The three of us stare at her and my mother mutters something about hormones as she heads her way.

“Yes, dear. We know you’re here. Sorry you feel left out.”

“Soph, where were you this afternoon? There’s no reason why you couldn’t have handed the check over to my father.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she says.

“Not giving David the check would’ve placed every single one of us on his shit list. We all could’ve been hurt by not handing over the money. Jesus, what the hell kind of excuse is that?” my voice cracks as I try to hold in my anger.

“It’s not an excuse. I thought that if your father didn’t have the check, he wouldn’t go to the park.”

“And then what?”

“I didn’t think...”

“Yeah, exactly. Christ, Sophia. If David weren’t dead we’d have sticks of dynamite shoved up our asses right now.”

“But he is,” she says under her breath. “He’s dead, your mother told me it was his body behind the Scarlett, so who gives a shit?”

“Okay, calm down,” my father cuts in. “Sophia, I appreciate your concern, and Cove, we’re not under attack. We have nothing to worry about so don’t cover your fear with fury.”

“You’re smarter than this, Sophia. This isn’t like you,” I state in my most composed voice. “And that’s all I’m going to say.”

There’s disappointment in her eyes, but I’m unsure whether it’s because I had the nerve to say such a thing, and I’m an ass, or because the words actually got to her, and she’s the ass. Either way, I wish I could take it back. She dealt with David before; she knows how sleazy and dangerous he can be.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

She nods, but not before a tear falls from the corner of her eye. She wipes it away then crosses her arms in defense.

“Does anyone have any thoughts as to why David was behind our building?” my father asks.

“No fucking clue. It doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not going to stand around making up scenarios as to what could have happened,” I respond.

My father exhales and I sense he wants to tell me off. “No, you’d rather just keep it all in your head.”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” my mother shakes her finger at us. “The two of you need some time apart.” She takes my father by the arm and leads him inside their place. “It’s like I have a couple of five year olds.”

Sophia copies my mother and pulls me inside our home. She closes the door and pulls off her hoodie to reveal a new dark green dress. It’s covered in what first appears to be colored polka dots, but under further inspection is actually a printed pattern of strawberries. The tag still hangs from the arm and swings in the air as she leaves the foyer.

A text from my mother comes in while I’m sliding out of my shoes. It’s just one word... hormones. I get it. My wife’s going to be a loon for months, but I guess that’s no different than how she was before.

I walk into the living room and find her lying on the sofa in front of the window that overlooks the Mississippi. Her hands are under her head while the rest of her body is in the fetal position. She’s distant as I take a seat by her side.

“I’m sorry, Sophia.”

Her eyes close and she rubs my back. I’m forgiven. Her contact is so powerful and healing in ways she’ll never understand. She’s the only person whose touch I can tolerate. Everyone else has put my head and body into a panic. As a teenager, my heart would flutter with anxiety, as my muscles tensed into tight knots. But Sophia’s able to free my heart and body because her touch is only about love. It’s not about money or performance or pleasing a company; her hand on my body is based purely on comfort.

I close my eyes and enjoy her caress. She’s being kind and considerate, not asking about my first shrink appointment from this afternoon. I told her I’d let her know what I discussed with the guy when I was ready, and it’s nice to have her respect my need for privacy.

“Cove, you said the other day before our dinner with your parents that some things were more important than arguing with your father.”

“We weren’t arguing.”

“Close enough.”

“At least we’re speaking to one another.”

“But why has he been short with you?” she asks, turning on her back to look at me. “You didn’t do anything. Not along the lines of his mistake. It’s stressful, you know?”

“Sorry, it will level out soon. I’ve been kind of crass to him as well, so we’re both being stubborn and foul to one another.”

She nods and takes my hand. “Like us.”

“Yeah. But we’ve been this way since day one. It’s a part of our personality and playfulness, especially as a couple. We’re spiteful, yet loving dumbasses; it’s harmless for the most part. My father and I, on the other hand, have never acted this way together. And we’re both guilty of being immature about the situation.”

“Which situation?”

I laugh and give her a deserving kiss. “Funny. You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

Her body’s warm, drenched in the evening sun, and her perfume is also fresh; something I haven’t smelled on her in the past. I sniff her shoulder and nibble at her skin until she smiles.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“The perfume?”

Her eyes widen with approval. “It’s Michael Kors Sporty Citrus. You like?”

“I do, but I don’t want to go off topic here. You haven’t answered my question about where you were this afternoon, but by the dress and perfume, I’ll assume you went shopping.”

She nods and presses her lips tightly together. “I know, I should’ve called Haverty to take me, but I wanted to be alone. Don’t you ever feel that way? That you need to get out, by yourself? Have some ‘me’ time?”

“Yeah, but not after my husband just had his fingers broken by some nut job. It was a poor decision, Soph. You could’ve been hurt.”

“He’s not around anymore.”

“You didn’t know he was dead at the time.”

She’s quiet and holds my hand then sighs and sits up. “I’m sorry. I apologize,” she whispers.

“Just let me know next time. I thought maybe you were nauseous again.”

“I was. And it comes and goes. I needed to get out and window shop, walk around downtown, and get some fresh air.”

“I understand, but we’re in agreement that you’ll be a little more honest about it next time, right?”

She flashes a warm smile in response, and I give her another kiss before we stand and hug.

“I’m craving baked potatoes for dinner, you want one?”

“What the hell? That was an odd switch. I’ll never understand how your mind works, Sophia,” I shake my head and grin. “Yep. A potato actually sounds good. Whatever you’re craving is fine.”

“Nice and bland, just what my belly needs. I thought we could continue this conversation while I cook.”

“You mean while you use the microwave?” I poke fun at her horrendous cooking skills.

“I plan on being a good mama, and a good cook, and I have months to practice, now sit,” she demands.

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like my mother.”

“Yup, maybe you married her.”

“Oh God,” I roll my eyes like a girl. “I told you before not to joke about that. I don’t want any thoughts of my mother in my head while we fuck.”

She grins and washes four potatoes, then takes a skewer from the kitchen drawer and stabs holes through each one.

“What do you think happened to David?” she asks with her back turned.

“I don’t know. But it better not have anything to do with my father.”

She stops preparing the meal and raises her head, staring directly toward the kitchen wall. “You don’t really believe he could’ve done this, do you?” she whispers.

My hesitation answers her question.

“Oh, Cove,” she faces me with saddened eyes. “I know you’re angry about Kaitlyn and Ivy, especially considering how much this has hurt your mother, but your father didn’t have any reason to kill David. Besides, the man wouldn’t harm a fly. Have you ever seen him even hit another person?”