“Okay, now you're starting to scare me," Wes says."No, scary is the way people can alter their voices on cue. Like your imitation of that creepy guy who lives at your house.""You mean my dad?" he laughs.”

“Well, he's handsome and rich and you're living in his house, borrowing his boat. You're his— He's your—" he still couldn't say it. Saying it would make it real and then he'd be the other woman, sort of."Father." B supplied calmly."Father? You mean as in sugar daddy?""No, I mean father, as in father, you know, guy who had sex with my mother resulting in my existence." He was less calm.”

“He likes you. You like him, you're just scared. Well," she glanced over her shoulder and dropped her voice, "unless you tell me he's some freaky psycho-killer..." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Then I'm not letting you mess this up for yourself. Your creepy hermit status is officially over.”

“Okay," I began. "You’re too old for me. You’re scary. It’s creepy that you were so all over my mom and now you’re all over me.”

“Professional. You live with him, you cook for him, you decorate his house like your own nest – it's totally professional. I mean, it's not like you're in love with the guy.”

“Ah yes…” He made an exaggerated nod. “I was supposed to be filling you in on Nangí’s story.” He winked at me playfully, as I kept up my glare. “Now, where should I begin?”“Tell you what, let me get you started,” I came back. “Once upon a time, there was this über-creepy old man—who looks like he lives in a haunted shack and eats small children for breakfast—and I decided to make him my new best friend becaaauuse… Okay, your turn.”