Page 15

I adjust my pants, again, and cross one leg over my knee. Damn, I need to get laid. I make a mental note to sign back in to Topped later. I don’t much care about dating, but I’ve met several decent hookups from the app.

“Sure. Is it Penny, then?” he asks.

“Leave the small Montgomery out of this.”

“Come on, Emerson, you were good with her. I don’t know why she scares you so much.” Just the mention of the girl has my chest on fire.

The can of soup I brought is sitting sad and forgotten on the hardwood not far from the door, the pink mooing unicorn not far from it. That damn stuffed animal has been shoved on the top shelf of my closet since Penelope was still in Sabrina’s stomach.

I’m a terrible uncle figure.

“I am not scared of a child, Dillon. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Was it the kiss?”

I jump up from the couch so fast, the whole damn thing squeaks against the floor.

“I forgot I have a date,” I blurt, scanning the area to make sure I won’t be forgetting anything when I run out the door.

Dillon’s back straightens, arms falling to his sides. “A date? Now?”

I’m nodding my head frantically as I slip back into my shoes, “Yep, now. Have to go. Not gonna top myself.”

What?

I spin back around when I get to the door but keep my hand on the doorknob.

“I told you we were never to speak of that night.”

Dillon opens his mouth to respond, but I don’t know if he bothered when the door slams closed behind me.

Emerson

“Did you just click interested?” I gasp, fisting Ian’s hair and using my grip to yank his head so I can see my phone screen better.

Ian yelps, making both Mary Ellen and her client look over at us from Mary’s station next to mine. I smile, still holding my stupid brother’s hair in a death grip. “Sorry, girls, he’s just tender-headed.”

Mary Ellen smiles and goes back to her haircut. Meanwhile, Ian has his shoulders up to his ears. “He said he liked cruising and loves a cute otter!”

“That does not mean what you think it means, Eeyore,” I hiss.

“He had a nice smile,” Ian says, raised inflection at the end like a hesitant question.

“He looked old enough to be our dad.”

Ian’s mouth stretches in an oops type face that he makes all the damn time. I finally release his hair to continue his cut.

“I honestly forgot I was looking for you. I’m not good at this, dude. I feel bad swiping on anyone.” I snort. That’s so Ian. He’s one of the most honest people I know, but will do just about anything to keep from hurting someone’s feelings.

I couldn’t stop checking Topped, and he finally snatched my phone to see what I was going on and on about. Now I’ll have to go back through and remove all the profiles he liked against my will before my DM’s blow up from a gaggle of dudes I’m not interested in.

I had the app re-downloaded while still in Dillon’s driveway yesterday. Then, I went swiping like a madman, or horny man, as soon as I got home. Eleanor and I judged no less than sixty men last night and this morning.

If there was any validity in what my mom used to tell me about kids’ faces getting stuck in expressions, I’d be toast. I’d have a permanent stank face, because what the hell are men even doing?

It always sounds like a good idea to re-download Topped or consider dating again, but it never takes long to remember why I stopped in the first place.

The bar is very much in the depths of hell.