Friday 5 July 2019

This what happens when you ask France for help.

July 4th turned out to be a fun day. Rain threatened the whole time but never made good. We grilled hotdogs and hamburgers by the pool, washing them down with strawberry shortcake and wine and then when it finally got dark we lit sparklers on the patio and drew designs on the night, hearts and letters and happy faces too, toasting a country that made damn near a quarter of my boys only to spit them right out onto my doorstep where they quickly diluted their blood with maple syrup to fit in (it worked) and left their stars and stripes behind forever.

But we still try to mark Independence Day, though probably a little more quietly than most. Even Caleb joined in, arriving with a few bottles of what he thought would be a nice wine for the occasion. His bottles each cost more than the insurance on my Jeep, which is a lot. And he said he didn't go out yesterday which was extra-neat as I mentally tried to figure out where he keeps his magical millionaire wine cellar, because his suite of rooms doesn't have that feature and he has storage space but I never imagined he'd eschew an actual wardrobe with space for high-end clothes for a few cases of wine but the surprise is all mine, and the wine was very good indeed.

But now every time I go past his door I'm going to wonder if he steps to the shelf, pulls a book out only to have the entire floor open up, a staircase to a whole hidden underground lair, fully stocked with wine, cars and jets.

This would not surprise me in the least, frankly. I tell him this, drunk on his wine, drunk on sparks and contentment and he laughs gently and tells me it could be done.

Not here. 

Anything can be done for the right price. 

Oh fuck. Is this going to be one of those half-threats, half-promises that you'll somehow buy out Lochlan's share and have me all to yourself?

No. He is so amused his whole face flushes as he laughs. I meant we can extend the basement by digging an addition into the foundation. It can be done, and then we would have further rooms for a wine cellar or storage, or what have you. 

So stung it's downright embarrassing. I am rarely embarrassed easily but also far more drunk than I thought. I look away so he can't see my own flush of pink.

Caleb leans against me, pulling me in close. I could buy you if I wanted to, but this is all far more entertaining. He kisses the side of my head before letting go and taking my glass to refill.

Secretly I decide I'm celebrating independence from my former family today, that of Cole, and of Caleb too. Except the battle isn't finished yet, and I don't know who's won.