Page 32 of Playing the Backbeat

“Why can’t we see her face. Does she not know how to use the video feature?” Dylan whispers.

“Oh, she knows. She’s been hiding from pictures and videos my entire life. I have about three good pictures with her, and I intend to make it four at her birthday party. She’s turning ninety in two weeks. A week after my birthday. We used to have joint birthday parties. I’d bet you twenty bucks she still insists my name be included on her cake.” I realize I’m rambling. “But you don’t actually have to make the trip. I can come up with a solid reason why you can’t make it. Work, whatever, we’ll figure it out.”

“No, Dee. I said I’ll be there. Unless it’d make you uncomfortable, I’d like to go.”

I study him, not a trace of insincerity to be found. “Why would you do that?” I whisper, not sure what to make of him wanting to come with me to Cleveland to meet my family.

“I was invited.” Dylan shrugs. “And how could I not be curious about what kind of family spawned my greatest challenge? It’s a need-to-know kind of answer.”

I shove his shoulder and he rubs the spot with mock hurt.

“Poor baby,” I whine.

“Nana said you have to be nice to me,” he whines, before backing away into his room to join the conversation about when Emi will start her first band.

Jesus Christ, he’s going to milk that single comment forever. I will not be nice. I will be very mean. Yeah, I’ll be a huge asshole from now until he moves out.

But when I shuffle to his room and lean against the doorframe, I know I’m lying to myself. He patiently reminds Emi of the cadence he taught her last night, and she promptly shows it off to Morgan, Kai, and Nana.

Dylan doesn’t deserve for me to be mean. He doesn’t even annoy me anymore. Fuck, am I starting to actuallylikemy friend? My boss? My roommate? How fucking annoying.

Chapter fourteen

Dee

“Icome bearing gifts.” I push the tin of cookies into Ellie’s hands.

“Are these boobs?” she asks as I step through her front door, tossing my jacket onto the front hall bench and kicking my shoes off.

I peer inside the tin, worried for a moment the icing got messed up.

Nope. They’re still perfect.

“You bet, babe. Two plus years breastfeeding and your tatas finally got their freedom back? This is the kind of celebration that deserves boobie cookies. I’m calling them bookies. Appropriate for book club night, right?” I lean in, kissing her cheek. “Way to kick breastfeeding’s ass, El.”

“You make it sound like I won a fight.”

“Didn’t you?” Her smile is genuine as she presses the lid back into place before leading me into the kitchen to join the other girls. Everyone is gathered around the kitchen island. “Hello, smut sisters. Did you start without me?”

“Yes, because you’re”—Bec checks her watch—“thirty minutes late.”

“Sorry, couldn’t get the nipples quite right. Had to redo a few.”

Carissa nearly spits her drink onto the counter, but manages to choke it down before asking, “Did you say nipples?”

“Dee brought a gift,” Ellie says, unveiling the cookies to the group.

“To boobs,” I cheer, accepting the beer Bec hands me and hoisting it in the air. “Specifically, to Ellie’s boobs and all they’ve accomplished.”

“They can finally retire,” Ellie says with a laugh.

“Retire? Nah, I think it’s time for them to see the world. Take them to Rome. Take them to Greece. Take them everywhere they’ve ever dreamed of,” I insist.

“Beep-boop-beep. Daddy Robot signing off.”

I peer at the baby monitor on the counter. “Ellie. Why is there a robot in Luca’s room?”

“Oh.” She zooms in the camera on the device until we see Dominic doing the weakest robot arms I’ve ever seen. “Dom has to read the last book of the night as a robot or Luca won’t go to sleep. It’s what’s been working for the last four weeks, and when you find what works, you don’t change it. Before that, I had to sing the ABCs as a tigerthreetimes before he’d even consider allowing me to put his pajamas on.”