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Seema smiled.
“I just—right now my mood is horrible.”
“Carter, Dillon coming out to you is a parenting win.” She advised me, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “He trusted you with that information—trusted you to not be like so many other parents out there who lose their absolute shit because their kid isn’t ‘normal’.”
“What the fuck does that word even mean in this case?”
“Precisely.” Seema bounced me playfully with her shoulder. “You’ve raised a son who, even though he was scared, could come to you with what’s sitting on his heart. Trust me—”
“Yeah.” I perked up a little. “That is a parenting win—you’re right.”
She nodded.
“Now what?”
“You’re asking me?” Seema seemed shocked. “I don’t have all the answers. But I’m sure when Dillon is ready, he can talk to Levi.”
“That might be a good idea.” I thought about it. “I know nothing about being gay or most of what comes with it. All I know to do right now, is love him.”
“Trust me.” Seema nodded. “That’s the best place to start.”
I leaned in to kiss her shoulder.
“Maybe I should talk with Levi first—ask some basic questions.” I suggested. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You’re a good dad, Carter Finch.”
I kissed her head.
“The boys are in bed, right?” She asked.
“Watching a movie—I think. Why?”
“Let’s go swimming.”
Seema set her beer on the step and took off running toward the pool.
But seeing Seema that way, partially naked with water floating down her skin left me giddy with arousal. We barely made it out of the pool before I was tearing off what was left of her clothes, with her in my arms trying desperately to make it back to the guesthouse.
She wrapped her legs around my hips as I tightened my arms around her, moving up the stairs and kissing her as if my life depended on it.
11
WASP
A ringing phone drew me from a very hot dream of Casper Finch and dropped me back into reality. I rolled over, pulled the sheet over my head with one hand and fumbled around on my bedside table with the other. When my hand finally hit my phone, my first instinct was to decline the call.
After all, it was a Saturday and I was free to sleep in.
But, even so, I answered it and grunted a greeting into the receiver.
“Wasp, it’s Tilda.”
“Tilda? I’m on leave.” I managed. “When that happens, work doesn’t exist.”
“I know.” She told me. “And I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. But Bryers is giving us a hard time about Marvin doing their haul. They only want you.”
“Did you tell them I was severely exhausted and might drive their haul into the lake?” I asked, very aware I was being overly dramatic. “Because that’s a very high possibility.”
