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“That doesn’t make sense, Mom,” Izzy says, rubbing her eyes. “Why would he come over in the middle of the night to try on Uncle Danny’s pajamas? They’re not even the same size. Uncle Danny’s at least two inches taller than him.”
“I’m plenty tall,” I can’t help but say.
“Yes,” Ruthie says with obvious amusement at my expense. “You’re very big and strong.” She wraps an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You need to go back to bed, sweetheart. You have school in the morning.”
Izzy’s face puckers into a pout. “I don’t want to go to school. Goldie told me her Polly Pocket was prettier than mine. We’re in a fight.”
“Why did either of you have your Polly Pockets at school?” Ruthie asks, at the same time I ask, “Is Goldie a person’s name?”
“We had Show & Tell this morning, Mom,” Izzy says, sounding a little peeved. “I told you yesterday.”
Ruthie sighs and lifts one hand from Izzy to rub her own forehead. “And you brought a Polly Pocket?”
“We talked about this already,” Izzy continues.
Ruthie looks guilty, as if her failure to remember the toy thing is a profound personal mistake she’ll be remembering on her death bed. Someone needs to tell her to chill the fuck out, but it wouldn’t be me—I have too much respect for my balls.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Ruthie says. “I don’t remember.”
Izzy sighs. “I knew you weren’t listening. You had that look on your face you always get when you’re not listening.”
“You mean when she stares off into the distance?” I say, because I can’t avoid the temptation to get involved in this game. “She’s been doing that since she was a little girl.”
“You’re still here?” Ruthie says, giving me a look that would wither a lesser man’s balls.
“So it would seem.”
“Bedtime,” she says as she squeezes Izzy to her. She bends to kiss the fuzzy top of her head, and there’s a warm feeling in my chest, as if I just had a fine pour of whiskey. I might not want a family of my own, but any asshole would see they’re cute together. Seeing them is like seeing a baby animal. Even if you don’t want a pet, baby animals are, by nature’s design, adorable, and it’s hard not to feel moved by their big eyes and soft fur. “You need to get some sleep. You and Goldie can talk it out in the morning. Remind her that two things can be pretty without making each other less pretty.”
“But I want to pet Flower,” Izzy says, her gaze zeroing in on the little dog, who gives a flop of her tail at the sound of her name but doesn’t get up. Now that she’s pissed on me, she’s feeling positively restful.
“Okay, go pet Flower, then time for bed.”
Izzy doesn’t wait—she scampers over to the dog and bends down next to her, worshipping at her feet as if she’s a golden god instead of a little mutt with incontinence issues.
Even so, that warmth in my chest is spreading. I can’t afford to be soft, though. If I want to carry through with this lie, I need to be calculated. I need to be strong. So I swallow the feeling and clear my throat. “All right, ladies, I’ll leave you to it.”
“Are you taking Uncle Danny’s pajamas?” Izzy asks, glancing up at me.
“Yes,” I say. “Your mom showed them to me, and I had to have them for myself.” I grin at Ruthie. She’s actually smiling at me, which is an interesting change. “What do you think? Maybe you can get him a Polly Pocket instead?”
Izzy laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think Uncle Danny would play with it. He told me he doesn’t see the point of them.”
I don’t know what the fuck a Polly Pocket is, to be honest, but I’m guessing I’d side with Danny on this one. So I just grin at her. “Goodnight, sweetie. Hope you figure it out with Goldenrod. It’s no good to be on the outs with friends.”
I feel a pang of guilt, because I don’t imagine Danny’s going to be thrilled with me when all is said and done. It’s a shitty thing to do to a friend—something I know he wouldn’t do to me. If I had a sister.
“Her name is Marigold,” Izzy corrects, “not Goldenrod.” Not much better. “But I want you to read to me, Uncle Shane. I don’t think I can get back to sleep after all this excitement unless you read to me.”
I glance over her head at Ruthie, grinning, because I know a Grade-A manipulation when I see one. Truth be told, I’m proud of the tyke. “I’m okay with it if your mom says it’s all right.”
Ruthie’s annoyed glance tells me I’ve left her no choice if she doesn’t want to become the bad guy, and I suppose she’s right. “One book,” she says.
“Okay,” Izzy agrees brightly, giving Flower a hug that looks like it’s half-throttling her. I take off my coat again, laying it back over the arm of the couch. Then Izzy leads me to her bedroom, her steps so spritely I’m guessing Ruthie isn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
“I’m going to have you read my favorite unicorn story,” she tells me. “It’s about Bo the unicorn and her friends. They go to school, but it’s not like my school. It’s a fun school.”
“School doesn’t have to be fun,” I say. “It’s where you go to learn stuff so you can get a job and make enough money to buy all the Polly Pockets you want.”
