“Of course you can, CeeCee. But I’d really rather you didn’t dislocate every bone in your entire spine trying to move a couch three times bigger than you. Just be patient.”
She snarled at him—an honest to God snarl—and he couldn’t help but smirk at her stubbornness. “Are you going to give me some direction here?”
“I dunno, Eli-Belly. I’m enjoying your blustering and in-store embarrassment right now. I might just leave you stuck in the period aisle of Walgreens for the rest of your life.”
“Small problem being you actually need period supplies soooo…”
Another man joined him in the aisle, hands tucked into his back pockets as he scanned the shelves in awkward silence.
“Get Always Infinity. Regular flow. Please and thank you.”
“And Cat?”
“She’s good, thanks though.”
With a nod, he hung up. As awkward as he felt shopping for women’sthings, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for them to actually bleed for days every fucking month, still rock their lives like total queens, and not kill anyone.
For as strong as he was, papercuts brought him to his knees, he’d straight up die if he had periods. Reaching for the Clare-approved box of pads, he paused. “Just call her, man.”
The man next to him shook his head.
With a sigh, Elliott picked up the pads. “My girlfriend says these are good, in case that helps.”
The stranger didn’t meet his eyes, his bright red face stayed pointed straight ahead, but he nodded. Wordlessly, he grabbed two boxes of the same kind of pads Clare had told Elliott to get, turned on his heels, and fled.
Next time Elliott was sent to the store forprovisions, he was going to bring Mason with him. Someone needed to prepare the younger generation for the paralyzing fear of potentially bringing the wrong tampons home to their girlfriends.
It took him fifteen minutes to get back to Clare’s, and the scents making their way down her front walk were enough to make him salivate. They’d been back together for only a matter of months, but turning up at her door for dinner was becoming a nightly thing. Despite the fact Cat was in college, and Mason was back and forth to his dad’s, it felt like home. He didn’t even knock anymore.
“Honey, I’m hoooooome!” He pushed the door open, unsuccessfully tried to dodge the blast of heat that smacked him in the face, and stepped inside.
In the kitchen, Clare basted an unusually large chicken. Mason chopped veggies to her left, and Cat worked the KitchenAid mixer on the island.
“Looks like I was out at just the right time. Avoiding all the hard work.” He kissed Clare’s sweaty temple and gave her waist a squeeze. “How was work?”
She’d started her new job a while ago, and though the transition from her old boss had been bumpy, the office at least sounded to be operating a little better with her at the helm. Not that he ever had any doubt.
“Exhausting.”
“We could have ordered takeout.”
She shook her head. “Not again. I refuse to eat another meal out of a bag this week.”
Chuckling, he kissed her again. “It’ll be better now that the season is over.”
The Snow Pirates had gotten to the finals of the playoffs but fell at the last hurdle. As painful as it was to have lost in the last game, it was an overwhelming relief to know that the previous season hadn’t been a fluke. He was, in fact, capable of putting together a championship deserving team.
And that felt pretty damn nice.
He reached over Clare’s head to grab glasses from the cupboard. “White or red?”
“Either. Both. Just make it a big one. Skip the glass, just leave the bottle and a really long straw.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at her and grabbed a bottle of white from the fridge. As he twisted the corkscrew, the doorbell chimed.
“I’ll get it.” An all-too-eager Cat abandoned her cheesecake making and made a beeline for the door. “Oh. It’s you.” Disappointment coated her words. “Come in. Mom, it’s for you.”
“Actually, I’m just here to give this back to Mason. He left it at my place last weekend.” The Sperm Donor followed Cat into the kitchen. “Wow.” He gestured around the room with Mason’s helmet. “You’ve done a lot of work around here.”
