Why are threesomes only for sex? I want to join into a couple’s argument.
—Constance’s secret thoughts
Constance
“Con Con!”
I looked at my daughter, who actually had some life to her now that we’d moved to Montana and found this mysterious blood donor.
“Why are you calling me that instead of mommy?” I asked her.
She smiled. “Sandy at school calls her mom by her first name.”
“Well, that’s Sandy. Not you,” I pointed out. “Have a good day at school today, okay? Remember, Grandma is going to pick you up.”
Wendy nodded. “Are you sure you have to go?”
I wished I didn’t.
I’d tried to get out of it. I mean, I had a child that still required a hell of a lot of work, whether she was doing better or not. I shouldn’t have to be relying on my parents.
Yet, the woman that I’d called about the federal jury duty hadn’t cared. She’d pretty much pointed out that as long as I wasn’t in imminent danger of giving birth or had a child under one that was still exclusively breastfed, they generally didn’t care about my excuse.
Being the type of person that I was—amenable and straight-laced—I’d decided that it was better not to argue.
“You should’ve just pretended that you never got it,” my dad, who was very anti-government, said. “They can’t prove that you got it. Not without sending it certified mail. And even then, you have to sign for it. You could just not sign for it.”
I sighed. “It’ll be okay. You act like you don’t adore watching Wendy.”
Dad’s eyes looked at my girl. “I mean, she kind of stinks now that she’s started PE again.”
“Grandpa!” Wendy cried out in outrage. “That’s not nice!”
Dad’s eyes twinkled.
Mine did, too.
Mostly because we were both freakin’ ecstatic that she was even able to participate in physical education.
“I’m heading out.” I dropped a kiss onto Wendy’s head, which was, sadly, only a foot under my five-foot-one-inch height.
She was big for her age.
She got that from her father, who’d been really tall. About six-foot-seven.
The size difference between her father and me had been the butt of many jokes, but we’d adored each other.
We’d been best friends since childhood. We were raised together. Went to college together. And we’d lived in the same town since we’d become best friends.
We weren’t in love with each other, though.
After one night of drunken sex, we’d found out that we were expecting.
Mackey and I both had been pretty upbeat about it, and the pregnancy had gone great.
That is until Mackey’s best friend, Errol, had found out that I’d slept with Mackey.
He’d thrown a fucking fit because he’d thought that he was going to be the one to win me. And when his best friend had stolen what he thought was his, he’d beat the absolute shit out of him.
