I burst out laughing. Only Ginelle could make anything involving Thanksgiving dirty.
“Seriously, Mia, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when he leaves. I’ll have to stock up on triple A batteries for sure. He’s ruining me for sex.” She sighed. “Now I know why you spent a month fucking his brother. The Niko men…Jesus Christ, my hoo-hah will never be the same.” She let out a long groan. “He looks at me with those black eyes, and I swear my legs fall open like Moses parting the Red Sea.”
I chuckled. “You are so twisted.”
“And sated. Like all the time. Just when I think he’s done, ready to put the beast between his thighs away, he brings that fat dick back out, and I’m weeping all over for it again.”
“Stop it! Spare the details.”
“You mean like how he can use his hand to—”
“La-la-laaaaa, la la laaaa, la la laaa la laaa.” I kept singing "Jingle Bells" until her words stopped.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Not even a little.” I thought back to my Wes taking me up against the tree the other day, and the space between my thighs tingled.
She snorted. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve got the movie-making surfer all up in that shiznet. How is Wes. by the way?” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Nightmares getting better?”
“They are. He hasn’t had one in over a week. That’s huge progress. Now he’s got his head in this idea that he’s going to buy land from Max and build a house next to their ranch. Have a home away from home type of thing.”
“Cool! Cowboy fun. Yee-frickin’-haw.”
Shifting around, I burrowed deeper into the blankets. “It would be cool to be able to see Max and Cyndi and watch my niece and nephew grow up that’s for sure.”
“Hey, you’ve always wanted to belong somewhere. Now you do.”
“But what about Pops?”
“What about him? He has to figure out his own path. You can’t make the decisions for him. You’re a grown woman about to marry the man of your dreams. Maddy, too. The both of you are set. He has to figure out what he wants in life and work toward it. Let’s just hope to hell he’s learned a lesson from this trip down Coma Lane and uses it to stay sober. For himself. Not just for you and Maddy. Though I have my own opinions about that.”
I pouted. “I know. I know. He says he’s going to do right by us. Be a better man.”
She huffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, I’ll hope for the best, and I think that’s how you need to approach it too.”
“You know, you’re right. He’s a grown man who needs to take care of himself for once. I can’t plan my life around him or anyone else from now on.”
“Atta girl. That’s what I want to hear from you. Now what I want to hear for me is a big, buff tatted Samoan cry out to some Hawaiian gods while I drain his cock so I can get a little shut eye. Damn, I keep telling the hulk that I need some beauty sleep. Does he listen? No.”
I snickered. “Okay skank-a-lot-a-mas, go get your freak on. Say Aloha to Tao for me.”
“Will do. Love you. Catch you later, sleaze-bag.”
“Love you more, Slutty Slutterton.”
Chapter Ten
Pops was sitting up in his bed when I arrived first thing in the morning. Wes, God love him, stayed back at the hotel to work on editing more of the film we did for some of the December shows for Dr. Hoffman’s Christmas special. I was ahead of the game and extremely thankful now that I had my dad to deal with.
“Hey, b-baby girl, come s-sit.” He patted the side of his bed with his fingers, his voice and movement still hit and miss. According to the doctor, it would be a long while before movement and his speech were perfect.
I went over and sat down, grabbed his hand, and lifted it to my lips for a kiss. His skin was paper-thin but still a brighter color than it had been when he was filled to the gills will booze. “Spoke with the doctor this morning. They said you know you’ve been out for the past eleven months.”
Pops nodded solemnly. I couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling, knowing that almost a year of his life passed him by.
“What happened, Pops? How did it get so bad with Blaine?”
He closed his eyes and squeezed my hand. “Mia, I’ve been a v-very s-selfish man.”
Sure, I could agree with him, but it still didn’t make sense in the context of the question I’d asked. “How so?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t care a-anymore. About m-my life, about m-my d-debt, about a-anything but the emptiness.” Each word was said with a strange foreboding, as though he was preparing me for a harsh reality.