Page 65 of Twisted Needs

Relief immediately enters Luca’s voice. “Thanks.”

The gratitude makes me feel sick. This has always been Luca’s responsibility, but it feels like I’ve stolen it from him, and I fucking hate myself for it.

A few minutes later, after the conversation drifts back toward summer plans and screaming children and normal life, we finally hang up.

I sent a quick message to Anders.

Me

Will you be home tonight?

But when I see that he’s read it and I never get a text back, the reality of the situation comes crashing down and now I’m forced to deal with the repercussions.

CHAPTER 19

SAME OLD JENNY

PARKER

The first thing Jen says to me is, “Jesus Christ, Parker. You look terrible.” I huff out a laugh and step aside so she can walk in. Her fiery, red locks are pulled back into a messy bun that droops down the back of her head, so I know immediately that she’s had a day.

“Nice to see you too, darling”

“I’m only stopping by for a few minutes. I just needed a sign of life from you. And a clean place to change a diaper.” She breezes past me carrying a diaper bag the size of a hockey duffel while balancing a baby on her hip like she was born to do it. Molly’s got a fistful of red curls sticking straight up on one side of her head and a slobbery giraffe toy hanging from her mouth.

“Oh my God.” Jen takes one look around my kitchen and wrinkles her nose. “This place smells like man.”

“It is a man’s house.”

“It smells like weirdly expensive soap and emotional repression.”

“Well that’s just my natural scent.”

She snorts and slips off her shoes. Molly immediately reaches for me the second she notices I’m standing there. “Traitor,” Jen mutters to her daughter before shoving the baby into my arms. “Hold your niece while I rob you blind.”

“You come here for two minutes and already down a kid.”

“Her middle name doesn’t have to be Parker forever,” she threatens. “Though, I think Molly Parker Calhoun makes her sound like a little southern belle.”

I settle Molly against my chest automatically, bouncing her a little when she starts chewing aggressively on her toy again. Six months old and already violent. “You’re drooling all over my shirt, princess,” I murmur to her. “My nice, slobber-free shirt.”

“She gets that from her father,” Jen calls out from inside my fridge. “He drools all over my shirt too sometimes. Does it so I’ll take it off and flash my tits.”

“TMI,” I groan. “We may be best friends, but you’re still my ex-wife.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be gay now or something?” she snorts.

“I don’t label it,” I huff, gently placing my hand over the baby’s ear. “Pussy is pussy.”

“Okay,” she slams the fridge door shut. “Whatever happened to that muzzle I got you?”

She actually did get me a muzzle one year for Christmas.

“You took it with you in the divorce.”

“I’ll have Amazon deliver you a new one,” she mutters, sighing. “You have to let me talk about these kinds of things. I can’t tell anyone else about my sex life without them feeling bad for me. A girl needs her gay best friend, honey.”

“I like to say I’m hole-inclusive” I clarify, laughing.