by Pippa Grant
She loved my dad with everything she had, and he left.
She wasn’t enough. Her love wasn’t enough.
He got tired of her, and he left.
If I let myself love Tyler with everything I have, and he leaves, I know exactly what my future will look like.
It’ll look like my mom.
“Muffy. Talk to him.”
“I can’t. Kami, I told him why I left Blackwell. But I can’t tell him this.”
Her brows hit her hairline, and hurt flashes in her eyes.
Dammit.
This is exactly why I can’t have a relationship. Even when I’m not trying, I hurt the people I love. I grip her hands tighter and lean across the table. “He fainted at the funeral home. And I felt so bad. And then he told me some personal stuff, and I’d been drinking, and—”
“It’s okay.” She squeezes my hands, back to being calm, rational, kind Kami who would let anyone walk all over her.
Except she doesn’t do that anymore.
Not since she put her foot down with Nick a year ago.
“I’m terrified he’ll hurt me like my dad hurt my mom,” I whisper.
She smiles at me, and it’s like being wrapped in a hug. She’s not smiling because she’s happy. She’s smiling because she’s saying it’s okay, Muffy. You’ll be okay. “My mom told me once that your parents got married because your mom fell so in love with your dad at first sight that she hid all of her quirks and made herself into the woman she thought he wanted her to be. She didn’t think anyone would love her if she was herself, and after a while, she convinced herself that your dad knew who she really was deep down and loved her anyway, even though he had no clue. You don’t hide who you are. At least, I don’t think you do. Do you?”
I laugh, but it comes out more like a hiccup. “Believe me, if I were hiding who I am, I’d find a much more attractive package.”
“You’re not your mom, Muffy. And I don’t know what Tyler’s hang-ups are about relationships, but I know he’s not your dad. He likes you because of your quirks. He likes you because you don’t fit a mold. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel. And if he doesn’t feel the same, you have something else your mom never had to help you get through it.”
“What?” I know the answer. I have her. But I want to hear her say it.
“You have Nick. He’ll make Tyler’s life hell until he’s begging for a trade and you never have to see him again.”
I snort with surprised laughter.
But I know she’s right.
I have her. And she has Nick, so by extension, I have Nick.
I also have my clients and friends. If things go south with Tyler, I’ll be okay.
I will be okay.
She’s right. I should talk to him.
Soon.
Maybe next week, if he hasn’t kicked Rufus and me out yet.
“Thank you.”
She leans across the table and hugs me, squishing the fish between us. “You’re welcome. Now, can we get out of here? My boobs are about to explode. I need to pump.”
34
From the texts of Tyler and Muffy
Tyler: If you get any messages from numbers you don’t recognize, ignore them. Ignore them all.
Muffy: Why? Did you leak my number to some lonely hockey player online group that passes around good numbers for phone sex?
Tyler: In case you’re unaware, it’s highly uncomfortable to sit on an airplane when you have a boner the size of Mount St. Helens, and you talking about phone sex is definitely giving me a boner the size of a mountain.
Muffy: I legit always wondered if penises were actually annoying. And now I know. Thank you. Also, I hope you can breathe with that many tons of dirt and rock in your crotch.
Tyler: This is where you tell me you’d lick me until I blew like a volcano if we were together.
Muffy: Would you actually jerk yourself off on an airplane surrounded by your teammates?
Tyler: This is why airplanes have bathrooms.
Muffy: OMG. *mind blown emoji* Do guys really do that? Do they really go into the bathroom mid-flight to jack off? I am never using an airplane bathroom again. Ew. Ew ew ew!
Tyler: What if we flew to Australia?
Muffy: Depends.
Tyler: On what?
Muffy: Not IT DEPENDS. I would WEAR DEPENDS.
Tyler: Sexy.
Muffy: I should not be turned on by you being turned on at the thought of me in adult diapers.
Tyler: Fuck. And I was just getting comfortable and not worried I’d make Klein self-conscious if he happens to notice I get bigger boners than he does.
Muffy: You are such a guy. And have you ever actually seen Klein have an erection? Do you know for sure yours is bigger?
Tyler: I forbid you from thinking about Klein raising his flagpole.
Muffy: *laughing emoji*
Tyler: But you’re welcome to think of my joystick as much as you want. Actually, if you wanted to think about it now and tell me you’re naked in my bed and pretending I’m with you, I’d be down for that.
Muffy: Oh! I got three texts from unknown numbers. They’re claiming to be your sisters. OMG! You gave your sisters my number?
Tyler: Ignore those. They’re not actually my sisters. Nick’s passing your number around the team and everyone’s trying to get you to tell stories about me.
Muffy: The one claiming to be Allie has a picture of you with your finger up your nose when you were thirteen. *picture of Tyler dressed for hockey practice with his finger up his nose*
Tyler: That’s really Rooster.
Muffy: No, that’s definitely your brother in the background. OMG! The one who says she’s Keely sent me a screenshot of a group text with you and your family where your dad said something about getting high and moving in with a family of otters?
Tyler: Heh. Yeah. I taught Staci how to change autocorrect functions in Dad’s phone, and so she sneaks over there and replaces his favorite phrases with weird shit all the time. No one suspects her because she refuses to participate in group text messages.
Tyler: DO NOT SCREENSHOT THAT CONFESSION.
Tyler: Not that it matters. It’s not really my sisters. It’s Lavoie and Rooster and Ares.
Tyler: Muffy? Fuck. Where’d you go?
Muffy: Sorry. Daisy group video-chatted us all because your sisters knew you’d be denying it was actually them. OMG! They’re so funny! And nice. And I can see how growing up with that much energy would scar you for life. It’s like two and a half times as much energy as my mom, and she drove me crazy on a regular basis.
Tyler: Ice water has officially rained down on Mount St. Helens and it will never erupt again.
Muffy: Britney and Daisy both put some of their cats on to talk, and Rufus freaked out at all the meowing. But don’t worry. I’ll replace your fruit bowl before you get home. Oh! Did I tell you that one of my clients had a very successful first date this morning? I’m so excited for her. She’s… well, she’s a lot like me. *blushing emoji* *flower bud emoji*
Tyler: That’s awesome. High five, magic matchmaker.
Muffy: It’s only a first date, but they set up a second before it was over, so I’m cautiously optimistic.
Tyler: We should celebrate when I get back. Naked. With those dice that Rufus dumped out of your bag.
Muffy: OMG! I didn’t know you saw those.
Tyler: Got distracted when he tried to climb the curtains.
Muffy: Those are on my list to replace too.
Tyler: Quit offering to replace things. Have I mentioned I have four sisters and I’m the baby? I didn’t pick or buy anything currently decorating my place. I didn’t even pick the condo. It was the default option when my sisters nixed the other options for whatever their reasons were.
Muffy: What about the TV?
Tyler: Okay, that wasn’t my sisters. That was West. He was researching his own new television when he got out of the military, found one he liked, then moved in with Daisy and redirect
ed his TV here to me since he knew mine didn’t survive my move to Copper Valley and I’d been going without, whereas he had moved in with a billionaire.
Muffy: That’s…wow.
Tyler: I *am* fully capable of picking things for myself. But a wise man once told me it’s sometimes best not to fight it.
Muffy: Your dad?
Tyler: West, actually. He heard it from Dad first, before Dad was worn down by raising four girls.
Muffy: You’re ridiculous, yet sexy and adorable at the same time. That bag Rufus emptied? It’s actually my Muff Matchers new client kit. In addition to the sex dice, there are fuzzy handcuffs, a pack of cards with unique date ideas and conversation starters, eye masks, a romantic candle, lip balm, breath mints, hand sanitizer, an umbrella, and a vibrator.
Tyler: Fuck me, now I’m picturing you using a vibrator.
Muffy: I’m mildly surprised you didn’t empty the drawer in my nightstand when you cleaned out my room to move me in with you. It’s not like you have anything to be self-conscious about. You’re definitely better than my favorite dildo.
Tyler: I’m sweating.
Muffy: So. You, me, dice, handcuffs, dildos, and vibrators? Saturday night is sounding better than I thought it would when you proposed date night on our way back from Richmond.
Tyler: Klein just asked me if I’m having a heart attack. I had to put a book over my boner. Talk to me about the umbrella. Why do you have an umbrella in your new client kit?
Muffy: It’s the most phallic-shaped thing I could think of. I wanted to put in dildos but that seemed too far, even for me.
Tyler: Fuck me, you do NOT want to know the things I’m thinking right now…
Muffy: *chest selfie* Question: is this called a chelfie? Or a brelfie?
Tyler: Take the shirt off and snap another chelfie. The plane might be going down. I need to die with the image of your breasts as the last thing I see.
Muffy: Is the plane really going down?
Tyler: If I say yes, do I get a full nude?
Muffy: You, Tyler Jaeger, are a hornball.
Tyler: Only around you.
Muffy: *naked chelfie*
Tyler: God, I love your tits. You have the most gorgeous nipples.
Muffy: You remember last week, you walked into Cod Pieces and looked down your own pants?
Tyler: Yes.
Muffy: I would very much like to look down your pants right now. But I don’t think I’d stop at looking. I’d want to touch you too. And stroke you. And then lick you. And suck on you.
Tyler: *gif of a man sweating profusely*
Muffy: *gif of a woman biting into a strawberry and closing her eyes in ecstasy*
Tyler: Strawberries. Fridge.
Muffy: *selfie of her biting into a strawberry with her bare breasts showing*
Tyler: Fuck. We’re landing in twenty. I’ll call you. If I survive that long. Gotta go before I come in my pants. *kissy emoji*
35
Muffy
It’s Saturday morning, and Tyler’s due home from his road trip any minute.
So where am I?
Back at the café next to the stuffed animal store, having a morning Muff Matchers client support group meeting.
And my mother has joined us.
“I always put out on the first date,” she’s telling Brianna. “That way, you know if he’s worth having another date with. Go big or go home.”
“And that works for you,” I point out, “but everyone is entitled to do what they are comfortable with.”
“Women shouldn’t be ashamed of liking sex,” she argues.
“No one’s saying we should.” Maren shoots a look at me that feels like a sympathetic hug, then turns back to Mom. “But, Hilda, there’s a difference between not being ashamed of wanting sex, and not wanting to have sex the first time you meet someone. Some people are comfortable with one-night stands, and some people want to get to know their potential partner better before getting naked. Neither’s wrong.”
“I want to have sex with Steve,” Brianna tells us. Mom’s eyeballing the amount of cream cheese Brianna’s slathering on her bagel, and I’m trying to not let my own eyeball twitch.
No one else notices. I’m oversensitive to it.
And that’s okay too. I know why. I’m working on only changing and worrying about the things I can actually control.
I can’t control my mother.
“Did you tell him that?” Julie asks Brianna.
She sniffs her bagel, smiles at it, and chomps down. “Not yet. He needs to earn me.”
“High five, sister.” Eugenie slaps palms with Brianna. “Way to identify what you want.”
“How’s school?” I ask Brianna.
She beams. “Good. I joined that study group with your friend D’Angelo, and I’ve never had more friends in my entire life. We’re doing laser tag tomorrow.”
“Aw, that’s fantastic!”
And it’s almost nine. I know Tyler’s flight home from Seattle was supposed to land about an hour ago. He should be nearly back at his condo by now, if he’s not already there.
He had the best game last night after a solid game two nights ago too. Rewarding him with all-day naked time is the only thing on my calendar until Monday. He’s earned it.
Even if he hadn’t played well, it’s still what I’d want to do.
I really hate my new rule about putting my phone on do not disturb during support group meetings.
We move on to asking Eugenie how her week was, then around the circle, me trying not to fidget and jumping in every time I’m afraid my mom will say something problematic or without thinking, Maren helping because she’s been doing this since she first asked me to help her find a boyfriend a year ago.
We’ve decided she’s incredibly picky and possibly not in a good headspace for a man, which is only hard since most of her core group of girlfriends—including Kami—are all settling down.
It’s weird to be left behind.
It’s even weirder to realize I’m in her core group and I’m one of the people who might be leaving her behind. Or at least make her feel that way, even if I wouldn’t ever abandon her as a friend.
I mean, assuming this thing with Tyler is serious.
I haven’t exactly asked him if he sees me as the future Mrs. Jaeger, or if we’re having some kind of extended friends-with-benefits-who-live-together thing.
There’s a strong possibility I’m terrified to know the answer. Plus, it’s only been a week.
A week. That’s way too soon to start thinking about forever. I need to slow down, enjoy him as my friend and orgasm-maker, and not start acting like my mother.
Julie drifts off mid-sentence with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, eyes going wide and aimed at something behind me.
Eugenie glances over my shoulder, and her eyes pop too. Brianna drops her bagel.
Maren gets a smug smile and pulls out her camera.
“Well, that’s a sight better than coffee,” Mom announces.
I’m bracing myself as I turn and check out what they’re all staring at.
It briefly registers that the commotion in the outdoor seating area is Rooster Applebottom signing a woman’s chest with a Sharpie, and that Duncan Lavoie is the crazy guy in just a T-shirt in the chilly morning, on one knee talking to an overexcited little kid.
I say briefly registers mostly because the window’s not worth watching when the door is so much more interesting.
Tyler’s average size for a hockey player, but he seems to take up the entire width of the doorway. He doesn’t scan the room, and he doesn’t trip over any tables despite not actually looking at what’s in his way as he strides inside.
Nope.
The man trains those eyes on me like he’s tearing down the hockey rink on a breakaway, his only mission scoring a goal.
It’s me.
I’m the goal.
Pretty sure a hockey goal doesn’t come with a suddenly throbbing clit and aching breasts
and a short-circuiting brain that can basically only think about the picture Tyler sent me after my shift at Cod Pieces last night, where, yes, I had one earbud in playing the game the whole time, and yes, I did accidentally yell GOAL! in a customer’s ear in drive-thru.
But the more important thing?
That picture.
Tyler’s boxers.
Tyler’s tented Thrusters boxers.
He stops behind my chair, bends, and claims my lips in a searing kiss that I feel all the way in the ghost of me that will one day haunt this earth.
“Phew,” Mom says. “Muffy, I don’t know what you’re sprinkling on his corn flakes, but keep it up, sweetheart. Am I having a hot flash, or is he just that sexy?”
Tyler’s face twitches.
I can feel it.
And it’s suddenly the funniest thing in the world.
I break off the kiss with a fit of the giggles, like I’m fourteen again, and I get the eyebrow of are you kidding me? from my gruff, broad-shouldered, hot-as-sin boyfriend.
He tugs at my chair. “Excuse me, ladies. Personal emergency. Muff will see you next time.”
“Keep her as long as you want,” Mom tells him. “I wouldn’t mind if you knocked—”
Maren clamps a hand over Mom’s mouth. “Hilda. Shut up and don’t ruin this for her.”
“Highly unlikely,” Tyler tells her as he pulls me to my feet. He flicks that deadly gaze at my mom. “But agreed. Hilda. Shut up.”
I glance at my clients.
All of them shoo me one way or another without demanding introductions.
“Sunderday—” I start, then realize that’s not a real day of the week.
“We’ll see you Tuesday,” Julie says with a grin.
“Blank you.”
Blank you?
Was I trying to bless her and thank you?
I don’t bless people. What the hell, Muffy?
Tyler’s chuckling as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, snags my coat and handbag from the back of my chair, flinging the bag across his own body like he’s done this a million times even though it’s bright pink, which definitely makes it more noticeable than a normal purse—for a guy, I mean—and steers me out of the café. “Is someone tongue-tied?” he murmurs.