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“It’s February,” I point out. He shrugs. “We’ll shovel off the deck so we can get to the grill.” “That may be the most Wisconsin thing I’ve ever heard,” Miller says with a chuckle.
He’s silent for several beats, his eyes on the hole and then on my dildo now lying on my bed with the chunk of drywall still attached to the base. His eyes volley back and forth as he puts the pieces together, and then his lips twitch in a smile that he fights back. “You must’ve really been going at it,” he finally says. “Oh good, I was worried this would be embarrassing. I’m glad you’re able to be an adult about it,” I say sarcastically.
