No, it was not okay. But of course it was okay. Could he ask her to wear more clothes next time? No, that would sound weird, right?
“Yeah, Dad. Please?”
They both looked down to find Andre was finally conscious.
“Well, hey there,” Michael greeted his son. “Glad to see you're awake. You need to get up, take Brownie out, and get ready so you’re not late.”
“We had so much fun last night, Dad!”
“Yeah, I'm getting that impression,” Michael said, casting Ami a glance.
She smiled at his son with such sincere affection that Michael caught his breath. Again. Surely it was because he wasn't used to seeing women other than family with Andre.
She is family.
Well, not technically.
In every way that really matters.
Except for the most critical way. Like being actual family. Because you could totally kiss her and it would not be inappropriate.
It would be totally inappropriate.
Why again?
He was really tired. Or something.
“Let’s go. Up, take Brownie out, and get in the shower,” Michael said to Andre, focusing on the main priority. “Looks like you’ve got extra scrubbing to do today.”
Suddenly Ami's hand flew to her face and the green paint covering her cheek and chin. Then to her head. “Oh my God,” she gasped. She pulled the wig off, tossed it to the table, and combed her fingers through her hair. The one cheek not covered in paint was a little pinker now.
Michael couldn't help but grin. “You forgot?”
“You distracted me,” she said. Her non-green cheek got even pinker. “I mean, you woke me up out of a dead sleep. I wasn’t thinking about how I looked.” She glanced down, seemingly realizing how she was dressed as well. “I took my shirt off so it wouldn't get paint all over it.”
Even as he did it, he knew he shouldn't. Still, Michael let his gaze track over the tank top covered with streaks of paint and then down her leg that had matching smears. “That doesn't seem to have worked.”
“This shirt,” she said, lunging for the short-sleeved blue button-down. She pulled it on and tied it in front, partially covering her breasts and the paint-streaked tank. Of course, it was too late. The vision of her purple-paint-covered breast was imprinted fully on Michael's brain.
“How did you two end up falling asleep on the couch anyway?” Michael asked.
“We were pretending that we had drunk a sleeping potion,” Andre said. He giggled. “I guess it worked.”
Ami giggled too, and again the word adorable tripped through his brain.
“It sure did. We had a big day, though. Buyin’ makeup and costumes and pralines.” She grinned at Andre.
“Pralines?” Michael asked.
“Pralines are a must after shopping,” Ami informed him. “And you have to trust me on that. I’m an expert shopper. But don’t worry. We saved you some.”
“You better have.” Michael shook his head but couldn’t keep from smiling. “Andre, go. Shower. Gotta hustle. I'll make breakfast.”
“Okay.” Andre started down the hall with Brownie at his heels, but pivoted back, bee-lined to Ami, and wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks for coming over. I had the best time.”
She squeezed him back, and the smile on her face was bright and completely genuine. “I had an amazing time too. We’ll definitely do it again. Don't forget to email me your list of characters and I’ll send you my map.”
“Promise.”
Andre ran down the hall and out the back door into the fenced in yard to let Brownie relieve himself and run for a few minutes. As soon as the door shut, Michael turned to her. “What’s he going to email you?”
“He has a whole spreadsheet of characters with all of their tools and powers and everything he’s going to share with me.”
She seemed sincere. The woman who had been two places away from being Miss Freaking America two years before was actually into Warriors of Easton.
And the two women who’d placed ahead of her? Definitely not as beautiful. No fucking way.
“You actually cosplay? Like you go to cons and stuff?” He knew he asked it as if he were waiting for her to tell him something weird. He didn't think it was strange. He just had not expected that from the ex-beauty-queen-turned-model.
She laughed. “I’ve been doing beauty pageants since I was ten. Have you ever watched a pageant?”
He had, in fact. The ones she’d been in. “Maybe a couple times.”
“Dressing up is what I do. And I love accessories.” She sighed happily. “Tiaras and shoes and jewelry and boas and capes. Oh my God, my mom actually let me have a cape once.” She grinned. “What I love most, though, is the makeup. The stuff you can do with makeup is amazing. But by now, after fourteen years, pageant makeup and day-to-day makeup aren’t even a challenge. But this stuff? Making human faces into monsters and witches and trolls and dragons? It’s so creative and fun! And with cosplay, I don’t have to think about underwires and Spanx and evening gowns. Now I can wear boots and leather and carry a sword!”
Her eyes were sparkling now and her smile was wide. Michael was mesmerized.
“And my face can be purple. Or I can wear a burlap robe and moccasins, and my face can be green. Can you imagine how much more comfortable moccasins are than four-inch heels?” She laughed. “In the past, I've always had to worry about looking the best. Now I could totally go the other way and try to look as revolting as possible.”
“You’ll never pull revolting off.”
Michael realized what he'd said two seconds after saying it. And realized he shouldn't have said it out loud.
She smiled. “Thanks. But this will be fun, and now I have someone who wants to do it with me.”
She took the compliment in stride. He should've expected that. This woman had been told she was pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, and every variation of those words, all her life.
“I need to get breakfast started,” he said, moving toward the kitchen and away from her seemingly contagious delight. He found himself slightly jealous of his son and almost wanting to attend a cosplay convention so he could see Ami Landry try to pull off “revolting”.
“Want to stay?” he asked. “Breakfast is the least I can do.” He was very aware of how blessed he was to have free childcare whenever he needed it.
“I feel like I should clean up in here,” Ami said, looking around.
“I've got it,” Michael said. “Plus, he’s so excited, he's probably gonna get all of this out again after school.”
“Is it okay if I leave it all here with you? That way, he and I can get on the computer together and practice at the same time. And it will already be here when I come back.” She was studying the collection of paints and brushes on the coffee table as if plotting and planning out loud, instead of looking at Michael.
He shook his head. She was serious. She was going to get more makeup, so she could practice making herself into characters from the videogame and book series that his son was obsessed with.
“I hope he hasn't moved on to the next big thing by the time you get back down here,” Michael said, heading to the kitchen.