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“Molly,” I say to her, my breathing ragged, “do you have a computer?”
“Yep.”
My eyes close in mortification. “What kind?”
“A Chromebook. They give it to us at school.”
My heart settles a touch even though it’s still racing a bazillion miles a minute. I clear my throat and try to act totally normal and not like some sort of perv who sends boob pics around the house.
“And Jesse?”
“Yeah, he has one.”
“What kind?” The anticipation is going to burn a hole in my stomach.
“One of those gaming computers.”
“A MacBook?”
“No. Dad has one of those.”
My shoulders heave forward as a wave of relief pours over me. The kids don’t have my picture. I must have sent it to Rob. He’s the only other person in the house. This is so much better than sending it to the kids, but horrible nonetheless. I need to talk to him and explain the very clear misunderstanding that is me AirDropping a picture of my boobs to him.
It’s possible he hasn’t opened his laptop. If that’s the case, I can swoop in and erase the photo, and all will be right in the world.
“Where might your father’s laptop be right now?” I ask Molly, praying she says it’s somewhere down here.
“It’s in his room. He’s on it right now.” She takes a bite of her cookie and then waves. “Night!”
I give her a wave back and go into my room, falling against the wall behind me, totally shattered that I made such a colossal mistake.
Or did I?
CHAPTERTWELVE
“Morning! Would you like some cantaloupe?” I offer Rob the next morning, holding up the uncut round fruit for his breakfast before he heads to the jobsite.
He strolls into the kitchen and stops at the kitchen island, looking at my offering to him.
“I have watermelon, oranges, tomatoes, raisins. Produce comes in various shapes and sizes. What size do you prefer?”
“We need to talk.”
Because the kids aren’t downstairs yet, I decide to broach the subject out in the open.
“If it’s about the fact that I accidentally sent you a photo of my boobs last night, please know that was misunderstanding. You saw my boobs. It’s okay. No big deal. They’re just breasts. Fine, they’re full, attractive, voluptuous breasts that I happen to be very proud of. The fact that I AirDropped them to you was completely unintentional.”
His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, his thick forearms prominent as he aims his body toward me. “If you didn’t mean to send it to me, who were you sending it to?”
“Myself,” I answer easily, yet I’m unable to look him in the eye. “I understand this is awkward. I’ve been in your shoes. Worse actually. I’ve received unsolicited penis pics before, and it was a gross violation of my privacy and tender eyes that did not need to see half the things I’d seen. Word to the wise: if you’re gonna send one, always hold the camera at a low angle, facing up. It makes it look bigger. Regardless, I meant to send the photo to myself as a little souvenir of sorts, and I hit the wrong button. Thankfully, it didn’t go to the kids because that would have been tragic. You and I are adults though, and I’m sure we can handle this situation as such.”
“Is that why you went from wearing a very revealing top yesterday to sporting a sweater today?”
“The weatherman called for a cold front.”
“It’s eighty degrees.”
“Your house is old and drafty.”
