“That depends,” she says. “What are you making, dear?” “A sex swing.” Lemonade shoots up my nose and burns. I cough and sputter my way through what would otherwise be a moment of suspended silence. But that only lasts for a blessed few seconds before I’m surrounded by a flurry of voices that tosses me into an alternate reality. “You’ll need a softer heft for that. Maybe try the MillaMia merino.” “You might want to consider a tighter crochet stitch.” “Is it for you?” Maude asks without looking up. “Or does it need to take the weight of an adult man? Like, say”—her eyes flick to me—“maybe the
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