Eighteen
With my belly full from Crow’s pesto pasta, I followed Owl down into the basement to get my purse and prepare to leave for the night. Owl jogged down the steps, in a great mood after good food and good conversation with his friends. I slogged down the steps, taking one at a time. My fingers alternately curled around the banister and then straightened to glide over it.
“Owl?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“You want to f**k Ellie, right?”
He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. His face screwed into a puzzle as though I were asking him a trick question.
I took the last step that put me onto the ground level. “I think I would be okay with that.”
Owl quirked that eyebrow up. “You think?”
I swallowed, gathering my courage. “I would be okay with it. But,” I took a deep breath. “But I
