Though, it seemed meeting Axl had had an interesting effect on my father.

I just wondered if that would continue to develop, how it would, and if whatever that was, was good, and finally, if that would last.

On the way home from Dad’s, I got a call from Axl whereupon, immediately after exchanging greetings, he asked, “After you work, yours or mine, baby?”

First, I loved, even though I was no longer staying with him, that didn’t mean I didn’t get to sleep beside him.

Second, I wanted him to fuck me in my bed.

“Mine.”

“Right. Text me when you’re on your way home from Smithie’s. I’ll meet there.”

“I’ll give you a key tomorrow.”

“Cool, beautiful.”

A week and a day together, we each had the other’s keys.

I thought that was seriously, freaking rad.

After I got home from work, Axl meeting me at my place then fucking me quick and hard (and the usual fantastic) before we both passed out was even more seriously, freaking rad.

Axl was gone before I even got out of bed in the morning on Thursday (also stuck in a post-fuck haze, that said, his day started super early, he was always out the door before seven, sometimes earlier than that, and I wasn’t usually out of bed until nine, earliest, more often closing on ten).

But when I finally pulled myself out of bed and got down to loading up the Smeg, I opened up the fridge and saw my lonely, woeful salted caramel creamer and kicked myself for not hitting the grocery store on the way from Dad’s after my phone conversation with Axl.

I rectified that yesterday (we now had white chocolate mocha, cinnamon, vanilla, toffeenut and the aforementioned salted caramel).

And he’d noticed.

Rounding that out, Thursday included Dad calling me and saying he was good on his own.

Which prompted a short conversation that he did not get impatient with (first shocker), that included me asking if everything was all right with him (he assured me it was). If he was taking care of his health (he assured me of that too, second shocker, because he sounded like he wasn’t lying). And if we were all right.

“It’s just that meeting your man made me realize I lean on you too much,” he’d said to that last (third shocker). “I love to see you, Hattie, but you’re a young woman. The last thing you need is to be spending every night with your father.”

He was right about that.

It was still a shock.

Thus Thursday also included me calling Mom to share not only this turn of events, but belatedly share that I was seeing someone, I really liked him, and it’d be good if we all found a time to sit down together.

She’d been wary of Dad, “He’s pulling his usual stuff, Hattie, don’t fall for it,” and ecstatic about Axl, “I can’t wait to meet him! We’ll fix a time!”