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“I’m at the mall, Dad. Fucking mall. I hate New Orleans. Well, I hate Miami, but this place? Fucking boring.”

“It’s a historical city. Centre of many world events.”

She snorted.

“Just spoke to your mommy.”

“And?”

“I don’t want to say anything.”

“Wait,” she said, and hung up.

Normal for Constance. I knew how she functioned, and at least she was reliable. She’d ring me back, but for now, I stormed down the stairs, threw myself on the bed and crawled into his arms.

Another new habit. Something I needed more than air. Food. Water. Just to lie here and contain the panic, not scream or cry. My mouth made puffy little sounds that betrayed me.

“You know,” he said, taking those stupid reading glasses away from his nose.

“What?” I asked. God, I felt like I was having a heart attack.

He held me, placing a small kiss at the top of my head.

“We should try something new.”

“You can say the words.” It made me smile. What was this? My life? Surreal. Absurd. Chaotic on a grand scale.

“My son calls it getting laid.” He was blushing. I loved it when he did. His handsome face. The way he bent down and kissed me.

“Your son is not wrong,” I said impatiently. “I have a lot to tell you. I don’t even know where to start. And now you’re telling me you want to get laid?”

I was joking, but also not.

“Talk,” he said. “Then perhaps after, you’ll get lucky.”

“Lucky?” I smiled. “I already feel lucky.”

“We both are,” he said softly.

“I thought…” I started, then stopped myself. Too much coming out at once. “You’re so easy to talk to,” I confessed. “And you know you said you couldn’t talk to women and couldn’t flirt and all that? You did good with me. Look at us.”

“I forced you to clean your house and get in the shower,” he pointed out.

“And look what that got you.”

“What did it get me?” He smiled. I did too.

“You got yourself a bed partner.”

“More than a bed partner. I got myself a boyfriend.” He grimaced because I knew him now. Too well.

“You can say that too. It’s not a bad word.”

“So you are?” He was stumbling on his words. Smiling. “My boyfriend?”

“I’m your friend. Your partner. The guy who sleeps next to you in bed. The guy who’s rather fond of you.”

“Sounds nice.”