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"Not without Danny, and there's no way that I'm subjecting him to a flight all the way to Beijing and Lord knows whatever else." He shakes his head. "But enough about business. You should go home. We all have to be up tomorrow morning."
I walk over and kiss Danny's sweet little head. "Bye, little one." Kissing Danny's head puts me in very close proximity to Jeff's face. There's a tense, breathless moment, then I'm walking out. "Bye, Jeff."
"Bye," he says as I walk down the stairs. My heart is hammering like a team of particularly enthusiastic contractors on a roof. I need to go home.
When I get in the door, my dad is up a ladder.
"What are you doing, Dad?"
"Looking for a suitcase," he says. "A carry-on isn't going to cut it."
He must have found what he was looking for, because he grunts with the effort and pulls a giant black suitcase out.
"How long are you planning on being g
one? A year?"
"No, a little less than that." My dad carefully comes down the ladder. I extend a hand to take the suitcase, but he carries it down, using only one hand to steady himself. "But there's no way that I'm leaving you alone in this house before you go to school." "Dad," I say. "I'm 19. One of my friends is married and has a baby."
"Camilla is 20," he says. "And Lincoln is capable of providing for her and the baby."
I stick out my lower lip.
"You're living next door until I get back."
My entire body flashes hot and then freezing cold. "What?"
"You heard me. I'm not leaving a teenager alone in my house for an indeterminate amount of time. I have no clue how long I'll need to be over there. I know you're going to school, so you might as well get ahead of the packing and do a trial move next door. You can go home for anything you need. By the end of the summer, you'll have everything you actually need for school."
"But I..."
"Not negotiable," my dad says, his voice as hard as nails. I know when he's putting his foot down, and right now he's basically putting a hole in the floor with the force behind it.
"Fine," I say. I turn and go up the stairs. Holy crap. I'm going to be living with Jeff. He has the space. I'm not worried about not getting my own room and bathroom, but what is it going to be like living with him?
I guess I need to start doing some packing of my own. My dad sounds like he's not expecting to come home before I go to school, so it'll be another 3 months or so at least. What do I need?
I start dumping all of my sundresses into a suitcase. Jeff keeps his house a little warmer than ours. I have a feeling that wearing Daisy Dukes around Jeff would result in a phone call with my dad. I pack some undergarments and some pairs of shoes. And I'm pretty much done. I go to my bathroom and pack all of my toiletries in a mesh beach bag. I only take the shampoo and conditioner that I use on a daily basis. After a few moments, I also take the only gel that makes my hair behave. Toothbrush and toothpaste, those are important, right? And cleanser.
I stand in front of my makeup kit and debate bringing it over. On one hand, it's pretty easy to move. It's huge but really well organized. On the other hand, maybe I'd get tempted to be...inappropriate while living with Jeff.
I agonize for a few more moments before I decide to take it. Maybe there'll be an occasion where I'll want to wear makeup beyond SPF 15 sunscreen and I'll need it. I ignore the voice in the back of my head saying that I can come home if that's the case.
And then I'm pretty much packed. I can bring all of this over tomorrow morning when I go over to watch Danny.
Chapter 8
Temporary Move
Elia
The next morning, I'm feeling like a pack mule as I lug all of my stuff over there. It's not so far away that I need a car, and it's just long enough to make the handles of my bags dig into my hands. By the time I get to the porch, I'm disgruntled enough that I don't notice my big makeup kit knocking into one of the support beams of the porch. It makes an almighty sound. I hope none of the things inside with mirrors break.
"Good morning," Jeff says, opening the door. My knees feel weak. He hasn't shaved yet today and his hair is in disarray. "Danny woke up and starting barfing," he says.
Way to pour cold water on me. "Is he okay?"
"I think it's just a tiny bug," he says. "I already called the pediatrician's office. They said to monitor his temperature and bring him in if it seemed dangerous."
