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  I guide his mouth back to mine and kiss him passionately, thrusting my tongue through his lips, feeling the velvety slick surface of his tongue while he simultaneously traces the outlines of my aureoles with his fingertips. I reach around him and lay my hands on his ass, grip him, and tug him against me. A low guttural sound rises from his throat as we start to move together, both our lower halves still encased in fabric. I haven’t dry humped a guy since high school, but if memory serves, it did not feel quite like this.

  My whole body is thrumming, my every nerve ending tense with anticipation. My mind is a blessed blank, and I realize that this is exactly what I wanted, to be swept away, to not think for a few short moments, to forget about my mother and my painfully anemic life and all the wrong turns I’ve taken based on a mistaken assumption. I want to lose myself and Matt is providing the perfect place in which to get lost.

  “You feel so good,” I whisper, because it’s true, he does. He feels more than good, he feels right, but I won’t let myself go there, won’t allow that thought to take hold because then I’d be thinking again, and I don’t want to think at all. I stroke his back, grazing his skin with my nails. He answers me by lightly licking my earlobe, sending me into a frenzy.

  He grabs me by the waist and lifts me onto the edge of the washing machine. I let go of his ass and yank at the front of his jeans, unzip his fly, then slide my hand beneath his boxer briefs. His penis is smooth and hard and as I wrap my fingers around the head of it, I detect a droplet of moisture squeeze from the tip.

  “Oh, God, Meg.”

  Matt is more successful with my slacks than he was with the blouse, hurriedly unbuttoning them and tugging them down my legs until they fall to the floor. He pulls off my panties and the cold metal of the washer gives me a shock, but when Matt palms my inner thighs and slides his hands toward my pubic hair, every inch of me feels like it’s on fire. His thumbs meet in the middle, caressing my most sensitive place, and I start to shake with intensity, as though the washer is running at high agitation. Again, I grab his ass, now naked, and pull him to me.

  The tip of his penis is touching my yearning core, but just before he enters me, he freezes.

  “Wait.” His voice is low and his breathing labored. His erection twitches.

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  “I don’t either, obviously.” He chuckles, but his face remains serious. “I just, uh…”

  I try to reel him in with my hands, but he doesn’t relent. “Matt, seriously. I want you inside me. Right now.”

  “I know, Meg. I want you too. But I…I can’t…”

  “Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to go to the couch? To your bed? Where? Just tell me, and let’s go.”

  He sighs and leans back, but doesn’t break eye contact. The intensity of his gaze unnerves me. “I like you, Meg. I’m not sure exactly why, but I do. A lot.”

  His declaration unleashes a herd of butterflies in my stomach. I can’t remember the last time someone has expressed this kind of emotion to me, for me. It feels good and terrifying and it’s the last thing I thought I wanted. I work to keep my mood ambivalent.

  “I don’t want to start in the middle with you,” he says. “You’re the first…shit…” He runs his hand through his hair roughly. “Look, I haven’t felt this kind of connection with anyone since my fiancé. I want to start at the beginning with you.”

  “You sound like a woman,” I snipe, sounding bitchy and hating myself for it.

  “I’m not a woman,” he says.

  “Obviously.”

  “But I would like to take you out on a date, get to know you a little before I fuck your brains out.” He traces a fingertip down my cheek and I have to clench my teeth to keep from shivering. “Seriously,” he says. “Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. I know you’re off duty, I asked your brother.”

  “Matt, this is just sex, you know? We’re not going to start dating. I live three thousand miles away. I’m going to be gone in a few days. Can’t we just…just…do it and enjoy it and forget about it?”

  He laughs harshly and shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I’ve never said this to anyone before, but, no. We can’t. I’m kind of past the point of just having sex. I know it sounds stupid, but it means more to me now. And based on our connection here, I don’t think I’d forget about it. Do you?”

  I have no answer for him, none that would bring back the heat of the moment. It’s gone. We both know it. Plus, he’s right. There is a connection between us, that weird sense of knowing someone, even though you’ve only just met. I felt it before, the night we hung out and sang together, but I pushed it away. Now, after having had his arms around me and his dick in my hand and his tongue in my mouth, I can’t deny it. Not to myself. But I sure as hell can deny it to him.

  “It’s just sex,” I repeat. “I’ve forgotten most of the sex I’ve had in my life. Why should sex with you be any different?”

  He sighs and nods. “Right. I’ll just go get you that shirt.”

  He pulls away and tugs up his briefs and his jeans, leaving me naked on the washing machine and suddenly very cold.

  * * *

  “You okay, Meggly?” Buddy asks me as I walk him to the steps of his condo.

  “Sure, Buddy,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

  He lumbers up the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail, then roots around his pocket for his keys. As I reach the top step, he turns to me and smiles.

  “It’s good to see you, Meg. I know your life is in New York, but I sure do wish you lived closer. I ain’t getting any younger, despite what Bettina says about my youthful prowess in the sack.”

  “Dad, please,” I say on a groan.

  His eyes twinkle. “You know, I like it when you call me ‘Dad.’”

  “Then I’ll try to do it more often.”

  “I’m gonna see you before you go back, right?”

  I nod. “Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I give him a kiss on the cheek and he pulls me in for one of his hugs. When he releases me, he gives me a sober look.

  “I think it’s terrific what you’re doing for your brother, Meg. I don’t know what he and Caroline would have done without you.”

  “It’s no big deal, Dad. And I’m not very good at it.”

  “Baloney. You’re aces. And the most important thing is that you’re here.”

  He steps inside the condo, but before he closes the door he flashes me a toothy grin.

  “By the by, how’d that stain come out?”

  “Goodnight, Buddy. Dad.”

  He winks, then shuts the door. I wait until I hear him engage his deadbolt, then I slowly descend the stairs and head down the concrete path to the guest parking spaces. Just as I reach the Camaro, my cell phone rings. Without checking the caller ID, I answer.

  “Meg Monroe.”

  “Meg. When are you coming home, baby? I miss you so much.” Adam. Or should I say, inebriated Adam.

  “You didn’t miss me the other night when you were with the naked hot ass.”

  “Don’t be like that,” he says, a trace of adolescent pique in his voice. “You know you’re my number one, Meg-a-licious. No one does that thing you do to me, no one. When will you be back in the Big Apple so you can do that thing to big old me?”

  I know what he’s talking about and it involves oral, and just the thought of me doing that to him—especially after my ten minutes with Matt—makes me nauseous. I lean against the driver’s door of the Camaro and take a deep breath.

  “What’s my middle name?”

  “Come again?” he asks.

  “My middle name, Adam. What is it?”

  Silence on the line. I count to ten. “Uh, babe. I, uh, don’t have a clue.”

  “Wrong answer.” I hang up and pocket my cell phone, then climb into the Camaro. I start the engine and rev it a few times, but instead of shifting into reverse, I rest my head against the steering wheel and cry.

  Twenty-two

&n
bsp; Meg: Nobody owes anybody anything. The only person you owe anything to is yourself. As long as you’re not intentionally causing other people harm, your karma’s secure.

  Barry: I don’t know if I agree with that. Karma’s a tricky thing. Your deep-rooted intentions are what matter, the positivity of your actions, the underlying emotions surrounding all of your conscious choices.

  Meg: Please, Barry, don’t go all Shakti Gawain on me.

  * * *

  “You lying piece of shit,” I spit into the phone. It’s Saturday morning, 6:30 my time, 9:30 Eastern Standard.

  I am desperate to hold on to my sanity and avoid another meltdown like the one I had last month. The only way I know how to keep it together is to lash out at someone else. Thankfully, Damien is an appropriate target.

  “You cocksucking, traitorous son-of-a-bitching douchebag mother fucker!”

  “So it’s going to be that kind of conversation, is it?” He sounds more amused than offended, and this makes me even angrier.

  “You pushed me into coming out here, Damien. Now I know why! How could you stab me in the back like this?”

  “Look, dearest, I didn’t do anything to you that you wouldn’t have done to someone else. I’m bloody tired of fetching coffee and bagels and dry cleaning and kowtowing to all of you stupid bloody hosts. I have to think about my own future.”

  “Getting rid of me is going to help your future?”

  “It already has. My new allegiance to the Humpinator has paid off. I played my Style and Entertainment reels for him and what can I say? He was impressed.”

  “The Barry and Meg Show doesn’t need you for any style and freaking entertainment segments. I do those.”

  “Oh, sorry. Not the Barry and Meg Show. The Barry and Damien Show.”

  “Over my dead body,” I hiss.

  “Yes, well, we’re having a trial run on Monday. Did Gordo not tell you when you spoke with him yesterday? Hhhm. I’m not surprised. He was reluctant at first, but I understand that after speaking with Eileen Buchanan, and hearing from her own mouth how enthusiastic you were about meeting with KTOC, he rather changed his tune.”

  “You know this won’t work, right? All I have to do is show up on Monday and your whole little scheme will be shot to hell.”

  “But you won’t be here, Meg. You’ll be out there, in LaLa Land, changing nappies and wiping spit-up off your shirt. I know when your return flight is, dearest. I still get your work emails, you know.”

  My head starts to throb and I press a fingertip against my right temple. “I just can’t believe you did this to me, Damien. I thought we were friends. More than friends. I thought we were compatriots. Family.”

  “Knowing how you feel about your real family, Meg darling, I’m quite insulted by that remark.”

  “I like them a hell of a lot better than I like you, Damien.”

  “See that? I have done something wonderful for you, haven’t I? I’ve made your family seem much more tolerable. You should thank me. Say it, Meg. ‘Thank you, Damien.’”

  “Fuck you, Damien. This is not over.”

  I disconnect, then bring up the internet on the Samsung and revisit the Google search for nannies I did last week. I scan the first page of hits, click on one that looks good, and spend a few minutes perusing the website. I tap the phone number in the upper right hand corner of the screen and wait for the call to connect. Because of the early hour, I’m not surprised when I get a voicemail. I leave a message, then hang up and scroll through my phone log. I find the outgoing call I made to the airline three days ago and press the send button. After sifting through the automated menu, I finally get a real person’s voice on the line.

  “Hi. My name is Meg Monroe. I have a flight scheduled for Wednesday. I want to find out how much it’ll cost me to change it to tomorrow.”

  * * *

  When I walk into the kitchen twenty minutes later, I find Danny, McKenna, Cera and Tebow seated at the table eating breakfast.

  “Geez, guys, it’s Saturday. Don’t you sleep in on the weekends?”

  Danny smiles weakly at me. “My kids never sleep in.”

  “I do,” Cera says. “Those two woke me up.” She jerks a thumb at her half siblings, but I can tell she isn’t really mad.

  “Can you help me pick out my outfit today, Auntie Meg?” McKenna asks.

  I march over to her and bend down so that we are eye to eye. “You bet. How’s that chin feeling?”

  “It kinda hurts a little, but Daddy says I can take some medicine after breakfast and it’ll feel better.”

  “Your daddy’s a smart guy.”

  “We’re going to Univiral Studios today!” she announces joyfully.

  “Universal Studios,” Cera clarifies.

  “Right,” says McKenna. “That’s what I said.” Cera suppresses an eye roll and keeps her mouth shut.

  I’m surprised by these plans. “Seriously? When did this happen?”

  “Cera asked if we could go,” Danny explains. He gives me a serious look, but tries to keep his tone light. “Her dad called this morning and it looks like she’ll be heading home on Tuesday, so she can be with him and her step-mom for Thanksgiving. I asked her what she’d like to do, given that I chose the aquarium and the Queen Mary.”

  “That totally did not suck like I thought it would,” Cera says.

  “She said ‘suck,’ Daddy.”

  “McKenna!” Danny cries, exasperated.

  “I’ve never been to Universal Studios,” Cera says. “Disneyland’s okay, but I’ve been there like three times. I want to see the big mechanical shark and King Kong. They’re supposed to be awesome.”

  “Since her birthday’s tomorrow, I thought it would be fun.”

  “Will McKenna be okay?” I ask, concerned for my niece. “You won’t take her on any bumpy rides or anything.” Danny looks over at me, a smile playing on his lips. “What?”

  “You sound just like a mom,” he says, and I have to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it mellow for her.”

  “Do you want to come with us?” Cera asks.

  “You know what? I’d like to. Honest. But I’ve got some really important stuff I need to get done.”

  She seems disappointed, but nods with understanding.

  “Oooh, Daddy,” McKenna cries, waving her hand in front of her face. “Tebow made a big stinky!”

  Danny starts to rise, but I put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. I’ll get it.”

  “Really?”

  “Just make me a cup of coffee, will you?”

  “Definitely,” he replies, his gratitude evident.

  I unstrap Tebow and pull him out of his seat, and the smell from his diaper immediately makes my eyes water. “Oh shi—shoot. That’s some big stink you’ve got in there, bubba.”

  “Anny Mae!” he exclaims.

  “Right. Auntie Meg. And you’re lucky, because I still love you no matter what you’ve got in that diaper.”

  He giggles. Keeping him at arm’s length, I move toward the dining room. When I reach the archway I stop.

  “Um, Danny, I have to talk to you when I’m done with Tebow’s diaper, okay?”

  * * *

  “Tomorrow?” Danny stands in the doorway of the guest room, watching as I carefully fold the pieces of my new wardrobe and pile them on the bed. My luggage never did show up, but I filed a claim with the airline while I was changing my flight so I should see a check from them in the next thousand years.

  “But why? I thought you were staying until Wednesday.”

  “Because my assistant, Damien, is trying to steal my show, and if I’m not at the station first thing Monday, he’s going to get it!”

  My brother crosses his arms and gives me one of his best disappointed looks. “What about the kids? You know I work right up until Thanksgiving.”

  “I called an agency this morning. They weren’t open yet, but I’ll follow up with them after nine. They sound really good, Danny. All o
f their nannies are licensed and bonded and insured and background checked, or whatever. And according to the website, they’re mostly Swedish or Norwegian which will be fun for you too.”

  “I told you I can’t afford a professional nanny,” he says and I hold my hand up, palm out.

  “I’m going to pay for it. Okay? It’s the least I can do. I promised you I’d cover the kids till Thanksgiving, and I’m going to.”

  My brother is quiet for a moment then he shakes his head slowly. “The kids trust you, Meg.”

  “And I’m sure they’ll trust Olga or Helga or whichever Nordic beauty shows up at your door.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I thought you would’ve understood that by now.”

  “Jesus, Danny, give me a break. They’re kids. Okay? I mean, as kids go, they’re all right I guess, if you like short people who have trouble stringing together sentences.”

  I want to slap a hand over my mouth to stop the words from flowing, but I can’t seem to do it. I’m completely betraying my niece and nephew and Cera, and I’m doing it willfully, purposely, pretending that they haven’t gotten under my skin, which they have, or that I haven’t come to care deeply for all of them, which I definitely have. But those truths only make it worse, only propel me to flee faster to the safety and comfort of my isolated life.

  “They’ll get over it, Danny. You said it yourself, kids are resilient. By the time I land in New York, they’ll have forgotten all about me.”

  “I understand,” he says. “I mean, I know how important your career is to you. A hell of a lot more important than your family.”

  “Come on, seriously? I’m supposed to throw away everything I’ve worked for because of a couple of snot-nosed, annoying cretins I’ve known for all of five minutes?”

  “Daddy?”

  McKenna has sidled up next to Danny. She gazes at me, her eyes very round.

  “What’s a cretin?” she asks.

  “Nothing, baby,” Danny tells her. “Auntie Meg was talking about something silly, that’s all. You go get dressed, okay?”