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“That’s what you thought?”
He couldn’t lie so outright to her. “I thought it was Drew.”
“And you didn’t like how that made you feel.”
How was it that she could read him so much better than he could read her? That was his problem. Feelings too intense for a relationship too temporary.
“I think we should put on loud music and dance till our legs give out,” she said.
“That’s not on a coupon.”
“An off-coupon special.”
He came around the counter. “Very loud music, from musicians I’ve never heard of.” He put a hand to her ear and worked an earring out. Did the other one, putting them both on the counter. Then he lifted the necklace over her head. She let her shoes drop to the floor one by one. He took the pearl slide from her hair and was surprised to find it didn’t fall everywhere.
“There are pins and a band. Artfully tousled hair like this doesn’t just happen.”
He found them. One by one, the pins went to the countertop, until Flick’s hair was free and his emotions had settled, soothed by the process of undressing her.
“I overreacted,” he said.
“Talking to Elsie makes me
so mad and then it depresses me. Knowing you were worried like that makes me want to keep you forever, Tom.”
But that wasn’t on a coupon either, regular glitter pack or special off-coupon offer.
They both changed. He cooked and they watched the first episode of The Handmaid’s Tale instead of dancing. They went to bed on clean sheets in Tom’s room where it wasn’t dystopian societies or coupons or forever that mattered. It was skin and touch, reaction and smell and every emotion they were both capable of that counted.
Chapter Eighteen
After that night when Flick spooked him, Tom took it easy with the coupons, going for the least emotionally taxing ones. They went out to breakfast. He dressed her for bed, in her sleep shorts and T-shirt, and then changed his mind and dressed her in nothing. They saw a movie—he did, she fell asleep during it—and had Vietnamese takeout that was delicious.
He was less easy with her about her shopping. Saturday morning she went out and bought new bikes at Target. “Glad that’s done,” she said, when they were sharing a bowl of nachos on the balcony.
“For now.”
“Right, until the girls grow again, because these new bikes aren’t as pawnable, but that’s not what you meant, is it?” He crunched a corn chip and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What am I supposed to do, Tom?”
“Set boundaries.”
“With my own family.” It was all right for him, he didn’t have people who needed his help. “What kind of person would that make me?”
“One who’ll survive them.”
“I might resent how they go about asking for help, but that doesn’t mean it’s not deserved.”
“I’m not saying don’t help out.”
“I know what you’re saying, put them on a budget, be selective, don’t let them take advantage of me.” She unfolded from the sun lounge and went to the railing, kept her back to him. “You don’t think I’ve tried all of that?” Tried and failed and put that on repeat.
“You saw how things are with Dad. They’d be worse if I hadn’t put distance between us. I don’t want things to be worse for you because your family keep dragging on you.”
“I can handle it.” Tom should stick to making nachos.
“Flick Dalgetty, you can handle anything you put your mind to, but no one should make you act out of guilt that’s not deserved.”
The tension dropped out of her neck and shoulders. He wasn’t trying to start a fight about this. She turned and rested her back against the railing. “You’re sweet on me, Tom O’Connell.”
