by Bijou Hunter
“Outsider is a shitty biker name,” Pop says. “Besides, he isn’t an outsider anymore.”
“Shitty like Coop the Poop, you mean?” I counter.
Pop immediately levels an irritated glare at Mom who bats her big brown eyes until he forgets why he’s mad. They very casually wander to their bedroom, and we don’t seem them for hours. Quaid only smiles because now we have the giant TV to ourselves and he’s gotten pretty damn fond of that thing.
“You’ll always feel like an outsider,” I tell Quaid while snuggled on my parents’ couch. “It’s too ingrained in your bones to feel differently.”
“I never feel that way with you.”
Smiling, I caress his bearded jaw. “I’m the only one who sees past your bullshit. It’s why I know you need taking care of despite your many denials.”
“I really don’t.”
“Shut up, or I’ll start feeding you.”
Quaid chuckles since he knows I’ll do it too. I love taking care of him. Folding his laundry is my favorite, but cooking for him comes in a close second. I want him comfortable for the rest of his life to make up for how he barely got by during his first thirty-four years.
Once she can talk, our blonde baby makes her feelings known regarding his nickname. She says, “No,” whenever anyone calls him “Outsider.” She loves that word even after she’s old enough to say other things. Her first word is, of course, dada, but I’m not surprised after Quaid works his magic on her nonstop from the day she’s born. If she weren’t such a loving kid, I’d be lucky to get any attention at all.
Thisbe is a nearly two when we finally install a bathroom, kitchen, and a loft in our yurt. Quaid designs everything himself and oversees the changes while I sit back and admire his butt since his job involves a lot of bending. We agree to keep the kitchen simple with a short wall of cabinets, but the bathroom design a bit more expansive with a full soaking tub and shower. There’s no denying Quaid’s gotten spoiled after enjoying the large bathrooms inside my parents’ house. I really think the design is too much for our small lifestyle, but how can I tell him no when he asks for so little?
Around the time we finish up the upgrades, the shelter contacts me about a six-month-old stray they found on the side of the road. The poor thing’s back legs were busted up at some point, and she’ll always have a limp. They figure I might be interested since I wanted a cat unlikely to roam the property and get eaten by the dogs.
Against my better judgment, I agree to meet her. Cats and my family’s dogs don’t mix, but the black kitten takes to Thisbe immediately. When the furball sits on my baby’s lap and falls asleep, I know our family size has grown to four.
Fortunately, Meow Meow has no interest in leaving the yurt. She rarely joins us on the porch, and only then because of Thisbe’s hypnotic coaxing.
The original plan Quaid and I devised was to wait on a second baby until Thisbe was five. We rushed into everything, but we weren’t going to rush into child number two.
My birth control is super extended stuff, and I forget all about a second baby until Thisbe is nearly six.
I ask Quaid if he wants another child, afraid to tell him that I don’t. Fortunately, my wise sex partner is brave enough to admit what I can’t.
The four of us fit the yurt perfectly. Our daughter loves our lifestyle, wanting to garden and care for the three chickens we buy when she’s four. Adding to our family makes no sense except to fit an ideal we don’t subscribe to.
Besides, I suspect Quaid understands we got lucky with our daughter. Thisbe loves him something crazy, and he can’t imagine another kid living up to the kind of tight relationship he enjoys with her.
Our life is damn good, and I’m happier than I ever expected to be. I never dreamed big, but I was always me. That’s the main lesson I’ll teach Thisbe—to be herself. She might not fit what others think is normal or attractive or smart. Yeah, she might be a mess in most people’s eyes.
But someone will one day recognize what others can’t. He won’t see an oddball feeding potato salad to geese. No, he’ll see his future, and she’ll never know what hit her.
THE END
MY PERFECT DRUG QUICKIE
Book 2 from the Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter
Releasing December 2018
Lily Johansson strives to be a good girl, but she’s got bad in her blood. The daughter of MC President Cooper Johansson should know better than to have a secret boyfriend. Especially one from a toxic family full of problems she doesn’t need. But some men are impossible to quit, and Lily learns this fact the hard way.
ABOUT BIJOU
Living in Indiana with my three sweet sons, three wacky cats, one super mom (and her ugly dog), I love cats, Red Letter Media, Call of Duty, and sitcoms canceled before their time.
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