by Julia Kent
Besides, Dylan’s parents were staying at the cabin after the wedding, and would be a crucial set of hands to help. Between Cyndi, her niece, and Dylan’s parents, they had it covered. Four adults for three kids should be enough.
Right?
Right?
“In three days!” he protested, but guided her toward the bathroom. As they turned and peered in the door, she realized quickly that Dylan’s single set of hands was most definitely not enough for three kids.
He was, to put it bluntly, soaking wet, clothes and all, standing in the bathroom doorway and shooting daggers at both of them.
“You jump in with the kids?” Mike asked.
“Not wet by choice,” Dylan answered through gritted teeth.
Mike’s booming laugh made Laura’s toes curl.
“They triple-teamed me!”
“Three toddlers outsmarted you?” Laura joked.
“Not surprised,” Mike muttered.
“Hey!” Dylan snapped, shaking his wet head. “Who gave Jillian that half-gallon pitcher to pour with?”
Mike stopped laughing and suddenly pretended he was anywhere but here.
“You take over,” Dylan announced, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, exposing gloriously cut abs and a chest that still made Laura go weak in the knees when she saw it naked. Her pulse quickened at the sight, and her throat went dry.
Other parts became distinctly wet.
Dylan caught her eye, then did a double take as her eyes lingered over him, giving his body a visual once-over that left her flushed and heated.
“Like what you see?”
“Love it.”
“Hey!” Mike barked. “You’re sniping my girl!” He and Dylan changed places, Mike peeking in on the kids in the tub, half attuned to the adult conversation and half focused on the kids who were three feet away.
“She was mine first!” Dylan retorted. The joke never got old.
“Yeah, well, you may have found her, but she stayed because of me,” Mike shot back.
“Not true! My incredible good looks and firefighter body was what—”
SPLASH!
A wall of water appeared around Mike’s back, like a giant wave crested from behind.
“Daddy’s wet now!” Jillian squealed, holding an empty pitcher. “We’re giving Daddy a baf, too!” Two rubber duckies bounced off Mike’s shoulders, going in erratic patterns as giggles poured out from the bathroom behind him.
Dylan’s laughter could be heard all the way from their Massachusetts cabin to the top of Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire.
Mike closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, an old pattern Laura knew he used to remain calm. The edges of his shirt were clinging to his hips, and a wet spot spread from behind, up his crotch area. Jillian’s “baf” had hit his midsection dead-on.
And then:
“EEWWWW! Daddy! Aaron’s peeing in the baftub! Stop it, Aaron! Pee pee goes in the potty! Not in the tub!” Jillian screeched, appearing at Mike’s knee and yanking on his hand. “Aaron’s peeing on my mermaid toy again! Make him stop, Daddy!”
Mike’s face was a mask of attempted Zen.
He failed.
Dylan unbuckled his wet pants and stood before her, clad only in boxer briefs, leering at Laura. She was torn.
Hot partner wanting sex
or
Help with three toddlers in the tub?
Not a hard decision for most people.
And then Jilly decided her fate for her.
“Papa! Mama’s the only one who isn’t wet.” Jilly used her princess wand to point. “I’m wet. Aaron’s wet. Adam’s wet. Daddy’s wet. But you’re not!” She gave Laura such a sweet look that it was inconceivable that Laura would look away.
But she did. For self-preservation’s sake.
Dylan and Mike managed to change expressions to the exact same mischievous look at the exact same time, split seconds before Laura could sprint away.
Someone’s impossibly-strong arms grabbed her and lifted her. All she saw was the ceiling. Her fists were ineffective against the wall of muscle that carried her, then gently dropped her into the giant Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom where Adam sat, sweetly, in a foot of water, playing with a plastic dolphin.
Laura was soaked, wedding dress and all.
“There,” Jillian declared, smiling. “Now we’re all wet. We match! We’re one big, wet, happy family.”
Yes, Laura thought, as Adam stood and began peeing in the water next to her and she jumped in the air to get out fast. Yes, we are.
* * *
“And then,” Laura said into the phone as she unpeeled yet another cheese stick wrapper for one of the kids, “Adam stood up and started peeing in the tub while I was—”
“STOP!” Josie yelled back. “I am never going to want children if you keep this up!”
“It’s not always like this,” Laura protested, but weakly. Actually, it was often like this. Minus being peed on.
Okay, it truthfully involved being peed on a lot more than she’d imagined before having kids....
Maybe she really did need to stop talking about raising kids with Josie. She wanted Alex and Josie to join the parenthood club with her, biology willing. Alex was more than ready, and with the wedding coming in two days, Josie’s excuses were falling apart.
“Laura, I know what parenting’s like. I pretty much parented Darla from the age of four until I left for college.”
Laura didn’t know what to say, because the truth in that statement made her feel so bad for Josie.
“Let’s talk about something more cheerful.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that my mother’s been charged with public indecency and possibly some sort of federal crime for having sex with two hot hockey players in an airplane bathroom on her flight from Ohio to the wedding.”
Laura dropped the cheese stick on the ground. Adam toddled over, picked it up, and started gnawing on it.
Five second rule, Laura thought absentmindedly.
“Could—could you repeat that, Josie? I don’t think I quite heard you right.”
“My mom fucked two college hockey players in an airplane bathroom,” Josie said slowly.
“Okay,” Laura said faintly. “I did hear you right the first time.”
“See? I’d rather be peed on than deal with this shit. Hell, I’d rather have Darla glue her anus to my bathroom wall again than watch my mother’s naked body come through the luggage carousel at the Portland airport.”
Laura’s eyes bugged out of her head. “That happened?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Josie asked, her voice filled with incredulity.
“Cyndi got food poisoning. We’re on our own this week. I don’t have time to read the back of a cereal box or watch anything on television other than Bubble Guppies, so no. No, I haven’t been watching the news.”
“Well, my mom got her fifteen minutes of fame.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Meribeth’s been great, though. We’re in Portland making some final decisions about flowers before we head up north to the campground.” Josie’s voice sounded weird. Laura couldn’t put her finger on it.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m juggling last-minute questions about chocolate flavors for the dipping fountain along with calls from bail bondsmen, Laura. No. Not okay.”
Laura sighed, the sound meant to convey sympathy. “I wish I were in Portland with you.”
“When do you guys leave?”
“Tomorrow. Cyndi got food poisoning and we’ll come tomorrow. She’ll head up the next day, assuming she’s still on the mend.”
“And if she’s not?”
“We’ll postpone Paris.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Me, too, but what else can we do? Dylan’s parents aren’t able to handle all three kids alone. The kids are super-attached to Cyn
di, and it’ll be hard enough for them to have me, Mike and Dylan gone for a week. I’d rather lose our hotel and plane ticket money for bailing at the last minute than spend all our time on our honeymoon worrying about the kids.”
“I get it. I really do.”
Josie sounded so...deflated.
Laura sat up.
“I’m coming. Now.”
“I really don’t need to know this much about your sex life.”
“WHAT?” Laura’s brain shifted gears until she got the joke. “Ha ha.” At least this was more like the old Josie Laura knew. “I mean I’m getting in the car this afternoon and coming to Portland. Now. Mike and the guys can follow.”
“You—what?”
“You need a friend.”
“I need a good defense lawyer for my mom.”
“Sorry. I never went to law school. Can’t be a lawyer. I know how to be a good friend, though.”
“You know how to be a great friend.”
Laura could feel Josie’s smile through the phone, and that meant Josie was right.
Laura was a great friend.
“So give me a few hours to explain it all to the guys and the kids, pack up, and get on the road. What hotel are you at in Portland?”
Josie named a nice, upscale boutique hotel on the water that Laura had heard of. “I’ll reserve you a room,” Josie said. “And we can go out to dinner. Did you know there’s a store here where they sell nothing but flavored pop?”
“Flavored popsicles?”
“No. Pop. You know...soda.” Josie’s midwestern roots showed sometimes.
“Can’t wait to get there and see.”
“Hey, Laura?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. You—it’s like you can read my mind and figure out exactly what I need. Only there’s no sex involved.”
“Um, I guess that’s a compliment?”
“It is.”
“You’re so weird, Josie.”
“I know.”
“I like weird.”
“As if you have a choice.”
Laura hummed as she got off the phone, and as she turned around to go find Mike and Dylan, she was greeted by a trail of cheese stick wrappers. Following it, she found all three kids sitting in a toy bin, the toys scattered everywhere, Jillian clutching a 48-pack of cheese sticks that now held one.
One.
It had been full when Laura opened it fifteen minutes ago.
“Where are all the cheese sticks?” Laura asked her.
Jillian pointed to her mouth, Adam’s mouth, and Aaron’s mouth. All three looked like chipmunks stuffing their cheeks for winter. Laura looked behind the couch. About fifteen cheese sticks rested on the ground, like cream-colored Lincoln Logs.
“Jilly, no!” Laura took the bag from her daughter, snatched up all the cheese sticks from behind the couch, and began counting. Seventeen accounted for.
How had three children eaten thirty-one cheese sticks so fast?
Dylan shouted from the other room: “Why are there cheese sticks in the heating grate and oh, God, are those my car keys again?”
Big, fat tears filled Jillian’s eyes. She said nothing. Adam and Aaron chewed. Adam grinned at Laura.
“I sorry, Mama.”
“You can’t do this, Jillian.” Laura shook the bag of cheese sticks.
“I wanted to help. Aaron was hungry.”
“Aaron can’t talk yet, so how did you know he was hungry?”
“He said, ‘May I please have some cheese, Jillian.’” The little girl’s sincerity through the lie was so adorable Laura almost laughed.
Almost.
“Guh!” Adam actually said, reaching into his mouth, pulling out a wad of unchewed cheese, and holding it out in one plump little fist for Laura to take.
Dylan came into the room and looked at the kids, then Laura. “What’s up?”
Romance, she thought.
“We’re having a cheese stick crisis,” she explained.
He blinked, mouth twitching with amusement, and looked at each child. “How many?”
“Thirty-one.”
He handed her the contents of one hand. “Well, here are eight more. So that’s twenty-three missing.”
“If the three of them ate an average of eight cheese sticks each, there goes dinner.”
“It’s not a big deal, Laura.”
“Who put a cheese stick in my running shoe?” Mike called out from the front door landing. He was dressed in summer running clothes, which for Mike meant shorts, socks, and shoes, with a t-shirt slung over his shoulder.
“I was on the phone for less than ten minutes! How could they get these everywhere?” Laura cried out.
“Ninjas. We have three little cheese ninjas,” Dylan said in a dramatic voice, making Jillian giggle.
Josie’s words about having kids crept into Laura’s mind. Three and a half years ago she would never have envisioned her life quite like this. Guarding an oversized bag of Costco cheese sticks and mercenarily questioning her toddlers over the contents.
What the hell was she doing?
“Here,” she said, thrusting the bag in Mike’s hands and sprinting out the door, welcoming the hot, humid weather with the blessed relief of experiencing some kind of change that shocked her out of herself. Being in charge of three kids was more than enough for three adults. You would think one-on-one would be enough, but it wasn’t. The children seemed to multiply, as if the sum of the three of them were greater when you put them in the same room.
And then there was the wedding.
Josie was her best friend in the world. These past two years since all the guys had proposed were filled with her pregnancy, the surprise of having twins, the delight of the babies, and the relentless joy of planning the double wedding.
And yet.
In the corners of Laura’s mind, where dark thoughts lived, a jealous little green monster crouched in the shadows, hissing and grunting, just there...coming out at times to groan and wiggle and make itself known.
Josie would actually marry Alex in three days. They would be husband and wife.
Laura? Laura had to pretend.
Dylan and Mike were husband and husband. On paper, anyway. They never, ever talked about what happened that day at the Cambridge courthouse, when they’d taken care of the necessity of legal protection for Jillian. Having her two dads—one biological, one not—marry each other had given the three adults some breathing space as fears of a legal system gone awry in the event of Laura’s death were assuaged.
After the twins had come out, as dark as Jillian was fair, it had been obvious: Mike was Jillian’s biological father, while Dylan had fathered the twins. A short talk with Josie, the only person in Laura’s life who had seen the birth certificates, confirmed it.
Truth be told, Laura, Mike and Dylan had known Jillian was of Mike’s blood for a long time. Waiting until they’d had more children, and especially knowing each man had fathered at least one child (bonus—two in one shot for Dylan, as he liked to say...), had changed the calculus of their daily lives in more ways than one.
They’d all relaxed. The power balance in the relationship seemed more smoothed out. If you had asked them three years ago whether the children’s paternity mattered, they’d all three have argued until red in the face that it didn’t matter.
It hadn’t.
Until it did.
As Laura fairly ran down the well-worn path through the woods, away from the cabin, she let these thoughts loop through her mind, the cheese sticks long forgotten, the thousands of tiny details about the wedding all on pause.
Josie would be Alex’s wife.
And Laura would just be the same as she ever was to Mike and Dylan in the eyes of the law.
Nothing.
Chapter Six
Dylan
He watched as the long, flowing skirt Laura now wore billowed out behind her, gauzy and mysterious, like something almost gothic. Almost four years together and he still hardened
at the sight of her sometimes, her beauty more captivating as their life together deepened and matured.
Through thick and thin, she had been so loving, so stalwart, her joy for life and ability to go with the flow such a wonderful gift. Dylan observed Laura as the woods swallowed her, walked into the living room, and found a very perplexed Mike holding a bag of cheese sticks designed to feed an entire Boy Scout troop.
“What’s going on?” he asked as Adam struggled to take off his diaper. They’d recently learned to put it on backwards, so the toddler couldn’t remove it. Adam grunted with frustration.
“Laura. She’s...I don’t know.” Mike surveyed the chaos. “I think she needs one of us to go after her. She seemed really upset.”
“I’ll go,” Dylan volunteered, less out of a desire to escape the craziness of the kids and driven more by something primal.
Mike sensed it and just nodded.
Nearly a decade and a half with him had only gotten better, too. Dylan counted himself a lucky man. He slipped on his shoes and jogged out the door, glad he was wearing a lightweight Lycra tank and running shorts, for the late-summer Massachusetts air was stifling.
Three days. In three days, they would be at a giant wedding, a celebration in public that solidified what Laura, Mike and Dylan had in private. Marrying Mike two years ago hadn’t been a real wedding for him, and neither man wanted it to be. It had been a trick. A legal trick to protect Jillian, and nothing more.
Marrying Laura should be legal, he thought. But if it wasn’t, this was as close as they could get.
He caught up to her easily, finding her next to a tiny stream that ran beside the path, an old tree having fallen, creating a small bridge. Jillian loved to stand on the rotting log and throw small stones into the water. Laura sat on it, shoes next to her, feet dangling so low her toes skimmed the water’s surface. Her flowing skirt covered the decaying log, the contrast making her look like a woodland fairy.
“Hi,” he said softly, trying not to startle her.
She looked up and gave him a sad smile. “Hi.”
“You want to be alone?”
Her smile was shaky, upper lip trembling.
