The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,40

water glass. “Everybody needs intimacy. I don’t fault you that. I just hate to see you so closed off. I think it hurts the girls, and I think it hurts you too.”

“I’m not closed off,” I say, passing her the drink. “I’m doing my best.”

“Perhaps.” She takes a sip. “Listen—don’t feel guilty about leaving Bell. It’s good for you to live your own life. And I’ve sat for her enough times to know how to bring out her excitement.”

“She’s definitely excitable,” I agree.

She laughs. “That she is. Go have fun tonight. And if you want to spend the night out, I have no problem sleeping here.”

“Oh, that won’t be—”

“I’ll just plan on spending the night unless I hear otherwise,” she says.

“No-o-o,” Bell screeches from behind me. I turn just in time to see her burst into tears. Pico mouths “sorry” at me, already looking shell-shocked.

“You can’t do this to me!” Bell launches herself forward, gripping my leg with surprising strength. I pick up her flailing body, and she throws her arms around my neck. “No, no, no. Please don’t go. I can’t fall asleep without you here.”

“Bell, calm down,” I say firmly, but it comes out softer than I mean. I shoot Flora a look.

She nods encouragingly at me.

Bell sobs into my neck. I rub her back. “You’re a big girl, Bell—”

“No I’m not.”

“I need you to do this for me. Please. I promise I’ll be back before you wake up.”

She screams, shredding my eardrums as she fists her hands into my suit jacket. “No, no, no.”

Jesus Christ. I’m no stranger to Bell’s fits, but normally I’m able to calm her down pretty quickly. I suddenly realize that’s because I just give her what she wants.

Flora comes around the counter. “Bell, sweetheart, we’re going to have fun tonight, you, me, and Pico. We’ll do all the girly things Daddy doesn’t do.”

“He does them all,” she says, kneeing me in the gut.

I double over with an ooph, nearly dropping her. Frustrated, I shout “goddamn it” as pain radiates from my stomach.

“Oh, dear.” Flora puts her hand on Bell’s back. “I was going to make you an omelet for dinner. I know how you like those. But omelets are for big girls, not babies.”

“I’m not a baby,” Bell says.

“You’re acting like one,” I tell her. “I thought you said crying was for boys.”

She shudders in my arms. It’s taking everything in me not to give in. I hate this. I don’t even want to go. Sure, I’d love to spend more time with Amelia, but I don’t know if I’ll get to. Maybe she isn’t going. Maybe she has a date. It’s not worth traumatizing my daughter.

“Don’t you dare,” Flora says. “I see defeat in your eyes.”

I take a deep breath, hug Bell closer, and try to put her down. She wriggles to keep her arms around my neck, but I pry her off.

“I hate you both,” she yells at me. “You went away last weekend and now you’re leaving me again. I hate you.” She tears off through the kitchen toward her room.

I flinch when she slams the door. She’s right. I didn’t spend last weekend with her because she was with Sadie. That’s three out of seven nights I’ll be away from her. At least my dad came home every night, even if he was drunk or pissed off.

I scrub my hands over my face. “I can’t do it.”

“You should go now,” Flora says. “Before she comes back out.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can. Andrew, look at me.”

I lower my hands, balling them into fists.

Flora’s face is earnest. “You’re the best dad I know. You’re nothing like your father, but you’re everything like your grandfather.”

I stare at her, my chest tight. Flora’s husband and my grandfather used to let Pico and me hang at the garage after school, and without us realizing it, they taught us how to be men.

“You remind me so much of him,” she says.

I swallow, feeling not unlike a small child. “He’s my role model.”

“I know, and it shows.” She leans in. “He was a lover, Andrew. He’d hate to know you were throwing your happiness away by not giving someone a chance to love you. Worse, that you’re not setting a good example for your daughter.”

“How is that setting a bad example? Everything I do is for her.”

“Do you want her to live her life for someone else? Even you?” she asks. “Or do you want her to stand on her own, make decisions for herself and