Polly nose scrunches as she pulls very slightly away, and theatrically announces, “I must be off,” before adding, “Oh dear!”
It all happens so quickly, but I’m not fooled because I distinctly feel her hand sliding up my arm. She whips my jacket from my finger, her other hand planted suddenly and firmly against my chest. “Oh no!” she adds as she pushes—pushes me—very fucking hard.
I hear Mimi’s sharp intake of breath, see the blurred motion of her movement, but that was a solid shove and I’m moving backward far too quickly for anyone to stop the momentum. The only thing to wait for is the splash.
“Fuck!” The water is the kind of ball-shrinking cold. Only a few months ago, this body of water was partially frozen over. “Jesus Christ, Polly!”
“Oh no! Darling! I’m so sorry,” the culprit calls back. She looks sorry, too. She’s a good actress, my mother.
“Are you okay?” Mimi’s worried face joins my mum’s at the edge of the boat ramp. I stand up because the water isn’t that deep at the edge. Still deep enough to make me feel like my nipples might fall off, though.
“It’s fucking freezing,” I say, wading to the edge as I glower Polly’s way.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says, turning a troubled expression to Mimi. “I think I was about to trip, and I must’ve pushed poor Whit in confusion.”
Utter bullshit.
“Are you okay, mate?” The boat worker appears next to Polly.
“Yeah.” My teeth begin to chatter, forcing me to clamp them together. It’s easier to scowl that way. “Just about.”
“Well, look on the bright side,” Polly says as the bloke holds out his hand to help me out of the drink.
“And that what bright side would that be what?” I grunt through the exertion of climbing out.
“I have your jacket, so your phone and wallet are intact.” She smiles brightly. “Also, Mimi just had a Mr. Darcy moment.” With her back turned to the woman in question, she mouths, “You’re welcome.”
Like I needed the help.
36
WHIT
“Jeans and sneakers?”
“Yeah.” I give her a quick once-over. “What you’ve got on is fine. More than fine.” Black jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt slashed at the neck. Cute little sneakers, I mean, trainers, and a jacket. Mimi looks as cute as fuck.
“And you’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope,” I repeat. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to call it a surprise.”
“Man, I hate surprises,” she lies, doing this cute little dance in on the spot.
“That’s a shame because I love dishing them out. You ready?”
“Yeah. No, wait. I’m gonna put on the boots.”
“The new ones?” The ones from the boutique, she means. Can I just say Mimi is the best Barbie Doll ever. I’ve never had an interest in buying a woman clothes before. The odd posh purse, maybe. Wave something with a designer label under a girl’s nose and they’re usually very grateful.And their thanks muffled when they drop to their knees. But buying Mimi clothes has been very, very different. I find I want to treat her because it’s a pleasure all on its own. And I love the little fashion shows she’s treated me to. Especially the lingerie.
“Yeah, the ankle boots,” she says, her gaze flicking down to her feet.
“Stick to the sneakers,” I suggest.
“Comfort over cuteness?”
“Comfort with cute. Now, come on.”
“Hey, George. Where are we off to?” Mimi bounces out of the door of the building thinking she’s being the cunning kind of cute as she bounds up to the driver, who’s waiting by the car.
