Chapter 10
TEN
DARCY
W hen Lou told me she wanted to go see the fish at the pet store, it struck me as a piece-of-cake activity. But twenty minutes ago, she started hinting that we should get a pet. And then ten minutes ago, the hinting became a lot more intense. And then five minutes ago, she started begging.
“Didn’t you let the fish at your daycare go free?” I ask. “Are you wanting to free them?”
“I only let them go free because they spent the weekends and all night alone,” she says. “The teacher only took care of them when she was at school and that’s not nice.”
Oh. Damn, I thought that would work in my favor.
“Shouldn’t we ask your dad?”
“Well, a long time ago, he said I could probably have one. That means yes. And it’s just a little fish anyway.” She says this with just enough confidence that I believe her.
“So you really want a fish?”
“Well, no. What I really want is a bunny, but I think the fish will be a good pet to start with to learn the responsibility of having a pet,” she says.
She’s really thought this through. Why does it feel like I’m talking to a mature, level-headed adult? Is she related to Sheldon Cooper? Okay, okay, let me think.
I stare at the fish for a few moments, weighing my options. He did give me money for entertainment. He didn’t expressly say not to get her a fish. I don’t think she’s lying to me about his saying she could probably have one. If it was a long time ago, maybe he was waiting for her to be older. Man, this is a lot of thinking.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I say. “But if you’re dad is upset and doesn’t want you to have it, you have to promise you won’t be upset. And I’ll take the fish to my house.” A fish doesn’t seem like the worst thing for my place. And it’s just a fucking fish so Lyric won’t mind.
“You have a deal,” she says, reaching her hand out to shake mine.
I shake her little hand and then say, “Now, which one should we get?”
We got two fish. Lou made the excellent point that they need companionship and should not be forced to live in solitude. So we got two of the big fat Goldfish with buggy bubble eyes. One is mostly orange with a white patch. The other is solid black. The bug eyes are a little weird but they’re far too cute to be considered creepy.
Together we cleared a space on one of her nightstands, put together the little fish tank, filled it with rocks, water, and plastic plants, and then—at the advice of the cashier at the pet store—placed the bag in the water so the fish could acclimate to the tank first.
She’s been checking on them every fifteen minutes just to make sure they’re okay. No one could ever accuse that girl of not caring.
“Okay, it’s time to put them in the tank!” I jump up from the couch and she follows suit, hopping up from the floor where she was coloring. She runs toward her room and I trail behind.
“Are you sure we waited long enough?” She asks.
I check my watch again, just to show her that I’m making absolute sure. “Yep, it’s definitely time.”
I gently lift the bag and open the end, then dip the lip of it down into the water so the fish can smoothly transition from bag to tank. The pair swim out and split off in opposite directions, instantly exploring the whole tank.
“Have you thought of what you’ll name them?”
“Hmm,” she says thoughtfully,placing her thumb and index finger on either side of her chin. “I think the orange-and-white one should be called Tater Tot.”
“Oh, okay. That’s fun.”
“And the black one will be Prince Charming,” she says, her eyes following the royal fish.
“I think those are great names,” I say reassuringly. “Very creative.”
Man, I hope this was a good idea. She’s very convincing. But I can also see how this could be looked at as a huge overstep. Maybe I didn’t think this through. Great, I might have just gotten myself fired after one week.
I look down at Lou, who hasn’t taken her eyes off Tater Tot and Prince Charming since they went into the tank. Her smile is ridiculously big. And that smile might just be the thing that makes getting shitcanned worth it.
In an effort to make up for this possible mistake, I turn my attention to tidying up the house and leave Lou to stare at her fish. In the kitchen, I clean the dishes from breakfast and put them away. I make sure the living room is picked up and spot a pair of Lou’s socks tucked into the couch cushion. I’ve noticed she has a habit of pulling them off if she puts a blanket over her when we’re reading.
I take them into the laundry room and throw them into the basket she previously told me was for dirty clothes. From the corner of my eye, I notice some clothes hanging out of the open dryer door. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching in and pulling out what is obviously one of Ridge’s black T-shirts. The fabric is soft and worn, but the color isn’t faded. Without thinking, I press the garment against my face and inhale. The clean scent of his detergent hits my senses, and I realize it’s not the same smell as the blanket on the couch. The throw is this plus… something else. I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s some sort of fabric freshener or room scent.
Absentmindedly, I think about the warm, masculine notes on the blanket I always smell and begin folding the rest of the clothes in the dryer. It looks to be a load of nothing but his shirts. I don’t know if I’m disappointed or relieved that his underwear are not in here, because on the one hand, they’re just underwear, but on the other, I bet myself he wears those short boxer brief numbers that show off the thighs and ass and bulge so nicely. Now, it must remain a mystery.
I contemplate for a moment if I should just leave them on top of the dryer or put them in his room, but my curiosity gets the better of me in the end, and I tiptoe down the hall with a stack of his shirts, telling myself I’ll just set them on his bed.
When I open the door, I instantly realize something that’s been nagging at me. The scent on that blanket in the living room is definitely Ridge. I hadn’t noticed when he gave me the tour, and I haven’t ventured in here since, but that delicious aroma is one hundred percent grade A Ridge. Great. I’ve been lusting over that man’s smell. My boss, of all people. It might not be so bad if he was flawed in some way. So far, I haven’t found one.
I set the stack of folded shirts near the bottom corner of his bed and contemplate putting them into the drawer he pointed out before, then immediately abandon the idea. His room is nice, clean. Not overly masculine but there are definitely no touches of femininity either. Did Lou’s mom live here with him? If so, he seems to have erased all remnants of her. Well, aside from the photo on Lou’s other nightstand.
Vanessa was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, tanned skin, and not very many ounces of body fat. Also known as the exact opposite of me. I’ve got pale skin and freckles, unremarkably dark hair, and plain eyes. Hers were this icy light blue, while mine resemble cloudy skies. I certainly havemore body fat, too. She has that sophisticated petite frame, like a ballerina, whereas I have tits so big that it’s hard to find cute bras sometimes.
Ugh. What did that one guy say? Comparison is the thief of happiness? Or something like that. Truer words have never been spoken.
“What are you doing?” Lou’s voice calls from behind me.
“Oh,” I yelp. “You scared me.”
“Are you looking for something?” she asks.
“I folded these,” I say, placing my hand on top of the pile of shirts. How long have I been staring off into space in here? How long has she been watching me from the doorway? Yikes.
“Oh,” she says. “Can I have a snack?”
“Of course.” I run my hands down my sides and step toward the door. The door clicks behind me quietly as I close it and shift the focus to food.It seems like as good a distraction as any. “What were you thinking?”
“Apple slices with peanut butter?” she asks, a hopeful inflection in her voice.
“Ooh, that sounds good. I think I’ll have some, too.”
I grab the cutting board and a knife from the block on the counter. Lou grabs two apples and washes them in the sink, then hands them to me. She goes to the pantry to retrieve the jar of peanut butter and stands next to me, watching me carefully cut each of the apples into wedges.
“I like how you cut the apples better than dad,” she says.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, he cuts them too thick, in my opinion,” she says.
I make a note to mention it to him in secret. I don’t want to focus on the fact that mine are better, just that she prefers them thinner. Speaking of the devil, as this thought crosses me, I’m surprised when Ridge walks in. It’s earlier than usual.
“Oh, hi,” I say, glancing at the clock and then back to him. Wow, two hours early. “I didn’t know you were getting off early today.”
“Lou goes with her grandparents today. I always get off early so I can come back and pack her bag and see her before they get here,” he says.
“That’s nice.” I remember Ridge telling me that she goes to her grandparents every other weekend to visit, and I even remember him saying this first weekend after I got hired, she would be going there. I just don’t remember this part about coming home early.
“Sorry, I thought I mentioned it,” he says. “What are you fixing there?”
“Apple slices with peanut butter,” I say. “Actually, this one was for me, but if you’d like it, I can go ahead and leave and get out of your hair.”
“No, please, stay and finish your snack. If you want, you can even stay long enough to meet Alma and George.” He smiles that easy smile of his.
“Oh, I don’t want to impose.”
“No imposition at all,” he says. “Alma would love to meet you. She asks me about you at least once a day.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, I think she just has a genuine interest in someone spending time with Lou,” he says.
“Hopefully you tell her good things?” I return the comment with a smile and vaguely wonder if this seems flirtatious.
“Well, there certainly hasn’t been anything bad to tell her.” He leans way across the counter, invading my space even with an object between us.
My cheeks heat when I suddenly remember the fish in Lou’s room that she thankfully hasn’t mentioned yet.
“Hold that thought,” I say reluctantly.
Time to come clean.