Chapter 16
“Okay, princess. It’s breakfast time,” I tell Izzy as I slide a fluffy pancake onto her plate and haphazardly cut it into bite-sized pieces.
“I pack up?” she asks me, waving at the sheets of colored paper and scattered markers in front of her.
I shrug. “Or you could just move to a different seat if you want to keep coloring after breakfast?”
“Okay.” She dutifully slides off her chair and pads down to the other end of the table, her little legs swinging in anticipation as she waits for her pancakes.
“Okay, here you go,” I announce, setting her plate, fork and a cup of orange juice in front of her, then striding back to the counter to retrieve my plate and the syrup.
“I do syrup!” Izzy demands.
I grin at her. She’s been doing a lot of grip therapy lately and has become pretty obsessed with squeezy bottles. “Okay. But remember what Edie said—start off gentle and press harder if you need to.”
She nods and I help her turn the bottle over and make sure the nozzle is unfastened. Then I watch with a proud smile as she carefully squeezes syrup over her pancakes, her brow furrowed with concentration.
“I do yours?” she asks eagerly once she’s finished drowning her pancakes.
“Sure. I don’t want as much, though. Do you think you can stop when I say?”
She gives a determined nod and starts squeezing syrup onto my pancakes.
Honestly, I don’t really have a particular syrup preference but we try to incorporate as much OT into everyday life as we can and I figure this is a good opportunity to work on her relaxes.
“Stop,” I say once there’s a decent coating of syrup on my pancakes.
I try not to laugh when, instead of releasing her grip slowly, Izzy lets go completely and the syrup bottle plonks down onto my plate.
Well, I guess that’s something to work on…
After breakfast, Izzy helps me wash up—or, more accurately, she squeezes copious amounts of dishwashing liquid into the sink and “washes” a few bowls that weren’t actually dirty while I stack the dishwasher and wipe down the counter. Then she gets back to the coloring she was doing earlier.
We’ve got Piper’s birthday lunch today but we won’t need to leave for a few more hours. So, with Izzy happily occupied for the time being, I let my thoughts wander to last night’s phone call with Damon.
I’m sure Damon will want to pretend the whole incident never happened, but luckily for me the fact that it was a call and not a text exchange means it’s locked in the memory bank now. Word for word, breath for breath, moan for wild moan.
I don’t let myself replay it—not with Izzy in the same room—but I flick through enough snippets that I can’t resist sending Damon a wake-up text.
Me
Good morning dirty boy
I have a question for you. Do you always moan like a dirty whore while you’re touching yourself or was that a special show just for me?
I’m not expecting him to reply considering how late things wrapped up last night, and especially because 0f how stubborn he’s been about this whole thing. So I’m floored when my phone chimes with a text a few minutes later.
Damon Forrester
I wasn’t moaning like a whore
A slow grin spreads across my face and I don’t hesitate to tap out a reply.
Me
Yes you were. A cheap, nasty one who doesn’t do it for the money
Damon Forrester
Fucking hell. Why the fuck did I text back?
Me
Because I woke you up and being called a whore makes you horny as fuck and now you’re baiting me into saying more
Damon Forrester
That was a rhetorical question I’m not baiting you. And I’m not “horny as fuck”
Me
He says as he hooks more bait. Don’t worry dirty boy, I’m more than happy to nibble
I know you’re horny as fuck because you’re ALWAYS horny as fuck.
It’s actually pretty impressive for a guy of your advanced years, but then again maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on abstaining from pleasure you wouldn’t be so wound up all the time and living on the kind of hair-trigger that results in you rubbing one out at your place of work
Damon Forrester
Fucking hell, I don’t abstain from pleasure
Me
Of course you do. I bet if I called you right now all I’d hear is you panting like a bitch in heat because you’re STILL fighting the urge to touch yourself even though you’re hard as stone and so desperate for release you can barely see straight
Like last night…remember? You tried so hard to fight it but then you finally gave in and that’s when you started moaning like a cheap, back-alley whore
And you were fucking LOUD too
Now I’m thinking about it I think it must have been a special show just for me. I would have heard you out in the bar if you’d been moaning that loud in the bathroom
Damon Forrester
FFS. I wasn’t moaning that loud
Me
Ah, so you admit you were moaning?
Damon Forrester
I hate you. You’re such a fucking asshole
I let out a little snort, shaking my head wryly at what has pretty much become Damon’s mantra.
Me
Why don’t you ask your brother if he heard you? I bet he did
Do you think he’ll guess you took his advice to let me make you come?
Damon Forrester
His “advice” was completely facetious
In case you don’t know “facetious” means “flippant” or “tongue-in-cheek”—in other words, he wasn’t remotely serious.
I can’t help letting out a bark of laughter at that, which prompts Izzy to look up from her coloring. “What’s funny, Jazz?”
I grin at her as I tap back a reply that will no doubt shock the hell out of Damon. “Just something a friend of mine said.”
“I know friends,” she says brightly. “I know Star. And Gia. And Jace. And Mischa.”
“That’s right.” It’s interesting she didn’t name Cody even though she’s met him several times. “This is a new friend. His name is Damon,” I tell her. “He works at the bar.”
“Like Gia?”
“Yep. He’s friends with Gia too.”
“And Shane and Bree?”
“Yep.”
I mean, they have a good working relationship, at least, but that distinction is probably a little too complicated for a five-year-old to grasp.
“I like Damon,” she pronounces.
“You haven’t even met him yet.”
She shrugs. “You said Damon is funny.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head wryly at her logic. I’m not going to clarify that I was laughing at his gross underestimation of my intelligence. Instead, I tell her, “I’m sure he’ll like you too. You can meet him soon.”
Her eyes light up. “I meet Damon today?”
I let out a little snort at her enthusiasm. It must be killing her to know I have a friend she hasn’t met yet. “We have Piper’s birthday today, princess.”
She pouts with obvious disappointment, but before it turns into a full-on meltdown I rush to throw in a few silver linings that I know will cheer her up.
“It’s a fancy party—you can choose a pretty dress to wear.
And…Deacon’s going to be there,” I add, using the same tone and expression I would for an outing to see Santa or Bluey or one of her favorite Disney characters.
Damon is immediately forgotten as she starts bubbling over with excitement at the prospect of spending the day with her beloved kindergarten teacher.
“Why don’t you draw a picture for Deacon?” I suggest. “Then you can choose your dress.”
“Okay, Jazz,” she says with a bright smile, selecting a fresh sheet of bright yellow paper and starting to draw.
I decide to set a half-hour limit on her coloring just in case we need extra time to get ready—I have a feeling she’ll want to change her dress at least four times in an effort to impress Deacon.
Striding out of the kitchen and over to the fireplace, I grab the analogue clock that sits on the mantle and take it over to the dining table.
Setting it in front of Izzy, I point to the minute hand.
“When this gets up here to number twelve it’s time to pack up your coloring and get ready for the party, okay? ”
“Okay.”
I return to the kitchen and pick up my phone, seeing Damon’s eyes have finally retracted into their sockets and he’s managed a reply.
Me
Thanks for the clarification, I don’t think that came up on my 770 verbal. But it was nearly eight years ago so I’ve probably forgotten a few things
Damon Forrester
WTF?? You took the SATs when you were 13?? And you got a 770??
Me
I said NEARLY eight years ago. Like most people I took it spring of junior year. And I also got a 790
Oh and my college diploma is three years old just in case you were wondering about that. Took a bit longer than I planned because I was spending a lot of time helping out with my baby sister
Damon Forrester
I’m not sure I believe you…
I let out a breath of laughter, not at all surprised or offended by his doubt. I’m not exactly one to flaunt my academic achievements; the only reason I even stuck with college after Izzy was born is because I thought a business degree would be handy for running the bar.
Me
My diploma’s in my office, feel free to check it out anytime
You’ll need to make it past the bathroom first though. I’m not sure you’ll manage it without being waylaid. We both know how much you love wiling away your work hours in there
Damon Forrester
Fucking hell it was one time
Me
I think most people would say one time tugging it at work is one time too many
Fortunately your boss isn’t one of those people
Damon Forrester
No, my boss just spies on people over bathroom stalls, and listens to them jerk off, and wakes them up to call them a whore
Me
He sounds like fun
Damon Forrester
He’s a fucking nightmare
I chuckle at that, shaking my head.
Me
And yet you’re still texting
I bet you’re still hard as fuck too. Are you actually going to get off this time or suffer through another cold shower?
Damon Forrester
HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW THESE THINGS?
Me
I just told you, I’m very advanced
Damon Forrester
And THIS is how you decide to use your intelligence?
Me
You’re welcome
But unfortunately I can’t give you what you want this morning because my sister’s in the room so you’ll just have to use your imagination and pretend I’m listening
Damon Forrester
That’s not what I want
Me