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“You like her,” Janey said. “Dad …”
He said, “I could sneak around with her. Tell you we’re friends. But I’m not interested in lying, and I don’t see the point.”
“You’re not havingsexwith her,” she said, and when he didn’t answer, added, “Are you?”
He considered, but only for a moment. “Yeah. I am. That’s what happens when you like somebody a lot, and you’re going out.”
“But you’renotgoing out,” she said. “You never go anywhere without us. You don’t do dating at all, so I don’t see why you have to have sex with her.”
“We’re going to do dating,” he said. “She has ideas for babysitters, including somebody to replace Mrs. Hobarts. I haven’t managed to ask her about that yet, but I will.”
If he’d hoped that would distract her, it didn’t. “So you’re just going to dump us on babysitters now?” she asked. “And go out all the time, like Alexis’s mum? Alexis says that’s practically child neglect, because you’re letting your kids know they don’t matter as much to you as having randomsex.”
Beckett breathed. Then he said, “Go back over the edges there and feather them out. Like this.” He demonstrated. “So you don’t see any lines once you’ve painted. How often does Alexis’s mum go out?”
“FridayandSaturday nights sometimes—sometimes it’s with her girlfriends, but even then, they go to a bar.Alexis says that when they do that, they have drinks and dance with guys, and then her mum might haveanotherdate, which, if you ask me, is entirely too many dates for a mother.”
“That can happen,” Beckett felt he should point out, “before you meet the right one.”
Janey didn’t deign to answer that, just said, “And who knows what happens when Alexis is with her dad? It’s probably every night of the week then.”
“Or not,” Beckett said. “I expect she has a job. Once you’re not twenty-five anymore, going out drinking and dancing every night stops sounding so good.”
“Alexis doesn’t have to have a babysitter,” Janey said, ignoring that, “because there’s a neighbor she can ring up, andhermum doesn’t think staying home alone is unsafe when you’re nearly twelve, but still. She’salone.”
“Which I thought you wanted,” Beckett pointed out. “And she’s notthatalone. You stayed over at her house last Friday night, and her mum was home then.”
“Well, she’s alone heaps,” Janey said.
“So her mum goes out on dates once a week,” Beckett said, “and occasionally twice. Guess what? That’s normal.”
“No, it’s not,” Janey said. “You don’t leave your kids alone just so you—”
“Know how often your mum and I went out?” Beckett asked. “Once or twice a week. Every Saturday night, for one thing, because she said couples needed date nights so they remembered how. She was cleverer than me that way. We started before you were born. Don’t you remember Mrs. Frances?”
“Yes,” Janey said, “but she was nice, and it was our house, so we just had dinner and read a story and went to bed like usual.”
He looked at her.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re saying it’s the same.”
“Well, yeah. Or not exactly the same, because Quinn isn’t your mum.”
“Thankyou,” Janey muttered, and he had to smile. “But I still don’t get it about sex,” she added.
“I hate to tell you,” he said, “but Mum and I had sex, too.”
“Not all thetime,”she said. “Not like Alexis’s mum probably does.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“Oh.” She considered that. She also feathered her edges, he saw with satisfaction as he ran the knife delicately over a vertical seam. It might be an attic. That didn’t mean it had to be sloppy. Also, his pride was on the line.
“So how much do people have sex?” she finally asked.
“As much as they like,” he said. “Some people have it once a week. Or maybe only once a month, I’ve heard. And other people have it once a day. Or more.”
“More?”She stopped with the mud and stared at him. “How can you have it more?”
