The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,4
ready to say goodbye, but I can’t figure out how to score an invite without sounding desperate.
“What’d you think of Mindy?” Sadie asks.
“Who?”
“The new girl. The one you just met upstairs not thirty minutes ago? She showed you to my desk?”
“Oh.” I glance sidelong at Sadie. “I think all your colleagues will be happy they have a functioning toilet thanks to the handsome stranger.”
Sadie elbows me. “Andrew.”
“Could we not talk about this in front of the kid?” I ask.
“We’re not talking about anything,” Sadie says.
I glance down at Bell, who hasn’t said a word since we left Sadie’s office. She walks between us, watching the sidewalk, completely oblivious to her surroundings. “You’re quiet, Bluebell.”
She looks up at me and smiles with her mouth closed—a telltale sign she’s nervous. I’m not exactly at ease, either, but she doesn’t need to know that. I ruffle her hair. “Looking forward to your sleepover?”
“Yes,” she says.
I wait for her to launch like the rocket she is into all the things they’re going to do tonight. One-word answers are a rarity with her.
“Ginger’s excited to see you,” Sadie offers.
Bell just takes my hand and says, “She’s a dog. She doesn’t know I’m coming.”
I exchange a glance with Sadie. “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I say under my breath.
“Relax. This is good for everyone. You need a break, and she needs to try something without you. You’re always bragging about how independent she is, but she isn’t when it comes to you.”
I look at my shoes. That’s because I want Bell to be independent—just not from me. That might be the last thing in the world I want. She’s still my baby. I’m not sure how I’ll sleep knowing she isn’t under my roof where I can protect her. “What about you?”
“It’s good for Nathan and me.” Sadie smiles. “Practice.”
My bad mood eases a little. In about four months, Bell will no longer be the baby of the family. As hard as it was, especially with Shana dragging her feet as a new mom, I miss baby Bell. She was as fussy then as she is now, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the start of the best years of my life.
We stop at the subway, and I pass Sadie Bell’s overnight bag as I squat. “I’ll pick you up Sunday. You can call me anytime if you need anything.”
“How?”
“With Aunt Sadie’s phone.”
“But . . .” She looks up at Sadie and back to me. “Maybe you can come too?”
“Dads are no fun at sleepovers,” Sadie says. “I’m not even sure we’ll let Uncle Nathan stay.”
Bell swallows, and her eyes water. “I don’t want to go.”
“Aw, come on, kid,” I say, smiling, even though her words tear my heart in half like it’s straight up rice paper. “You’ve been excited about this all week.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You’re a big girl, Bell,” I say. “No tears. What do you always tell me about crying?”
She inhales a shaky breath but after a moment, her shoulders drop a few inches. “It’s for little boys.”
“There we go.” I nod. “Now, go with Aunt Sadie, and give Ginger a kiss for me.”
Her cheeks, pink from holding in tears, round with a small smile. “What about Uncle Nathan?”
“When have you ever seen me kiss Uncle Nathan?”
She giggles, and I peck her forehead before standing again. I want her to be tough. To speak her mind and stand up for herself. I also want her to stop growing up so fast. It’s a war in me that never seems to end—raise a smart, mature, confident girl while keeping her my baby. Sometimes I worry I’m doing a shit job of all of it.
“What’re you going to do now?” Sadie asks.
Normally at this time, I’d be prepping dinner. Maybe grocery shopping with Bell or listening to her day as I chop vegetables. It’s too early for a drink, or I’d go to Timber Tavern, my local watering hole. “Head home, I guess.”
She holds open her arms. “But you’re in New York City. Why not do something fun? Live a little.”
“I’ve hated this place since we were kids. It’s full of superficial snobs, present company included.”
She smirks, used to my teasing. “I’m just saying. You’re a bachelor for forty-eight hours. Use them wisely.”
“I’m also a thirty-five-year-old dad,” I say, deadpan. “I’m hardly about to go on a bender.”
“Then I suggest you do the thirties version of a bender and binge on good food. There’s a place around the corner