Page 47 of You're so Vain


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Ruthie wins, of course. She makes the pasta, and I eat the pasta, but I also win—because I use Uber Eats to order cake from a bakery downtown. When it shows up, Izzy doesn’t get the significance, but Ruthie gives me a point to you look over the white cardboard box. I have the pleasure of having surprised her. Of having both displeased and pleased her with the same action.

It’s obvious she expects me to leave after the cake, but I have no intention of going anywhere until Izzy is in bed so we can talk privately about Rita—and the dangers of staying in this apartment.

Maybe they can move in with Danny and Mira for a couple of months, until we’re certain Rita stopping by the school was a drunken fluke.

“Well,” Ruthie says after we finish cleaning the dishes. “I have to get Izzy to bed soon, so…”

“Mom,” Izzy interjects, her eyes full of excitement. “Can Uncle Shane stay a bit longer so he can read the Unicorn Diaries? He does the funniest voice for the teacher.”

“Who? Mr. Rumptwinkle?” I say in my best unicorn bray.

“Yes!” she laugh-screams, and I’d cover my ears if it weren’t so damn cute.

“It’s up to Uncle Shane,” Ruthie says, giving me a look saying she knows my game. I’ve decided to stay, and she won’t prevent it, but she’s not happy.

That’s fine. She’ll be even less happy after I’ve spoken with her.

We play a round of Candyland, and then Ruthie gives me a sly grin. “Honey,” she says to Izzy. “Why don’t we play Pretty Pretty Princess Unicorn?”

“Yes!” Izzy shrieks, running off to grab the box.

Ruthie’s smug expression suggests she thinks she’s getting away with something.

“Dare I ask what Pretty Pretty Princess Unicorn is?”

“Oh,” she says, giving me a glance that shivers through me and settles in my dick. “You’re about to find out, Vain.” Then she reaches out and taps my nose, the same way she did earlier. Goddamn, it’s like that small contact radiates outward and lights me up from within. It awakens me.

Izzy comes traipsing back in, holding a bright pink and purple box. “It’s so fun, Uncle Shane,” she says in a rush. “We each get to pick a color of jewelry, and there’s a spinboard and a cursed ring and a unicorn headband. And by the end we’re all going to look so pretty.”

I give Ruthie a flat look. “Well-played.”

Then, because I’ll do this for Izzy and no one else, I help unpack the game.

I’m the winner, rah, rah, me, and by the time we’re finished, I have on a necklace that doesn’t fit and had to rest on my hair like a headband, clip-on earrings, a bracelet that doesn’t fit and had to be woven around my finger as a ring, a ring that barely clings to the top joint of my pinky, and a unicorn crown. I look like an idiot, and Ruthie’s grin is blinding. I’m amused, and dear God, I am so turned on by her. It may have been the dress that started it, earlier, but whatever it unleashed is still throbbing through me.

“I think we need a photo,” she says with a clap of her hands. She’s got the bracelet on too, and a necklace and earrings. Izzy’s got them all except for the crown.

“We should take one,” Izzy says, “but I’ll admit I’m disappointed that I didn’t get the crown.”

“Here, you take it,” I say, because I’d really like to get it off my head. I had to jam it on to get it to fit.

“No, no, you were the winner,” Izzy insists, tugging on one of her ponytails. “It wouldn’t be right if I wore it when you were the winner. I just wanted to be the winner.”

“You are the best sport in all of sportdom,” Ruthie says to her with an even wider grin. “I’m proud of you.”

“So am I,” I say with a grimace, because I came so close to being able to ditch the crown. But being close to winning is still being a loser. “But sportdom isn’t a thing.”

Ruthie raises her eyebrows. “Come over here, Mr. Rumptwinkle. Time for photos.”

She’s a sadist, because she makes me take the selfies since “I have longer arms.” Flower gets in on the action too—Ruthie holding the squirming dog in her arms so she can be in the photos.

I’m certain they’ll make their way to Danny at some point. And once that happens, surely the rest of my friends will see them too. But I can’t quite find the energy to be mad about Ruthie thinking she’s getting away with something. I tell myself it’s just because she’ll be more liable to see things my way in the conversation that’s about to come, but I don’t fully believe it.

Afterward, while Ruthie’s getting Izzy ready for bed, I find myself looking at the photo. Ruthie’s mischievous grin makes me smile, and Izzy looks overjoyed. But it’s the look in my own eyes that’s a bit disarming. I look satisfied. Happy. Nothing at all like a man whose arm has been twisted into wearing a unicorn crown. For the first time, I understand why Freeman might have gotten things so wrong about us, because we almost look like a family. It reminds me of the photos lining the hallway in my mother’s house. The thought makes me click away from the photo and pull up my messaging app to send a quick text to my mother.

Was today a good day?

I’m fine, Shane. You don’t need to worry about me.

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