47. Talk Blockers, Part One

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Freddie

Julia stood up, blowing a stray hair out of her face, and grabbed her empty wine glass. "I do hereby declare this kitchen closed!"

The boy's eyes lit up. "Does that mean I don't have to wash the dishes?"

"That's up to you," she told him matter-of-factly. "You can wash them now, or you can wash them tomorrow morning."

Danny frowned. "Aw, man."

Pick tomorrow, Mr. Phantom, I urged silently, so you can run off and study or practice or whatever, go talk to Lauren, you know, do something that doesn't involve me- or your mum.

Not that I didn't want him around, of course. That wasn't it at all. I simply had so much to tell Julia, none of it being the sort of thing that could wait a while. I'd had to hold back on saying it all through both the meal prep and the dinner itself, which was long enough.

However, it seemed that Danny didn't feel like procrastinating tonight. "Okay. I'll do 'em now."

"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "Most of this stuff can go in the dishwasher anyway, so it shouldn't be too much."

Nodding dutifully, Danny pulled on the gloves and took to the job. Julia's eyes shone as she watched him. She was such a proud mum, and quite rightly.

Incidentally, I believe this was the first time, not counting that evening we dined in front of The Matrix, the three of us had sat down together at the table without acting like we hated each other. (Well, Danny had never behaved that way; I suppose I'm only referring to Julia and myself.) In fact, things were indeed quite relaxed between us. You would never have thought, if you were a fly on the wall and listening in on our little chat, that only a few hours before she and I had alternated almost too smoothly between being at each other's throats and in each other's arms.

With a little sigh, Julia reached for the half-empty pinot bottle when I came up from behind and swiped it. "Allow me," I smiled.

She arched her brow rakishly, but she moved her glass closer. No sooner had I tilted the bottle to pour than Julia pushed the bottle away, scoffing and tossing her head like an indignant duchess.

"What is it?" I asked.

In a haughty accent that seemed to be a playful imitation of my own, she answered, "I'd think surely you of all people would know better, Freddie."

Danny giggled- and I realized Julia had had much more to drink than she could handle. I had to fight back a grin while I began, "I don't- quite-"

"Don't insult me, dear man!" she thundered, waving her free hand dramatically. "Peasants, we may be, compared to your higher standing, but we're not rubes- and only a pure, full-fledged rube would allow such a social atrocity!"

"Social atrocity? My dear, what are you on about?"

She gestured at the bottle and our positions, then leaned in close and softly uttered two words:

"Left. Side."

I blinked, lost for a moment while she smirked in triumph- and then I remembered. My cheeks flushed a little. Julia, that was eight years ago, and I apologized from the bottom of my heart. My God. And people say I'm one to cling to all the wrong things. Nonetheless, I moved around from her right to the more socially accepted angle.

"Was that worth it, darling?" I sighed, pouring what was left of the wine into her glass.

"Completely."

I lowered my voice so Danny wouldn't hear. "Bitch."

She was not impressed. "Takes one to know one."

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