class.”
“He’s not my best friend.”
“You said he was your boyfriend.”
“He’s a friend who’s a boy. Like mommy’s boyfriend.”
I clear my throat, hoping my mother missed the last part of what Chloe just said, the little rat. “All right, it’s almost time for Bethany to get here, Chloe. Eat your cereal. Mom, I have to finish getting dressed.”
“Oh no, you don’t get to avoid this conversation. Who’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, mother. I’m not sixteen years old.”
My mother snorts. “I’m all too aware that you’re not sixteen. And that you’ve not had a boyfriend in about as many years.”
“Okay, this is not a conversation we’re going to have right now.”
“Who’s mommy’s boyfriend, Chloe?”
“No one, mother.”
“He’s a boy friend,” Chloe says, emphasizing each word. “He let me do his makeup.”
“Oh, really? His makeup, huh?”
“Is that the doorbell?” I ask. “Tell Nana you’ll talk to her later, Chloe.”
“Don’t worry – I’ll ask you about this friend later, Lily.”
“Goodbye, mom.”
I definitely don’t have a boyfriend. I may not even have a boy friend, either, the way the night ended with Killian. I didn’t want him here when Chloe woke up, sure, but I probably could have found a more eloquent way of putting it than the way I did. I need to read a dating book or something: Ten Easy Ways To Kick A Guy Out Of Your House After Sex So Your Kid Doesn’t See Him.
Having my mind go completely blank and then stumbling over my words trying to explain why I was asking Killian to leave was definitely not my finest hour. I blame the sex, though. How was I supposed to be able to rationally and clearly articulate anything after my mind had turned completely into mush? The orgasms made me stupid.
On my way to work, I glance at my phone. Should I text him? Oh God, are there rules for texting after sex? What’s that wait-three-days rule? Is that for after sex or after a date? We haven’t even had a date, so maybe the dating rules don’t apply.
Paralyzed by indecision, I just don’t text him at all.
Opal hands me an espresso the minute I reach the counter. “You look like you need this.” She rings up a customer and busies herself making his coffee.
“Mmm. Yes, please. Do you have anything stronger?” I’m not sure if I need several shots of espresso or several shots of alcohol.
“I think there might be a bottle of something behind one of the containers in the refrigerator.”
“You’re keeping booze in my fridge, Opal?”
“Only for emergencies. Although six-thirty in the morning seems a little early. Besides, I’d think you’d be in a better mood.” She hands the man his latte. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Why would you think that?” I hiss.
Opal shrugs and blinks her eyes innocently. “I might have heard that Killian was bringing some soup to your house last night.”
“You heard.”
“It’s a small town. Rumors fly.”
“Rumors? Are you kidding?” I whisper. “How did anyone find out? Oh my God. Killian talked to you? Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what? That you two…”
“Yes, that we, you know.”
“Girl, you’d make a terrible spy. You’d spill your guts in thirty seconds.”
“Good thing I’m not trying to be a spy.”
Opal chortles. “That’s not what I heard from Chloe.”
“I need to talk to her about telling stories to her classmates.”
“Killian didn’t tell me anything, so relax. CJ told me.”
“CJ from the restaurant? How does she know?” Panic bubbles up in my chest. West Bend is really so damn small that everyone knows everything about everyone, isn’t it?
“She knows he bought soup. He went there for it. She’d already closed up, but she was there cleaning and Killian paid her extra to open up and get him some soup to go.”
“And she told you?”
Opal cocks her head to the side. “Child, I’ve lived in this town all of my seventy-three years. There isn’t anything that goes on here I don’t find out about.”