“Your daughter claiming my fiancé.” She shakes her head.
“That girl is a mess. I think you should sleep with one eye open when she turns sixteen.” I pray to god she’s joking.
“Uh, if you tell that monster no in the near future, you should sleep with both eyes open and a taser by your bedside.” I throw back at her.
“Truth.” She narrows her eyes on her husband across the room. “I blame him.” She’s selling that bullshit story.
“Emberlee, you are just as bad.” I don’t think they can go to Target without leaving with something for her. I will say, Darby is a mini tyrant but she isn’t misbehaved. Spoiled but grounded if that’s a thing. She isn’t a brat but she is one determined little girl with a mind of her own. She’s one to ask for forgiveness rather than permission and I don’t see that changing at any part of her life.
“I’m gonna send her to you when the tragic three’s hit. You can keep her for the summer.” She threatens me.
“Uh, nope. Shop again. Send her to your dad.” She tilts her head.
“Hell no, that man will ruin her. I mean, I’m a product of his upbringing before he found a clue and that isn’t something he should boast about.” She’s still down on herself.
“Shut up. We all have our issues but you’re one of the most amazing bitches I know. You finished school, had a baby, had a young adult breakdown, fell in love, and have a kick ass business. Shut your piehole.” I hug her and we laugh at my diatribe.
“Let’s go get a drink.” She suggests.
“Now you’re talking sensibly.” We walk to the bar. “Bud Light and whatever she wants.”
“Appletini.” She flirts with the unsuspecting bartender.
“You’re horrible.” I shake my head. Sure as shit, the bartender winks and strikes up a conversation as he mixes her drink. Pretty sure he failed bartending 101 because it isn’t supposed to take seven minutes to make that shit. Brody must sniff his troublemaking girlfriend’s antics because he appears behind her and makes the bartender look like a dwarf.
And he spills the drink that took half my life to mix and has to start over. I laugh and turn to leave them with their weird bullshit. “Embe,” he grumbles and I tune the rest of their foreplay out.
“Ahem.” Echoes through the small area and Mason is standing there holding a microphone with Julie next to him.
“This is gonna be good.” Breck stands next to me.
“Why does he recruit my child into his shit?” Saylor gripes.
“I don’t think your child needs much encouragement.” I remind her. I scan the room for Kinsley. “Either one of them.” I nod my head and she whips hers around to see her daughter removing her dress while standing next to a pole.
“Jesus Christ, Shortstop. What shit is she watching at my parents?” Deacon strides to grab his daughter— followed by googling padded cells, chastity belts, and more than likely nanny services. He’s gonna be gray and have a bad heart when those two start dating.
“Not a fucking word.” Saylor seethes at my laughter.
“He still hasn’t seen the stripper pole you put in the basement?” I question.
“No. He doesn’t go into my office. We established it’s my space and I don’t want to get him excited until I perfect the routine.” She pouts.
“He’s fixin’ to lose his mind and you’re keeping silent?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yep. I’ll make it up to him.” She winks and I’m sure she will. Fucking freak.
“I have a little girl here who’d like to tell a story.” Mason grabs our attention and hands Julie the microphone.
“Howz it starts?” Her head bobs as she stares at Mason. He whispers in her ear and she takes over. “I don’t likes it.” She tosses the microphone down and crosses her arms. Holding out her hand, Mason places a lollipop in it and she walks to Breck’s mom and whispers in her ear. She climbs into Jason’s lap and his grin spreads as he leans to Michelle and she shouts.
“I get to do the honors of this one.” Mason’s voice is teasing. “Brody. Oh brother-in-law.”
“Shit.” Breck laughs.
“What?” Brody is trying to keep his girl in check and Mason is taunting him.
“Your sister is pregnant. With my baby. I hit a homerun.” I shake my head. Emberlee rolls her eyes. Saylor flips him off. Breck smiles, love radiating from her.
“I’ll kill you.” Brody snarls.
In a flash, Brody drops to his knees, cupping his jewels and crying in pain— and a flash of blond hair appears. “That my Unc Mace.” Julie stomps her foot and turns to grin at Mason.
“That should get her a few extra pops.” Mason beams at his little protégé.
“Jesus.” Deacon hollers from the back of the room. “Saylor, get your kid.”
“Sure, they’re mine when they’re behaving like menaces, but whose fucking friends are these?” She flips him off and ignores his roaring.
“Hey.” I pinch her.
“You’re mine. I’ll claim you every day. That fucking beast,” Saylor points to Mason. “I don’t claim. He starts all the shit and I’m left to deal with it.” Breck rolls her eyes until Saylor gives her a parting blow. “I hope you become the next octo-mom. But all girls.”
“Please. You love him the most after Deacon.” Breck calls her bluff.
“Shut up.” Saylor flips her off and goes to punish Julie.
Emberlee joins us, while Brody is still writhing on the ground. “Looks like I won’t be marrying your brother. Deal before was three kids, and Julie can pack a fucking punch. I don’t think we’ll make it to two.” I swear to Christ there is something wrong with my friends.
We’ve been home barely a full day and I’m dead on my feet. “Go take a bath, baby.” Caden strokes my hair.
“Okay.” He talked me right into it.
“I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” He kisses my cheek and I hurry to run the water, making sure the steam is billowing before I crawl in. He’s taking forever and I’m thirsty.
My phone is ringing and I don’t want to leave this bathtub. Hanging shelves, framing paintings and photos, getting the lighting right— it’s exhausting.
“Aves. It’s Breck.” He walks into the bathroom with my phone and I want to throttle him. Has he never heard of voicemail . . . sheesh? He pulls his hand from behind his back and has a glass of wine. I love him and he’s forgiven.
He hands me the wine first— smart man— and after a gulp, I grab my phone. “Why the hell are you calling me from your honeymoon?” They had four days and this is the last one, I’m surprised Mason has let her up for air.
“I need help.” She whispers.
“It happens to every guy. Go with that line and you’ll be golden.” Caden coughs from his perch, eyeballing me. I flip him off and listen to Breck.
“I want to surprise my husband with anal. I don’t know how to do this.” She did not just call me to discuss that. I get people don’t have boundaries in this circle but for fuck’s sake, be self-respecting and watch porn.
“Breck, I’ve told you that’s off limits. I’ll discuss my man’s dick size, stamina, hell, I’ll even throw in the taste of his spunk but how and where he shoves it in isn’t your business. Google, bitch.” Caden has the audacity to chuckle.
“Avery, please. I’m sober because I’m pregnant. In a few months all the ball bitches will leave their home on Whore Island and come after my man when I’m as big as a house and I need something to whisper in his ear.” She’s lost it. That’s the only explanation for this unfounded diatribe.
“You’re full of shit. It’s the hormones. Mason loves you.” This still doesn’t satisfy her.
“Avery, please. If I call Emberlee, Brody will freak the fuck out and we know Saylor hasn’t taken it up the poop shoot.” I choke as I take a sip of my wine, doubting the truth of her words regarding Saylor.
“Fine. First you need lube.”
“Check.” She assures me— like I fucking care.
> “Use it.” She starts talking and I halt her progress. “Shut it. You asked for advice, not a conversation. My bath is getting cold and my wine warm. Like I said, use the lube. Be generous. It’s like three dollars. He’s gonna need to stretch that shit with his fingers, don’t be shy.” Another sip of wine. “When he goes to stick it in, grab your ears, puff your cheeks like a chipmunk storing nuts, and exhale fast. Do this over and over and all will be fine.” Caden’s eyes widen and I shake my head at him.
“Really? It won’t hurt?” She’s ridiculous.
“Not if you puff your cheeks and hold your ears. It releases the sphincter muscles and he can slide home.”
“Thanks, Avery.” Bitch hangs up.
I hand Caden my phone. “Don’t answer it. Unless it’s the Pope offering me an extra day of sainthood for that conversation.”
“I can’t believe you just did that to her. And how do you think that will contribute to an extra day of sainthood? You just told her to behave like an idiot during sex. Mason is gonna lose it.” He doesn’t get to lecture me regarding the bounds of sainthood.
“Caden, if you haven’t noticed, that conversation shouldn’t have happened. She has a phone and Internet. Google. These people we’re friends with aren’t sane. That will earn me an extra day of sainthood. It isn’t like I encouraged pre-marital sex— he put a ring on it and mailed the license in.” I don’t tell him but dealing with his ass gets me an extra day, also.
“Babe, you know sanity wasn’t a strong suit in our lives. It isn’t like anyone hides their crazy. Hell, our parents wave their flag proudly.” I don’t need him hoarding facts to prove his point. “You know she’s gonna be mad. Probably not talk to you for a bit.”
I purse my lips. “Oh, a day? That’s a bit to you? Good, maybe I can enjoy my bath.” I raise my eyebrows hoping he’ll get my drift.
“I don’t think I like your attitude.” Hmmm . . . is this supposed to deter me?
“That’s too bad for you. It’s kinda part of me.” I close my eyes, sip my wine, and try to ignore him. As if . . .
I’m swept from the warm water, thrown over his shoulder, swatted on the ass and fucked into submission. What a shitty life I lead.
“I really think you have it wrong with how sainthood works.” He utters into my neck as we drift off. I chose to ignore him because he isn’t raining on my parade.
Caden is taking two classes and he’s bored stiff. So, he’s at my gallery every chance he gets. Bless him but I’m gonna strangle him. “Don’t forget we leave Friday afternoon for Breck’s baby shower.”
She’s flying home and Saylor has put this together. Emberlee pouted but she’s busy settling into her new house and Brody travels with the team a lot. We’ll be home this weekend and again in three weeks for Thanksgiving. Mason will be able to join us and I think he and Breck may stay back for a bit. Which means Emberlee will be fit to be tied and sweet talk Brody into staying with her parents.
Brecklynn isn’t due until March. Julie will be five in April and Darby and Kinsley three in May— shitballs. We’re doing the shower at this time because Mason will be into practices and Breck won’t be able to travel, plus Caden will be full-time in courses. Our lives are all going in so many different directions we take what time we can.
“Did she call with the gender?” Caden kisses my neck and I stop what I’m doing, sinking back into his chest and reveling in the security he offers.
“Nah. Her appointment was at three. I’m sure they’ll Skype tonight.” I tilt my head to give him better access. “You gonna get around to telling them your specialty?” Things got crazy at the reception and there hasn’t been a good time— plus I think he’s scared it’ll bring up memories for Mace. “You know he’ll be proud of you.” I reassure him.
“I think at Thanksgiving.” He utters.
“We still haven’t learned. Putting important things off.” I shake my head.
“The most important thing is I love you. I tell you every day.” And he does. His hand glides to my stomach. “Have you thought about kids?”
Whoa. Stop the presses. “Uh, sure.” I try to pull from his arms but he tugs me closer.
“Talk to me.” He drops his head to my neck.
“I don’t think this is the time. We haven’t set a wedding date. You’re in school and your schedule will get crazy after this semester.” I’m rambling but what am I gonna do if he wants kids now? I won’t deny him but I’ll feel I’m sacrificing a lot.
His body shaking snaps me to attention and my spine stiffens. “I wasn’t talking about now, Picasso. In four years, we’ve planned our life. I think we knew it’d be us together and here in the end— sure, kids were mentioned and I know it’s a given but I don’t want my school, your business— timing— to get in the way of what you want. Sure, I want to wait but I want you to be happy. If you were pregnant today, I’d be over the fucking moon. If it happens years down the line, I’ll still be over the fucking moon.”
I sigh in relief. “Okay. We’re reading from the same page here.”
“How many do you want?” I can’t believe in four years we haven’t discussed this. It’s been assumed.
“Two.” I’m unsure. I scrunch my nose. “Can we get through one before we make decisions? How many do you want?”
“As many as you give me. Or we adopt. Or we have animals. Whatever makes you happy.” This— this is why I love him.
Chapter Eighteen
“Son of a . . .” I catch myself in time of owing Julie damn Starbucks. I’m fixing to end that rule and she’ll learn the colorful words I’m trying to shelter her from. What better way to learn real life conversations than at home . . . it was our duty as parents. “Bitch.” I completed my phrase and stare at her.
We are at a crossroads. I could see her tiny lips twitching to call me out but something held her back. It could have been my mess of hair, my frazzled state, the dog hair covering my black business suit— or the fact I was holding a shoe with a broken heel looking at the mess of spaghetti sauce Kinsley was smearing all over the kitchen tiles.
“Jesus,” my husband— their sire— barks.
“Yes. You need him. This home needs him.” I bite back. I have thirty minutes to make this house look presentable, change, and prep Avery and Caden’s room. They could have stayed with one of their parents but it was important for me that they stay here. I haven’t seen them since July— none of them— and I miss my friends.
“Shortstop,” Deacon comes close. “I wish you’d consider a cleaning crew to help. You’re working yourself to the bone.” He stares at his daughter like she’s sprouted three heads as she continues her masterpiece along the kitchen floor. “Or you could cut back your hours. We don’t need the money, Say.”
I whirl to confront him but am thrown off balance with a missing heel, so of course his arms catch me and I get distracted up against his body. I shake my head and kick my one heel off and back up. “You could cut back your hours. Or help pick up the house one day a week.” I’m snapping at him because I’m battling myself.
My old self is at war with my new self. I had dreams. Goals. They were important. But they’ve become less since loving Deacon and having the girls. And I think deep down I’m waiting for him to leave— abandon me and leave me with no means of support. My job is my security and I feel horrible because it should be my husband.
“I can’t cut back at work— I’m in the middle of development but you’re right. I can help around the house some.” Shit. I’m the biggest bitch. And that’s saying a lot because I’m friends with Emberlee.
“No. I’m sorry.” I drop my head down and blow a frustrated sigh. His arms wrap around me and he drags me into his chest. “I’m horrible.”
“Don’t talk about my wife like that.” He kisses my temple and I melt. “Talk to me.”
“We don’t have time.” I whine.
“We do. Nothing else is as important as this.” He motions from his chest to mine and he’s right.
“The girls?” We can’t leave them unsupervised. Do that for an entire forty-five seconds and I’ll be scrubbing marinara from the grout for a month.
The doorbell rings and Julie and her dog screech past with Kinsley trying to keep up. “Jesus.” he growls. I don’t know if he thinks calling him nineteen times a day will make him appear.
“Hey!” Aves cheers and I want to burst into tears. My house is a mess, I’m disheveled and slowly reaching break down status. She notices my dilemma and grabs Kinsley, Caden grabs Julie and she points to the stairs. “Go. Deal. We’ve got this.”
I miss this support.
I miss my friends.
“Just keep an eye on them. I’ll get everything else when we’re done talking.” I give Aves a quick hug and Caden squeezes me tight.
“Go.” He pushes me to Deacon. I follow my husband to the master bedroom and plop down to the bed.
“Talk to me, Shortstop.” Shame heats my face. This man has given me no reasons to doubt him; he’s dealt with my insecurities, taken them as his own and slayed my demons. Problem is, they keep creeping up.
“I’m fighting myself and common sense. I know this, but I can’t stop myself.” I begin to fidget.
He kneels down in front of me and takes my hands. “Words, Saylor. More of them. Make me understand. Don’t shut me out.”
I open my mouth and it all tumbles free. “I want to cut back on hours, but I’m afraid to give up the security it brings. I want more time with our girls but I’m so exhausted at the end of the week, I drag ass with them all weekend. I want a night with just you but because I’m at work eight to nine hours a day, I can’t let them outta my sight any longer. I’m fucking tired. I miss my friends. You’ve always been supportive and I’m grateful for everything. I love you. But I keep waiting for you to leave.”
His face doesn’t change. His body doesn’t tense. He continues to stare at me the same way— with love. “Not happening, Shortstop. It’s okay for you to feel like this. We’ve had a lot of changes in a short time. But, come to me. Let me reassure you. I don’t give a fuck if it’s once a month or ten times a day. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it because I never get tired of saying it. I love you.” He catches my tears with his thumb and I know me crying makes him stabby. “Saylor, you do the finances. I gave that to you so you’d feel secure. Cut back at work but take your normal salary from our account. That money is ours, so if you need to take some and put it in an account I don’t have access to— one I don’t know about— do it, baby. Whatever you need.”
Changing Fate (Endgame #5) Page 13
