room somewhere? Go for it. I don’t recommend it since the only one in the area is the Sawdust Motor Inn, and it has bodies in the guest rooms, but I will let you make your decision so I’m not forcing you into anything. See? That’s how much I love you.”
It’s more like the universe is forcing this to happen. “He sent a dick pic!” I shout over to her as she starts rummaging through Tango’s drawers.
“Actually, he sent it to me,” she argues. Changing the subject, she continues, “Also, you should call your dad to have him get you a job at the firm. We can work together again. It’ll be like old times when we were lifeguarding at the Hilton that summer.”
I remember that summer well. Cali kept sneaking off with hot guys, and I spent the summer covered in 100 SPF sunscreen, trying to avoid sunburns on every inch of my fair skin.
“Yay,” I sing sarcastically. I love running back to Daddy. Nothing makes me happier. This just keeps getting worse and worse. As soon as he finds out what’s going on, he’ll tell me to move home. That’s not happening. I’m definitely better off staying at Tango and Cali’s sex nest.
The sun is going down, marking a near end to this long, miserable day. Cali got back a few minutes ago, just as I figured she’d be a while, trying to stay with Tango as long as possible—not that I blame her. I don’t think she’s spent a night away from him in years. For someone who’s so independent and strong, she seems to need Tango like he’s her oxygen or something. Weirdly enough, I’m not sure I know the feeling or can really understand it. I loved Landon, but I never had an ache in my chest when he left for a night, or butterflies in my stomach like I hear people talking about. It was an easy relationship, I guess. Easy to fake on his part.
“Auntie Sasha, are you staying for dinner?” Tyler comes skipping into the kitchen.
“Of course, silly. I just made dinner.” I lift Tyler up and place her down on the counter next to me.
“What are you cooking?” she asks, leaning close and placing her face over the steaming pot.
“I’m making you special macaroni and cheese,” I say, giving her a little squeeze.
“You’re going to be a good mommy someday,” Tyler tells me.
The thought makes my chest ache. This was part of the reason I stuck things out with Landon for so long. Being twenty-seven now, I can almost hear my biological clock ticking. I know women have babies late into their forties, but I had this all planned out since I was ten. Married by twenty-five, a baby by thirty, and of course the whole living happily ever after bit. If I had broken up with Landon, I knew I would have to start all over, and I’d end up even further away from my life goals. So I stuck it out, and now I realize I wasted more time by doing that.
“Maybe someday,” I tell Tyler. Though, it’s feeling like a never right now.
“Uncle Jags could have a baby with you,” she says, grinning a Cali-like grin.
“Tyler!” I scold.
“What?” she giggles. “He looks at you with hearts in his eyes.” The thought of a person actually having literal hearts in their eyes makes me laugh. Life through a five-year-old’s eyes. If only we could all think that way.
“Jags and I are two very different people, sweetie,” I say, trying to close the inappropriate conversation with a child.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Mommy always says I’m wise beyond all of my years, so you should listen to me.” And that’s Tango talking through that little mouth.
The timer on the microwave goes off, and I grab the oven mitts to pull the garlic bread out of the oven. “Holy crap, it smells good in here,” Cali says, walking in with a towel around her head. She smelled like ammonia when she got home from the hospital, and that smell makes both her and I sick to our stomachs.
“You should watch your mouth,” I tell her.
“I’m so smart, Auntie, I know what words are bad, and I just don’t say them,” Tyler says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh yeah?” I reply, raising a brow at Cali.
Cali’s smile oozes cockiness. “I’m winning this whole parenting game.”
“Clearly.”
Just as I shut the oven off, a crash against the front door makes the oven mitt fly