Chapter 30
ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE HORNY MIND
Heath
I’m fooling around with Cricket in her apartment Saturday morning when we hear footsteps overhead.
“Shit.” I leap off the bed and lunge for my pants. “Lost track of time.”
Cricket bounces up to sitting, her hair all over the place, breasts sporting new whisker burn courtesy of me, her pussy fully on display as she crosses her legs the way Lav calls crisscross applesauce. “Are you going to the main house today?”
I pause and look back at her, and that’s when I realize what’s going on.
She’s meeting Michael Morgan Stone today.
I growl. “The only place you’re getting orgasms is right here.” I point to my dick.
She grins wider. “I don’t want to sleep with him. I just want to see that he’s real.”
“Normal dude. Farts like all of us.”
“I don’t fart.”
I choke on a laugh as I dance into my pants.
We did this yesterday morning too, but yesterday, I didn’t wait until I heard footsteps to get back upstairs.
Ever since dinner the other night, I feel like I’m walking around on completely different feet.
More stable feet.
Feet that aren’t braced against having the rug pulled out from under them at any minute.
Talking to Cricket—saying the words I’ve never said out loud to anyone about my insecurities with my marriage—she wasn’t horrified.
She didn’t run away.
Didn’t freak out over the facade I put up.
Instead, she did the most Cricket thing, and she made me feel not just okay, but good.
She reminded me that I get to be human after years of feeling like I had to be so much more.
And if I were to get up tomorrow morning, declare I was sitting on my couch in my underwear, watching baseball and eating cereal all day long—she’d be the first person to bring me more milk.
I can’t move. I can’t leave here.
I haven’t said it out loud yet, or even to myself, but I need to stay an step up for my family while we all try to save our home.
And I want—I want to stay for Cricket.
For—for whatever this is.
“You coming up for breakfast again?” I ask.
“After I check on The Cluckinator.”
That chicken.
It’s Cricket’s new best friend, which is something my daughter takes exception to.
She’d prefer to be Cricket’s best friend.
And the bird’s too.
Have a feeling we’ll be getting a real chicken coop and friends for The Cluckinator soon.
And I don’t hate it.
Raising chickens with my—my special friend—seems nice.
I kiss Cricket hard and fast, and then I dash up the stairs before Lav comes wandering down.
My daughter is also a bouncing bundle of energy. Excitement’s contagious.
And everyone’s excited.
Garden’s ready. Cricket and I got the trellis up yesterday, and she wove the vines from the ground into it.
It’s anemic, but still pretty.
Little water, little sunshine, and it’ll be gorgeous for the wedding.
The mother-in-law house is ready. I double-triple-checked everything inside it myself yesterday too.
Pip has orders to wear clothes.
Samantha and Olivia have planned feasts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner through when the couple departs on Monday.
Dori’s pitched in everywhere she’s been asked, and Ginny and Mabel have been burning the candle at both ends to keep up with their regular jobs in addition to getting the main house as clean and polished as they can get it without gutting the place.
All this to show the couple a place they’ve already been.
But this time as their wedding venue.
“Daddy, did you have a wedding?” Lav asks as Cricket lets herself into the kitchen.
“Yes,” I tell her.
“Did you wear a dress?”
“I wore a suit. Your mommy wore a dress. You’ve seen the pictures.”
She grins over her avocado toast. “Just checking that you remembered.”
“Morning,” Cricket says. “Everyone sleep well?”
I pass her a coffee cup like we haven’t seen each other already this morning. “Fantastic,” I say.
“I had a dream Fluffy wouldn’t stop licking me,” Lav says. “And then I woke up and my bed was wet.”
I blink at her. “What? When?”
She hasn’t wet the bed in months, but I know it can still happen sometimes.
“When Fluffy was trying to get to Cricket,” Lav says. “Don’t worry, Dad. I handled it.”
I make a mental note to check her sheets. “You need a quick shower this morning?”
“Showers are awful. Ladies take baths. Right, Cricket?”
And now I’m picturing Cricket in a bathtub.
Mine’s bigger than hers. I should invite her up.
I should also stop thinking about this before my daughter turns wrong and gets an eyeful of my tenting pants.
“Right,” Cricket says. “Plus, the fall risk is less.”
Lav wrinkles her nose. “I fell in the bath once. It was Fluffy’s fault.”
“A lot of things are Fluffy’s fault.”
“She’s a good cat, but she has her moments.”
Cricket smiles.
I smile.
Waffles.
I make killer waffles. The secret’s the topping.
Tomorrow’s Sunday. I can make her waffles.
My phone vibrates hard on the countertop.
Cricket’s vibrates softer. I can hear it, but not see it, so I assume it’s in the pocket of her pajama shorts.
We lock eyes.
If both of us are getting messages—
We each grab our phones.
Read the message.
Then lock eyes again.
She’s clearly suppressing a squeal.
“Who arrives before eight in the morning?” I say. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I have to go,” Cricket says to Lav. She lifts her mug in my direction. “Thanks for…coffee.”
She did not want to say coffee.
She wanted to say for two orgasms before seven.
I’m sure of it.
“Grown-ups are so weird,” Lav mutters. “Daddy, can I have one ponytail and one braid today?”
“Sure,” I say as Cricket sends me one more smile before disappearing back down the steps.
“And a pony?” Lav says.
I look at my daughter.
She grins at me. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. What if it’s a pretend pony?”
“To ride into battle against the dragons?”
“I’ve slayed all the dragons. Now I need to learn to ride a show pony.”
Too fast.
She’s growing up too fast. Moving on to new things too fast.
All while still occasionally wetting the bed.
Grown-ups are complicated?
I think she means all humans at all stages.
Including the getting-married stages.
I text back to the group thread, saying that I’ll be over after parental duties.
A text from Cricket pops up simultaneously, saying she’ll be over after a quick shower.
I smile again.
“Why are you so happy?” Lav says.
I glance up at her. “I’m excited about meeting the bride and groom,” I lie.
In all honesty—it’s beautiful to think of Cricket showering.
Both because I like her naked, and because watching her this past month or so has been inspiring.
When she got here, I wasn’t sure she’d ever shower again.
And now—now, she’s ventured outside the winery’s proverbial walls, seduced me on a cliff overlooking town, and is freely showering without fear again.
I’m so fucking proud of her.
And less scared by the day of what she means to me.
I think—I think we could be happy.
Together.
In a real romantic relationship.
But there’s no rush.
One day at a time.
We’ll get there, one day at a time.