Page 73 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“Yes, Summer. I still do. People don’t stop loving someone just because they’re mad.”

“Okay.”

When the twins are asleep,Shane pours us both a glass of wine in the kitchen. Instead of letting Shane enter my dojo again, I tell him that we should probably try not to get each other all sexed-up for a while. Maybe wait until spring break, when the kids are with Margo, before doing filthy things to each other again. “It’s not that I don’t want to go all Cobra Kai on your Sammo Hung, but…I like it here. I don’t want to mess things up.”

I am so not the psycho nanny from that movie.

“I like you here too,” he says, clinking glasses with me. When we’ve both taken a sip of wine, he leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “I cannot fucking wait for spring break.”

TWENTY-ONE

SHANE

It’s spring break.

I didn’t go to college. I was homeschooled by on-set tutors from the age of fifteen. I’ve played horny teenage guys who go nuts trying to get laid in March or April, but I never really understood what the big deal was. I could have gotten laid whenever I wanted to when I was eighteen—I was the star of two different cable TV shows that year. You know who finally gets why spring break is such a big deal? My dad dick.

The sun is shining. The twins are in the back seat, and their little suitcases are in the trunk. Willa is in the passenger seat next to me, and our bags are packed too—for a two-night stay at a beautiful luxury ranch resort in Santa Barbara. And my dick is going to party like it’s 2009 because it hasn’t been inside Willa for almost three weeks.

She was right, though. It was a good idea to hit the brakes and fool around a lot less so we could focus on the kids. I got by on a well-timed handy or two, as per doctor’s advice, and returned the favor with a practical,level-headed cunnilingus session in the laundry room or three. She had more time to work on her fragrances. and I got a lot of reading done. Now we can head into the next five days without any guilt whatsoever and about a gallon of baby batter.

“Why can’t you and Willa stay at Mommy’s house too?” Lucky asks.

“Because we aren’t masochists,” I mutter to Willa.

“Your mom has been missing you so much, she wants you all to herself,” Willa says.

“But who’s going to be our nanny while we’re there?”

“Nobody,” I say. “Your mom’s going to be with you the whole time. She came back just so she can see you.”

“But is she going to have to go to bed in the afternoon?”

“That’s actually a really good question.” Willa turns to look at him. “Your mom will probably have something that’s called ‘jet lag,’ which means that even though it’s the same time for her here as it is for you, her body clock will think she’s still in Poland.”

“What’s a body clock?”

“Why can’t she just bloomin’ fix it so it works right, eh? Wouldn’t it be loverly?” Summer asks in a Cockney accent.

“You know what—I bet your mom would be better at answering that than we would,” Willa says, grinning at me.

Well, well. Sounds like Little Miss Post-Graduate Degree has learned a thing or two from the undereducated actor for a change.

“Oy say, cap’n—is Landon ’ere too? Oym a good gurl, I am!” Summer asks, again in her weird English accent.She looks out the window, at the mansions in the exclusive Riviera neighborhood that Margo and Landon live in. It’s only a ten-minute drive from my house, but the properties are twice as expensive and the streets have names like Amalfi and San Remo, and the residents have last names like Spielberg, Hanks, and Schwarzenegger.

Whatever. I’ll watch their movies, but I wouldn’t trade neighborhoods with these people if they paid me.

“Landon had to stay on set in Poland. They’re still shooting the movie. Your mom will have to go back to work on the weekend. Willa and I will pick you up Saturday morning.”

I turn onto the long slate-paved driveway and watch Willa’s face as I park. She looks as unimpressed by this estate as I am, bless her heart. She helps Summer out of her car seat while I get Lucky, but as soon as the front door opens and they see Margo, they go running to her. Willa looks a little surprised by how happy they are to see their mom, and maybe a tiny bit jealous too. I feel that way every time I drop them off. But I’ll get over it faster than I usually do, because—spring break.

Willa gets her purse from the front seat and waits for me to get Summer and Lucky’s bags and walk with her up the path to the house. I touch the small of her back because I know what it does to her. Her breath catches and I feel her shiver every time. We don’t hold hands in front of the kids because we haven’t had a talk with them yet, but I told Margo that I’m taking Willa up the coast. She doesn’t like surprises, and I trust that she isn’t going to create some sort of emergency to fuck up our plans, because she hasn’t seen the twins in so long.

“Go to the kitchen, my darlings—there are snackswaiting for you,” Margo says to the kids. “Wash your hands first! With soap!” Her hair is blonder than it was before she left, and she’s wearing one of her $250 tank tops with a pair of wide-leg pants that have a ridiculously large bow at the waist. Perhaps she was expecting us to come with a camera crew. Or maybe she’s trying to look more glamorous than my gorgeous nanny. Either way, her toothy smile seems genuine as she holds her arms out to welcome Willa with a hug. “So good to finally meet you in person! You’re even prettier than you were on Skype.”

“Oh, thank you,” Willa says. “So are you.”

“Oh my God, no. I’m exhausted and dehydrated from the flight. Hey, you,” she says as she gives me a friendly hug and pat on the back. “Do you have time to come in?”