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“You interview a handful of these nineteen-year-old, one-named bimbos and tell me I’m wrong.”
“One-named bimbos?” she laughed as we rounded the corner into my favorite room in the house.
The kitchen glowed with warm evening light pouring through the wall of windows overlooking the pool. Rich mahogany cabinetry, wide counters—my sanctuary, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world.
“Stacy, Kimmi, Tasha,” I mocked, Leighton's laughter growing with every complaint. “None of them have last fucking names.”
Every syllable dripping in her radiant smile, she muttered, “You’ve lost it.”
“I’m not denying it. Parenthood is the toughest hood.”
“Oh, I know it’s bad if you’re pulling out dad jokes,” she scoffed.
“Trust me, you’ll get it someday, when some tiny you is terrorizing your household and you have to trust them to a stranger.”
Her expression pinched—but just like always, it vanished before I could fully analyze it.
Though her smile wasn’t quite as jubilant when it returned.
What the hell did I just stick my fat mouth into?
Clearing my throat, I hoisted up her newly cast-free right hand and asked, “How’s the arm?”
“Fine. And I no longer have to jam a pencil into my skin to scratch an itch, thank God.”
“A little weak?”
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Nothing I can’t rebuild.”
“You like that physical therapist?”
Leighton groaned. “So obnoxious. Honestly, it feels like a waste of time for an arm.”
“Leighton,” I scolded, bursting out laughing as she screwed up her face.
“Ollie,” she mocked in the same tone. “I’m fine, okay? I’ve got eleven siblings and two overbearing parents hovering like helicopters. I’m well acquainted with rehab protocol. I promise, I’mfine.”
My gaze fell to that thin silver scar playing peekaboo with her v-cut costume. I’d always wanted to ask her about it—but judging by Alice’s glower when I brought it up once, it was a sore subject.
Not my story to tell,she’d snapped before walking off.
With that dismissal in mind, I stuck to safer territory and chuckled, “I’m not beyond demanding reports.”
“Don’t I know it,” she muttered. Stepping into a golden wall of light, her sass vanished for a second. She tilted her face into the sunshine and sighed dreamily, her blue-gray eyes sparkling, her smile punching me directly in the ribs.
Get it together, asshole.
Luckily, a teenage grumble saved me.
“Oh thank God.” Mattie slid out of the breakfast nook, glaring at Oaklyn with the enthusiasm of a scorned sixteen-year-old.
“Leigh, this is wrong.” Mattie wasn’t opposed to physical affection, but she rarely initiated it.
A fact made even more glaring when she walked straight into Leighton’s arms.
Right. Good reminderwhyyou can’t think about Leigh like that.
“Looking good,Wanda!” Leigh wrapped her up, careful not to squeeze too tightly.