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“He doesn’t like that Aunt Beth is marrying a woman?” Noelle asks, her lips pressed into a thin line and her brows pinched in obvious annoyance.
“Men get their egos bruised easily,” I explain. “He doesn’t like that she’s marrying anyone that isn’t him,” I explain.
“Even though he doesn’t love her anymore?” Noelle asks innocently.
“A man with an ego and something to prove is the most dangerous kind.”
We reach the car and Noelle places her hand on my arm to stop me.
“You and Aunt Beth aren’t close,” she says, “but you defend her.”
I take a deep breath. “We love each other, but it’s complicated,” I say. “You’d understand if you had a sister.”
Noelle narrows her eyes at me, unsatisfied with my explanation, so I continue. “Think of it this way – no one else is allowed to pick on Beth but me. It’s what older sisters do.”
She doesn’t seem particularly happy about my explanation, but she doesn’t protest.
“I don’t think I’d like having a sister,” Noelle says, shaking her head.
“You just want me all to yourself,” I say, knocking into her with my hip.
Noelle laughs and I hold up the car keys in front of her.
“Really?” she beams.
“Consider it your wedding present. You were a toilet paper bride after all,” I say, laughing.
Technically, I had a drink, even if I didn’t finish it, but I don’t take chances where my daughter is concerned.
“Makes it all worth it,” Noelle says as I drop the keys into her eager palm.
“No speeding,” I warn her.
“So don’t take your example then?” Noelle teases as she slides into the driver’s seat of my Porsche. I’m not a flashy person, but I do like speed and comfort. After all the hard work I put in to be where I’m at in my career, I earned this one tiny pleasure.
She starts the engine, adjusting her seat and mirror.
“I’m never getting married,” Noelle says, pulling away from the curb.
I buckle my seatbelt and smile.
* * *
Kicking off my shoes,I prop my feet onto the coffee table. Noelle carries a bowl of popcorn into the living room and sets it down between us on the couch. She curls her legs underneath herself and digs into the bowl before grabbing the remote.
“What are we watching?” I ask hesitantly.
She looks at me and I remind her, “I owe you, so it’s your pick.”
“But you let me drive the Porsche,” she says, confused.
“Because I had a drink, not because you got roped into being the toilet paper bride,” I confess, guiltily.
“I feel used,” she deadpans, and I roll my eyes.
“Just pick a movie, but please don’t let it be one of your weird Anime shows,” I beg, teasingly.
Noelle smiles and rubs her palms together maniacally.
