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Summary
Patrick shows Tashi his zero nicotine vape. “I have been following your orders.” He points at Art. “Your husband’s the one who’s been smoking actual cigarettes and eating junk food all day.”
Or: Art retires.
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Bookmark Notes:
!!!
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Bookmark Notes:
Lily chatters on about her sleepover and how well-behaved Colleen’s dogs are as Art drives them to lunch—he doesn’t miss what she’s trying to do—and he must be quieter than usual, because she asks, “Are you okay, daddy?”
“Huh?” Art says, looking over at her guileless face before turning back to the road. “Of course I am, Lily pie,” he says. “Why?”
“You said you were okay being alone at home, but Lacey says her mom says sometimes people say they’re okay when they aren’t, and that we should ask after other people more often. So I’m asking after you.”
Art’s heart swells. He holds out his hand, and she takes it. “I’m okay, baby. But thank you for asking.” Her hand is so much bigger than it was when she was a kid; he feels strange that he’s only noticing it now. “It is a little quiet around the house, and I’m still getting used to it.”
“You miss mommy and Uncle Patrick,” Lily says.
“Of course I miss mommy and Uncle Patrick,” he says. “Mommy is my wife, and Uncle Patrick is my best friend.”
“I like Uncle Patrick,” Lily says, and Art immediately smiles. “He’s fun and makes fun of drivers who are stupid and knows all the fun swears.”
Art stops smiling. “Don’t learn from him,” he says at once, his voice stern. “And don’t call people names.”
A car cuts into his lane just as he says that.
“Motherf—” he stops himself just in time.
Lily giggles.
“Welcome back,” Art says, as Tashi gives him a lingering kiss by way of saying hello.
She tastes like breath mints with a sharp hint of coriander beneath. Lunch must’ve been Vietnamese or Thai, he thinks idly, palming her waist. “How was the flight?”
“Fine enough,” she says. “Your boy was recognised by enough people that he spent most of our time in the lounge signing autographs and taking pictures.”
Patrick barrels in after her. He is a hurricane of a person, a quality the years have not changed. His presence fills the room, and Art is suddenly, abruptly aware of how much he’s downplayed how silent and empty the house was with them gone.
“Arty!” Patrick shouts, spreading his arms and striding towards him.
Art grins as Patrick hugs him, lifting him up and twirling him around.
“It’s good to see you, too, champion,” he says, burying his nose in Patrick’s shoulder. They haven’t been able to talk him out of the Dior Sauvage, but as Tashi says, undoucheing is a long process with no guaranteed results. Besides, Art likes Patrick as he is, terrible cologne and all.
Patrick bites Art’s cheek, then sticks his tongue in his ear.
“Don’t damage the goods,” Tashi reminds them. “He has a GQ shoot tomorrow.”
“I won’t rough him up too bad,” Patrick says, his voice low and rough. He looks at Tashi as his hand slides down the back of Art’s sweats. “You coming?”