The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,38

ugly. Since she didn’t freak out too much about spending a weekend with Sadie, I’m hoping she’s grown out of it, but I don’t exactly want to test that theory. “Speaking of parties,” I say. “Did you decide what kind of cake you want for your birthday?”

“Chocolate with chocolate frosting that has blue and pink swirls,” she says. “And mint ice cream.”

“Done.”

“Will you be home in time to tuck me in?”

Fuck. I tilt my head back, shaving under my jaw. I don’t look at Bell, because like an animal, she smells fear. “I don’t think so, babe. City’s far away. I’ll be home late.”

She doesn’t respond.

I put my razor down and splash water on my face. “I need you to be good for Flora tonight,” I say about Pico’s mom, Bell’s usual sitter. “Even Pico’s coming over to play.”

Silence. When it comes to Bell, that’s never a good sign unless she’s doing homework or playing where I can see her.

“You’re a big girl, Bell. You’ll have fun tonight.”

I go into my closet, drop my towel, and pull on underwear. All I hear is the loudening knock of Bell’s heels against the cabinets. “Hey,” I call out to her. “Pico said he doesn’t believe you know all the lyrics to Metallica. Want to practice until he gets here?”

“Which song?”

“‘Sandman.’”

Immediately, she launches into the first verse. Her voice echoes through the bathroom as I get into my suit. I button my dress shirt laughing. It’s always creepy when she sings it, especially the part that’s actually a child’s voice, but she loves the song. She’s never been a fearful kid. Never believed in monsters or boogey men. She’s like me, afraid of things that’re actually scary—like being abandoned.

I tuck in the shirt and do up my pants. Sadie probably worries I’ll show up looking like a slob since I don’t care about these things. But the suit I have from her wedding still fits perfectly, and I have a reason to look good tonight.

I open a drawer with ties. For owning only two suits, I have way too many ties, all less than subtle hints from Sadie to dress up more. I pick up a drab gray one, but a flash of red at the back of the drawer catches my eye. I wore that tie last year when I took Bell into the city for a show around Christmastime.

Sadie mentioned that avec was nominated. If I know Amelia, which I don’t, not really, she’ll be dressed to the nines. That must’ve been the reason for the expensive cherry-colored dress we picked up from the front desk of her apartment building. I select the red tie. It’ll be a message from me to her, a way of both teasing her and showing her I’ve been thinking of her.

I come out of the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror to get the knot right. “What d’you think, kid? Does Dad look good or what?”

“I don’t want you to go,” Bell says immediately.

I glance at her. “I know. I don’t really want to go either, but—”

“Then don’t,” she says. “Stay home. We can watch a show about cars.”

I chuckle and think, not for the first time, manipulation must be genetic. In that way, she’s her mother’s daughter. “I can’t. Aunt Sadie’s expecting me.”

Bell crosses her arms, pouting. “Parties are stupid.”

“Come on. We don’t use that word.”

“Stupid,” she repeats.

“Bell,” I warn. “You want to go to your room until I leave?”

“No. I want to stay with you.” She sticks her bottom lip out farther. “If I’m good, will you not go?”

“No.” I tug on my sleeve and head into the bedroom to get cufflinks from a drawer. Sensing Bell’s glare, even through the wall separating the rooms, I ask, “Will you help me? I can’t do this alone.”

With a huge sigh, she pads over. I lift her up on the edge of the bed and hold the sleeve together for her. “Just put the small part of the cufflink through the holes so it holds the cuff together.”

She furrows her eyebrows as she works. “Can I come with you?”

I press my lips together, half pissed that she won’t drop it and half devastated. That Bell thinks I’m abandoning her, even for tonight, makes my chest physically hurt. I’m starting to wonder if others have been right about us. If she’s too attached. Problem is, she learned it from me. Part of me would rather stay here, dish out ice cream, and play Mario