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Thunk.
I hit a bum note, wincing and shaking my head. Need to focus. No one around seems to have noticed, butIsure heard it. There’s no excuse for sloppy playing, even on an easy gig like this.
Stars pulse overhead, and the diners laugh and clink their glasses. A waiter strides past with a tray of dessert, some hot, gooey thing smothered in toffee, and my stomach growls. Now that’s two cravings I need to beat down.
And it’s bad enough that I have those thoughts about Clem at all. Kind, innocent little Clem; my daughter’s best friend. Nearly half my age, and sweeter than sugar. I couldn’t pick a more inappropriate person to fixate on if I tried.
I shake my head, blending into the next piece without pause, fingers flying over the keys.
If I’m gonna give into my cravings tonight…
Better focus on that toffee.
* * *
They’re in the backyard when I get home around midnight, sitting at the picnic table Meg built us in her lumberjane phase. It’s rickety, but I love that thing. Truth be told, when they’re not here, I hardly ever sit at it.
It’s precious and I’m too heavy. Simple as that. But Meg gets all hurt and huffy when she sees me avoiding it, so over the summer breaks, I sit at the table pretty often.
“Ladies.” The side gate squeaks as I close it behind myself. Need to oil that. Both heads turn to face me, and Meg grins then goes back to the candle she’s lighting, but Clem keeps looking. Her red hair shines in the candlelight.
I pull in my stomach as I walk over. Well—as much as I can.
These two have wound string lights through the wall trellis, and the air smells like lavender and mint. The foliage spills thick from the garden beds, and branches criss-cross overhead, blocking out strips of stars. It’s like walking into Eden, especially since we evicted the big lizard from the pool. “Still awake, huh?”
Meg snorts, prodding her finger into the melting candle wax. She does that every time—my daughter can’t sit still to save her life. “Duh. We’re college students, Dad. We’re nocturnal. It’s the law of nature.”
Tell me about it. Some mornings when I’m up in this house around dawn, I feel like the only man left alive after the apocalypse.
“We wanted to hear about the gig,” Clem says, much quieter. “How did it go?”
“Pretty well.” The wood creaks as I settle on the bench opposite, and since Meg is only half-listening, too absorbed in making a mold of her thumbprint with melted wax, I direct my words to Clem. “It was a dinner cruise on a riverboat. Cocktail dresses and champagne toasts, you know? The swanky kind.”
Meg whistles, prodding at her wax thumb, and Clem’s eyes go round. “So clichéd,” my daughter declares, but I don’t think her friend agrees.
Something tells me Clem would love to have dinner on a riverboat. She’s fidgeting, so eager for details, like she could absorb all the excitement and romance of life secondhand.
You know… I could take her on a riverboat. I’dliketo.
Would that be out of line?
“We could go one night,” I say, as casually as I can manage. Meg raises an eyebrow at me, then goes back to scowling at her thumb. “There are more laid back dinner cruises—ones where you don’t have to dress up. Should I book for us?”
“Yes please,” Clem whispers, practically vibrating on her section of rickety bench. She’s gazing up at me like I’m her hero—like I just offered her the world on a platter. In the moonlight, her freckles are nearly invisible, scattered over her nose and cheeks like her own private constellation. My chest puffs out.
“No thanks,” Meg says, and my gut sinks. “You two go ahead, though.”
…Could we? Would Clementine want that?
“I’ll pay my half,” Clem says in her usual hushed tone. Like she doesn’t want to disturb anyone; like she doesn’t dare take up space in the world. Well, that settles it—and she’s definitely not paying.
“Okay, then.” My knuckles rap against wood. “I’ll book for us two. It’s a date.”
The words slip out unbidden, just a natural turn of phrase, but they hang in the air between us like flashing neon billboards. And it’s a warm summer night, but between one breath and the next, I’m clammy and cold.
Branches creak in the breeze. The pool water sucks on the tiled walls.
“Gross,” Meg says mildly, and I glance over quickly, but she’s still absorbed in her wax. Doesn’t actually look mad. “You two should get a room.”
