Chapter 41
SLOANE
The goat playground is almost finished, but the goats have decided they can't wait for the rest of it.
My father, it turns out, did not buy them some apparatus. He bought them an entire municipal playground — three platforms at different heights, a ramp, a stepped tower, a wooden bridge, and a large treat ball the instruction sheet calls ENRICHMENT.
The two delivery men have been trying to bolt the last pieces together for half an hour, and the goats won't let them.
Every time they attach two parts and step back to find the next bolt, a goat claims the new structure.
Beyoncé abandoned her barrel the second the tallest platform went up and now refuses to come down.
Derek keeps trying to mount the stepped tower before it's bolted to the side bars, tipping the whole thing, landing in the dirt, and then getting up to do it again.
The three of us are helping. Luis holds two pieces of the tower together while one of the men bolts them, because nothing's stable until it's all joined up — which is the whole problem, since Derek keeps leaping onto the half-finished frame.
Maggie steers a goat away from the bridge and I'm guarding the treat ball that's supposed to hang from the frame so the goats butt it and the food drops out.
It's not fully attached yet, which is why I'm holding it above my head while six goats lose their minds around me.
Behind me Maggie is laughing so hard she's of very little use and I'm not much better myself.
"Your old man," Luis says, "is very generous." He gestures at the goats. "Look at them. They're so happy. Did you ever see an animal so happy?"
"They'd be even happier if they'd let us finish building it," I say, twisting away as Derek lines up another headbutt.
The men finally get the last bolt in and one of them gives me a nod. "You can put the ball down now, ma'am. We're done."
I quickly drop it, step back fast, and six goats charge the spot where I was standing. Derek gets there first, headbutts the ball, and a scatter of pellets hits the dirt to a chorus of frantic bleating.
I roll my shoulders and let out a sigh of relief.
It's been a long day. A useful one, too.
I spent most of it with Luis in the pig barn and then helping him set up the new pool, while Maggie did a full clear-out of the chicken coop on her own.
She's been avoiding being alone with me and I can't blame her.
She's making me nervous too, and I'm clumsy and awkward around her.
We had lunch on the porch with Luis, but apart from that we've only exchanged a handful of sentences since Dad left.
Luis dusts off his shirt and stretches with a groan. "Right. That's me. My back's done for the day and Carmen's making enchiladas."
"Go," Maggie says. "Thank you, Luis. For everything today."
"Mm." He surveys the goats swarming their new kingdom, then glances at the pigs in their fancy pool. "Best day I've had all year." He nods at me. "Sloane, good work."
"Thanks, Luis."
He gets in his truck and then it's just us.
Normally this is where I leave too but I don't. I tell myself it's because the scene is funny — Derek has fallen off the bridge a third time — but that's not really why. The real reason is that I want to be near her.
Maggie comes to stand next to me and we watch the goats and the pigs for a while. In the distance, Barbara and Gerald are chilling in the shallow water.
"They figured out right away it was for them," I say.
"Pigs are smart. Even smarter than dogs." Maggie's mouth twitches. "Smarter than some people I've dated."
I chuckle and nod at the pool. "You want to join them? Looks nice in there."
She turns and finally meets my gaze. "Careful," she says quietly. "Don't tempt me." She clears her throat and looks back at the goats. "So," she says. "How was your weekend? I, um. I saw some stuff online."
"It was a lot," I say. "The short version is I went to a club with Sita and our friends, and realized soon enough that they were only being nice to me because I'm interesting again.
Then my ex showed up with a date, and I threw a glass of champagne in his face.
" I pause. "Then someone filmed me yelling at one of my so-called friends for filming me, which is the part that's gone viral, which I appreciate the irony of. "
"You threw a drink at him," Maggie says.
I shrug. "He had it coming and I don't regret it. Anyway, I then took a cab to my parents' house and stayed there until my dad drove me back yesterday."
"He's lovely, your father," she says. "I really liked him. And not just because of the gifts."
"Not many people say that." I smile. "He doesn't warm to people easily. He's polite to everyone and close to almost no one. But he liked you too. I could tell."
She smiles, and then it fades, and we both go back to watching the goats. There's nothing left to hide behind. No Dad, no Luis, no delivery men.
I make myself say it before I lose the nerve. "So… About Friday."
Maggie doesn't look at me. "Yeah," she says. "I'm sorry about that. I crossed a line. You're here under a court order and I'm the one supervising you. I shouldn't have kissed you, it was inappropriate."
"It didn't feel inappropriate," I say.
Her eyes flick back to me.
"It didn't feel like a line being crossed," I go on. "It felt like — it felt amazing and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Not for one minute." I make myself hold her eyes even though my face is on fire. "I've been thinking about you since the moment I got into that helicopter."
Maggie stares at me and something is happening in her face — a war of some kind, fought behind her eyes. Her jaw tightens, her gaze drops to my mouth and stays there a beat before she drags it back up.
"You're not even —" She stops. Tries again. "Sloane, you're not —"
"Queer?" I say. "I don't have a word for whatever this is. I've never looked at a woman in my life and felt anything. But I look at you and I —" I shake my head, helpless. "I'm very, very attracted to you. That's the truth. I don't understand it but I'm not going to pretend it isn't there."
The silence stretches again and I think, do it, please, just kiss me again. I know she's thinking about it — her eyes go to my mouth one more time and her hand twitches at her side. Then she steps back instead, pushes a hand through her hair, and lets out a long breath.
"We should talk," she says. "Properly. Let's sit on the porch. I'll get us a drink."