Page 49 of When the Smoke Clears

“Your mom. I think she left me for the baby’s real father.” His voice is weak.

“Dad, she’s—” Before I can say another word, Everleigh steps out of my bathroom, dripping water everywhere, towel around her naked body, hair lathered in shampoo.

Her eyes widen when they meet mine. I drop my gaze to her hand and my razor in it.

“Mom’s not pregnant. She had a hysterectomy,” I say to Dad.

“She didn’t have her breasts removed. They’re big as ever,” Dad says.

“My razor broke,” Everleigh whispers. “I’ll return yours when I’m done.”

When she tries to jump past me, I grab her wrist to stop her. “I didn’t say mastectomy, Dad. I said hysterectomy. She had her uterus removed. I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.” I end the call. “What the hell?”

“I’ll just shave below my knees and return it as soon as I’m done. No armpits. No pubic hair. Not that I have that much, but I have a little landing strip.” She wrinkles her nose.

I glance at the wet carpet beneath her feet.

“You’re supposedly a doctor. How can you not know that sharing a razor is not recommended? It’s like having unprotected sex.”

“Will, the risk of blood-borne pathogen transmission is much lower than unprotected sex. And my shower is running.” She twists her wrist to wriggle out of my hold. Then she prances on her tippy-toes to her bathroom and kicks the door behind her, but it doesn’t completely shut. So when she drops her towel to the floor, I see her naked backside through the inch opening that might as well be a foot.

I look away and grab a towel from my bathroom to dry the carpet, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I sneak another peek. The splattering of water on the glass shower door doesn’t totally obscure her breasts as she lifts her arm to shave her pit, which she said she wouldn’t do. As I step on the towel to soak up the water, my gaze lifts a fraction, and she’s staring at me.

“Shit,” I mumble, quickly picking up the wet towel and then tossing it onto my vanity before I fetch my wallet and jog down the stairs.

“Enjoy your class,” Liz says.

“Mm-hm,” I mumble a second before closing the door behind me.

I’ve been practicing tai chi for years. I’m not the youngest person in the class, but I’m close. My friends enjoy razzing me about it, but I’m too secure to give a shit what they think. It’s my favorite way of meditating and bringing everything back into balance.

Except this morning.

My moves are jerky and chaotic instead of gentle and controlled. Today we’re in the park instead of the studio. There are plenty of good distractions: the trees, the clouds, the breeze. Yet, every time I think of Everleigh’s naked body, I get an erection, so I hold my breath as if it’s a balloon that I can choose to stop inflating. After suffering through the hour of my day that’s supposed to be least stressful, I head home.

Thankfully, Everleigh and her mom are gone, so I make an omelet and toast and then mow the yard. Just as I’m blowing the grass off the sidewalk, the women return.

Liz gives me a quick glance and smile before continuing into the house, but Everleigh saunters toward me with a knowing smirk.

I turn off the blower and slide my safety glasses onto my head. “Did you find a place? Awesome. When are you moving out?”

“Funny. I told you I’m building a barndominium. But yes, I found ten acres with a pond for fishing, and I’m meeting with the Realtor on Monday to sign papers. If you don’t work this weekend, I’ll show it to you. The view is breathtaking.”

“Sounds great, but I do work this weekend, so I’ll just take your word for it. I’m happy for you.” I carry the blower to the garage and return it to its hook beside the Weed eater.

“Sorry I didn’t get the bathroom door completely shut this morning,” she says.

Jesus. She has no tact. Who says that shit? I know she knows. She knows I know. That’s where it ends. At least, that’s where it should end.

“I’d rather you be sorry that you lied to me about not using my razor to shave your pits.” Two can play this game.

“I’ll buy you a new razor.”

“No need. You’re leaving.”

She laughs. “Not until my barndo is finished.”

“You’re messy and invasive. I can’t have you stay until your barn is filled with hay and oats.”