Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
JD bats his eyelashes. “We’re twins. Can’t you tell?”
I cuff him lightly on the back of the head. “We’re not twins. It’s a long story.”
“Not that long. We’re foster brothers. The end.”
I shake my head. “Smartass.”
Elliot laughs. “I think I can see some resemblance now.”
“Since you’re here. Fiona? Elliot has a five-year-old daughter and they’re looking for age-appropriate activities. Maybe a playdate or two before she starts school. Any suggestions?”
JD snorts, but his shoulders relax, as if he’s finally gotten a handle on the situation. “You can’t help it, can you? I swear, you attract kids like the Pied Piper.”
When Fiona totters a bit, I slip my arm around her instinctively. For her sake, we need to wrap this up, but I can’t let that go. “That’s a shitty comparison to make. You basically called me a rat-catching kidnapper. And it’s Stewart that plays the flute.”
Fiona leans around me to catch JD’s eye. “Isn’t he the one who drinks pee?”
I ignore Elliot’s choking laugh and glare at my brother. “What are you telling people about our family?”
“The truth.” JD says defensively. “But I didn’t have to say anything this time. Fi read his book and he’s got a whole chapter on it.”
I can’t deny that. No one in the family can, even if we wanted to.
“People call him in for rescues,” I explain to Derek and Elliot. “Stewart saved that kid who was lost in the woods a few years ago. Found him before the dogs sniffed him out. You could share that with people instead.”
I know what it’s like to get stuck with a label in my family. I came out in high school, I started a successful business, and I’m apparently a shopaholic/recovering hoarder. But they still describe me as The Babysitter.
Better than The Tinkler. I won’t even think about the other nicknames.
Poor Stewart.
Fiona pats my chest and smiles at my neighbor. “There’s a calendar up at the center for kid-friendly events. Its color coded for age groups. I’ll make Joey a copy to bring back to your building. But we do need to get going now.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get to Bellamy House before I decide to keep my bobbleheads and first-edition Tolkien books. They’re collector’s items.”
JD moves closer to my car. “You’re giving away first editions?”
“How about you stop with the grabby hands and get your friend into her car before her water breaks?”
That sends him racing to Fiona’s side, glaring at me as they go in search of their parking spot.
I’ll be getting an earful later. And he’ll probably be getting a donation box of his own. No one in our family can resist him.
I look back at Elliot. “Do you need a ride?”
He shoves his hands into his jean pockets, shaking his head. “I’m good. Just glad I caught you in time.”
I step closer. “This is really going beyond the good neighbor policy. I think I owe you more than a beer now.”
“Beer works.” He smiles over at Derek, who has managed to open my door without either of us noticing. “I better go get Rue. We have a busy day planned. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
I nod and watch him mutely as he walks away.
Who is this confusing baseball player? Why does it feel like he wants more from me than my help with his daughter? And why am I hoping its true?
When will you ever learn, Joey Redmond?
***
I collapse with a small groan of relief into one of the new, comfortably padded patio chairs that arrived today. I may never get up again.
This is the first time I’ve been off my feet since breakfast, but I can see my floor now and JD’s husband is the god of getting shit done. Tonight he came over to assemble shelves, hang artwork and basically unpack what was left of my boxes while JD and I were playing tug-o-war over my comic book collection.
“You don’t even like comics.”
“I do! And it’s a hardcover. I need it.”
Now that I’m finally alone again, I can’t help feeling like this day was at least a week long. Maybe more. And I’m still wondering why Elliot went out of his way like that. Which is why I’m out here on this balcony. Because some part of me knows he’ll be joining me.
Some part of me wants him to.
“You look tired.”
Elliot’s voice is hushed, probably in deference to his sleeping daughter, the adorable dark-haired faerie I saw peering out their door while my hands were full of trash and cardboard remnants.
“You’re Joey?”
“Yep. You’re Rue?”
“Yep.”
“Roos and Joeys are both names for baby kangaroos. Isn’t that weird?”
“You’re weird.”
“Yep.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
I’m pretty sure we’re friends now.
“I am. It’s been a busy day. Finally winding down.” I noticed my shoulders only started relaxing at his arrival. Other parts of me, not so much.