she’ll just come out here to bandage you up.”
She certainly will. However, I am not ready to be alone with her. I still do not have a plan. The last time I opened my mouth without a plan, bad things happened.
I cannot ask again, but Mr. Hooper seems to understand what I need.
“Oliver—who is not my real son—she already knows. I don’t think you have to hide it from her.”
“She does not know,” I argue. “Why do you think we have been friends this long?”
He squints at me. “I don’t think that’s your problem. The real problem might be the blond woman with the big…” He holds up his hands in front of his chest to simulate large breasts. “…who was coming and going from your condo just a few weeks ago.”
“That is not the problem. That is part of our deal. They always leave when I cannot hide it anymore. The problem is this lie I do not know how to get out of. Liv is mad at me about it. I do not blame her.”
“I don’t know what to tell you about the lie you’re caught in with your family, but I do know this. Women want to be the center of your attention. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”
He walks away, whistling.
I hate that stupid analogy. Now I want cake, and I do not have any.
I follow the sound of Liv calling my name, acutely aware I am not going to get any cake from her.
She is waiting in my bathroom with the first aid kid opened and her supplies laid out on the counter. No cake in sight. She gestures toward the sink. “Wash your hand first. I’ll do the rest.”
An even worse feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach. Maybe Mr. Hooper is right. I blurt, “Do you only live next door to me because you think I need someone to take care of me?”
“No.” Her expression is closed off. “I live next door to you because I need someone to kill spiders for me.”
“You could find another man to kill spiders for you,” I suggest while washing my hand. The pain feels good. It matches the pain in my head and in my chest.
Liv sighs then hands me a towel. “And you could find another woman to take care of you, so believe me, I know I’m not necessary in your life.”
Holy shit. Mr. Hooper is right about one thing at least. “They only want me for sex and to spend money on them. I can do those things. They do not want to take care of me.”
“I know,” she says through gritted teeth. “That’s why I hate them.”
She has never verbally admitted she hates the women I date. I guessed, but this is the first time she is saying the words.
“Liv,” I say as I sit on the toilet and hold my hand out to her. “I am an adult. I do not need to be taken care of.”
Her lips form a smirk, but she still does not look happy. “Oh, yeah? Then bandage your hand yourself.”
“I cannot. It is a two-handed job. I only have one good hand.”
She pulls her lips in between her teeth, and her shoulders shake. She is trying not to laugh.
That makes me feel a little happier. I love making Liv laugh.
She is not laughing anymore as she dabs ointment all over my scraped hand. “Ollie, I’ve been thinking…”
I already know what this is about. I have been thinking about it, too. It might be my last chance. If this does not work, then I will let her go. Exactly as Mom thinks I should.
“If you are concerned about me being any good at it, I can promise you, I am.”
Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Bandaging?”
“No. Sex,” I clarify. “I am very skilled at it. I have had much practice.”
“Please don’t say those things to me, Ollie,” she whispers as she wraps gauze around my hand. It sounds like she is going to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly. The last thing I want is to make Liv cry. “If you are worried about getting pregnant before Thanksgiving, I have done some research. Neither of us have been tested for fertility, but barring any issues with the pipes, there are some techniques that sound very promising.”
She laughs, but there are still tears in her voice. “You’ve been researching, huh?”
“I have.” If I can just get a little control back over this situation, I will feel