Page 201 of You've Got Hate Mail
He grins broader. “Too easy, man. Too easy.”
I straighten and lean over the railing. “Hey, Cricket?”
She beams at me. “Yes?”
“Ten wants to drink another couple bottles of wine. Can you run over?—”
He shoves me, I lose my balance, and suddenly I’m sprawled on the deck, laughing my ass off.
“You should stop by more often,” I tell Ten.
“Everything okay up there?” Cricket calls.
“Feeling left out,” I reply. “I’m making bad decisions.”
“The fun kind?”
“Yep.”
“Can I make bad decisions, Daddy?” Lav asks.
Oh, my baby girl, no. No, you cannot make bad decisions. “As long as you learn from them and don’t hurt anyone with them.”
Including—hell.
Including the cat, who’s stuck in her cat door, glaring at me.
Still with a little sparkle on her face that you can only see now when the sun hits her just right.
Fuck.
Thisisthe life.
Chaos and unpredictability and imagination and giving friends shit and knowing that in another couple hours, I’ll be sneaking downstairs for grown-up time with Cricket?
Yeah.
It’s the life.
The best life.
“Mabel’s not the problem,” I tell Ten as I straighten myself and get back into my chair. “Mabel goes out of her way to take care of everyone else. You want to make up with her, figure out how to take care ofher. Not how you can get her to take care of you too.”
“Pass,” he mutters.
I don’t know Ten super well, but I know him well enough.
And I have a feeling he’s listening.
That he’ll ponder.
That he’ll decide if he wants to be more friendly with his sister’s best friend, or if he wants to keep doing what’s easier.
Don’t know him well enough to know which way he’ll go, but I do believe he’s listening.
“Red wine or white wine, Ten?” Cricket calls up.
“Tequila,” he replies.
