Page 67 of Twisted Needs

I smirk despite myself. That’s always been Jen’s thing. She can insult me and make it sound affectionate.

Molly grabs onto my beard suddenly, yanking hard enough to make me hiss. “Jesus Christ,” I laugh, prying her tiny fingers off me. “You’ve got a grip on you.”

“She gets that from me, actually. You remember how good my grip is, don’t you?”

“Har-har,” I mutter plainly. “Poor Vince. I don’t know how he puts up with you.”

“Obviously my tits. Have you seen how big these things are lately from all the breastfeeding I’m doing?”

“I stopped looking at those things after the divorce.”

She snorts. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

“Shhh.”

I look down at Molly again. Red hair. Blue eyes. Chubby cheeks.

Jen always wanted this life. Not necessarily the husband attached to it, but the life itself. She’s never been able to sit still in silence for very long. I used to think eventually marriage would settle her down. Instead I think she started looking at me like I was the thing keeping her still. When she stopped looking at me like her best friend and started looking at me as an evil man she was married to, I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

“Anyway,” Jen says after another sip of beer, “what ever happened to that Kenneth guy? The one you fucked back in August?”

I tense without meaning to. “I told you it was a one night stand, darling.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m pretty sure I recall it being two separate occasions.”

“Two occasions. Two weeks apart.”

“Which is basically a decade for you.”

I hand Molly back to her when she reaches for her mom. Jen settles the baby on her hip again and watches me too carefully.

“I thought it was nice, you know…you finally finding someone,” Jen says, walking over to an open spot on the living room floor to set up her changing pad.

“I just needed to let off some steam.”

“Yeah, I know, but…oh, come on, Park. You’re about to be thirty-nine. You haven’t remarried. You haven't been in a serious relationship since me.”

I look away toward the kitchen window. “Because I haven’t been looking for a relationship. There’s just things that are more important,” I tell her. But that’s not entirely the truth. I have been looking—just in all the wrong places.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not anymore.

Jen’s expression softens immediately with recognition. Too much recognition. “Well,” she says quietly, “at least you’ve been consistent. Glad you’re not a manwhore.”

I let out a short laugh, but it dies quickly.

“You’re a good man, Parker,” Jen tells me quietly. “You really are.” Immediately my stomach twists, because all I can think about is Anders on the verge of tears. Anders telling me he’s done trying.

He’s probably the most precious thing in my life and I still found a way to make him feel like he’s anything less than my perfect, sweet Anders.

“You okay, honey?” She’s at the sink now washing her hands. I realize I’ve gone completely still.

“Yeah,” I answer automatically. Too fast and too flat.

Jen studies me with growing concern. “Park.”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”