by Kendall Ryan
"You're not a prick, Dominic. You're human. We mess up sometimes." My voice is soft and I meet his eyes, amazed at all the emotion I see reflected back at me.
"That's putting it mildly," he murmurs.
I shake my head. "Don't you think I have regrets? That whole thing with Austin—signing up for Allure?" I’d done plenty of stupid things to jeopardize our future too.
His hand slides from my cheek to cup the back of my neck, his warm fingers sinking into my hair. "Let's start over then. We can't run from our mistakes, but we can put them behind us."
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all week.” I grin at him, the knot of worry in my chest totally gone now.
“How are you so confident about all of this relationship shit?” He chuckles when we part for a shaky breath. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Oh God, neither do I,” I admit. “Does this make me a stepmom? I’m not sure if I would be a good stepmom, or even a mom, for that matter. I want to be, but I—”
“You’re just Presley. That’s all they want.” He uses his thumb to wipe a stray tear from my cheek. “That’s all I want.”
“I may be bad at it,” I whisper. Part of me knows I should be terrified, but the thing is, it’s so easy when I’m with them.
He leans in to kiss me again. It’s slow and sweet and affectionate. Then he whispers against my lips, “I find it very hard to believe that there’s anything you’re not good at.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dominic
Four months later
Presley, Francine, and I are in the kitchen, taking turns cooking and diverting the twins away from the myriad hot and pointy objects in play, when the doorbell rings.
“Go ahead. I’ve got things under control here,” Francine says.
I glance up from tending my potful of bubbling potatoes. “You sure?”
“Of course—you’re the hosts. Now shoo, dearies.” She flicks her hand at us with a smile.
We answer the door to a young man I recognize from photos as Presley’s brother, and an affable-looking guy with brown eyes and a mop of unruly black curls.
“Thank you for coming. I’m Dominic.”
Michael shakes my hand, and when he smiles, I can see the resemblance between him and Presley right away. They share the same curious blue eyes and high cheekbones. “Thanks for the invite. This is Elijah.”
“Make yourselves at home,” I say, stepping aside to let them in.
Presley hugs Michael and pecks him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving with my big sister,” he replies with a grin.
“And Elijah,” she says, smiling. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things.”
“Then they’re all true,” Elijah says.
Michael shoots a grin at the other boy that’s so adoring, I almost expect cartoon hearts to float up around their heads.
Ah, young love . . . wait, did I really just think that? Dammit, being a dad has made me prematurely old.
Her eyes sparkling, Presley leans toward Michael. “Are you two exclusive yet?”
“Sis . . .” Michael groans, like the teenager he so recently was.
“We’re glad you’re here,” I say. Everyone smiles and the awkwardness dissolves, which is what I was hoping for. I shake Elijah’s hand too. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you for having me, Mr. Aspen,” he replies.
Points for politeness. “Please, call me Dominic. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes—”
“Half an hour,” Francine yells from the kitchen. “It’s a big old bird.”
“What she said. But you can have some appetizers while you wait.”
Francine makes a noise of surprise, and I’m hoping she didn’t just chop off her finger or something.
“Presley, can you show them to the dining room while I go get that?”
“You have a whole dining room in your apartment?” Michael asks, wide-eyed.
“I know, right? This place is huge,” Presley says as she leads them off.
After checking on Francine (it was merely an excited squeal because her gravy is perfect), I bring in a plate of appetizers to set on the table. Lacey and Emilia follow me, but at the sight of strangers, they hide behind my legs, too shy to come forward, yet too curious to scurry back to Francine.
“Meet my daughters, Emilia and Lacey.” I point to each twin as I say her name.
Michael and Elijah squat down to greet the girls with friendly smiles.
“Hi, guys,” Michael says. “Nice to meet you. I’m Presley’s brother, Michael, and this is my boyfriend, Elijah.”
“You’re a boy,” Lacey says, poking her head out.
Grinning, Elijah nods. “I sure am.”
“Why?” Emilia asks.
“That’s a fantastically complicated question.” Elijah chuckles. “Guess I should’ve brought my Gender Studies textbook.”
Michael explains. “Sometimes love just works like that. Anybody can love anybody.”
The girls think about that for a moment, then nod, apparently satisfied.
“If only it were that easy with Dad,” Presley jokes.
Michael rolls his eyes with a derisive laugh. “No kidding.”
I hum noncommittally. “Let’s go take over for Francine. She’ll insist she doesn’t need any help, but she deserves a break.”
Presley and I head back into the kitchen to resume mashing potatoes, simmering cranberry relish, and prepping the pumpkin pie for baking. Through the doorway leading into the dining room, we can catch glimpses of my girls entertaining our guests, and hear snippets of conversation and laughter.
“This is nice,” Presley murmurs. “Having the apartment full and busy, I mean. I wouldn’t want to do it every day, but it’s so . . . cozy.”
I drop a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, it really feels like a home.”
When there’s another knock on the door, I scramble to wash my hands.
“I’ll get it,” I say, my heart beating a little faster. I’m pretty confident I’ve planned this well, but now that the moment is actually here, it’s nerve-racking, mostly because I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing.
I open the door. “George?” I’ve never seen him in person before. I can tell where Presley gets her nose from.
The thin, gray-haired man on my threshold nods. “And you must be Dominic. Very nice place you got here.”
When I lead him into the dining room, Presley stops in midsentence and goes as rigid as a statue. Michael takes a step back, and Elijah grabs his hand. At everyone else’s reactions, Francine stands up protectively, and the girls zip to her side, wary.
“How did you know where we were?” Presley says in the coldest tone I’ve ever heard from her.
George offers an uncertain, placating half smile. “Dominic invited me.”
She whips around to stare at me. “Wait, you did what?”
Shit, she can be intimidating when she wants to be. It’s almost enough to make me flinch—and also a tiny bit hot, but let’s not go there right now.
“He has an apology for you,” I say.
Her shock and anger rapidly drain away to bewilderment. She looks back at her father. “You . . . do?”
Solemn, he nods, sucking his teeth. “Dominic called me a week or two ago. He helped me see that I have two kids I’m immensely proud of. I’m sorry I lost sight of that with your mom gone. I lost my way and I fu—” He glances down at the girls, clinging to Francine’s legs. “I did nothing but let my children down. I promise I’ll try harder and do better from now on.”
Presley’s expression softens a little. “Mom’s death was hard on all of us. And while you did hurt us both, we still love you.” She chews her lip. “But if you can’t accept Michael for who he is, then this isn’t going to work. That’s a deal breaker for us both.”
Hesitant, George looks over at Michael and Elijah, who are keeping their f
aces neutral but are gripping each other’s hands so tightly their knuckles are white. Presley watches the three of them with wary eyes, like she’s ready to throw herself in front of a bullet if need be.
Finally, George extends his hand to Elijah. “As long as you treat my son well, we’re good.”
Everyone smiles in relief, and Michael releases a huge breath, tears threatening to fall. Elijah shakes George’s offered hand with the one that’s not still clutching Michael’s.
The girls creep forward shyly, and Lacey tugs on George’s pant leg.
“You’re Grandpa?”
Presley and I gawk at Lacey, then each other, then George, who’s equally confused. The other three adults stifle a laugh.
Her lips twitching, Francine says, “Now, sweetheart . . .”
“I can sure try.” George looks back to us. “Only if you two are okay with that, of course.”
“Uhhh,” we both say.
“They’re your kids, so it’s your call,” Presley tells me.
Drop the whole decision on me, why don’t ya. She’s practically their stepmom already, but I don’t want to get into that discussion in front of everyone.
I rub my chin, musing. “I guess we can do a trial run.”
George turns back to the girls with a smile. “Looks like the answer is yes.”
“I’m hungry,” Emilia reminds us.
I scoop her up onto my hip. “An excellent point, darling. Let’s eat!”
• • •
Late into the night, my home remained so full of joy, light, and warmth, eating and drinking and laughter. Now the guests have gone, the halls are dark, my girls sleeping peacefully down the hall. Presley and I are curled up together in my bed . . . and this feels like family too.
“Are we going to talk about your surprise today? What made you think of it?” Presley asks, her head pillowed on my chest.
I run my fingers through her elegant spill of dark hair. Her relationship with her father is something that has been on my mind for a long time, actually. Maybe it’s because I’m a dad now as well and could never imagine not having a relationship with my daughters. But it was more than that too.
“Well, I never got a chance to reconcile with my father . . . or protect my brother . . . but I figured I could still help you with yours.”
She props herself on her elbow to stroke my stubbled cheek, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dominic.”
I still don’t know how to handle it when she looks at me like that, when I can see the full, overwhelming depth of what she feels for me. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s in the past.”
“The past can still hurt,” she says softly.
“It can. But I have a present to take care of . . . and a future to look forward to.”
We lie together for a while, just enjoying each other’s warm solidarity. Then, in a much lighter tone, she asks, “So, what on earth did you say to convince my dad?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets,” I say, not because I actually don’t want to tell her, but because I want to make her laugh.
She does and nudges me in the ribs playfully. “Oh, come on, I’m dying to know. Dad almost never apologizes.”
“Well, I said a lot of things—some of which I can’t repeat in front of the girls—but I think what did the trick was finding some common ground. I told him I’m a single father too, and I understand how hard it can be when your children’s mother isn’t there, and how easy it is for your life to get out of hand. But if he lets these family relationships go, he’ll regret it until the day he dies.”
Blinking fast, she sniffles wetly.
“Are you oka—”
Her fervent kiss cuts me off. “I love you so much,” she says hoarsely, squeezing me tight.
My heart soars to the heavens, as it always does every time I hear those words. “I love you too,” I murmur against her lips.
To think, barely any time ago I never would have let myself think that, let alone say it out loud. But now I can. Every hour of every day until forever ends.
She kisses me again, hungry and joyful, and I answer with everything I have. Our touches quickly turn from sweet to hot, and soon I’m helping Presley push her pajama bottoms off.
“Can’t wake the kids,” she says, already breathless under me.
“I can keep quiet if you can.” I nip at her neck.
She makes a torn, needy noise. “I’ll try.”
Sliding into her is yet another kind of coming home. We rock together, slow and sensual, as if we have all the time in the world—because now we do. I marvel at that knowledge, luxuriate in it, in her body and her moans and the love shining from her eyes.
“Y-you’re not making this easy,” she pants.
“Sorry. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.” I kiss her, sealing in our sounds of pleasure, and repeat the move until she’s clutching at my back and whimpering into my mouth.
I thrust faster, harder, and she bucks up to meet me. My hands run over her hungrily, caressing every inch of skin I can reach. My whole body is tensing, nerves sparking, so intense, and it’s clear she’s quickly getting closer too. Her muffled moans come louder and more urgent, washing heat over me. With every second, I fall deeper into Presley until nothing else exists.
Suddenly, her trembling turns into full-body quakes. At the sensation of her arching and writhing beneath me, clenching in waves around my cock, I can’t hold out any longer. Pleasure sweeps over me like a tsunami—with a long, rough-edged groan, I follow her over the edge. When our bliss ebbs away, I wrap her in my arms.
As we lay entwined, sated and tired and content, our eyes meet, and I can see the promise of a vast new future spread out before us. Whatever comes next, I will never be the same again. And I’m so ready.
I nuzzle into her neck. “Hey . . . can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?” she mumbles sleepily.
“Do you want to, um, move in with me?”
She sits up and stares at me, blinking. Then a smile spreads across her face that’s so beautiful, it almost stops my heart.
“Are you serious?”
“Completely,” I say, returning her smile. “I want you here with me. With the girls.”
She chews on her lip, considering this. “But do you think it will be okay, I mean . . .”
I quiet her by taking her hand and guiding her lips to mine. “They love you, Presley, almost as much as I do. It’s going to be perfect.”
Her eyes find mine, and she looks so happy that it makes my heart clench. “Then I’d love to.”
Epilogue
Dominic
Three years later
The girls said we could drop them off at the school’s curb and Presley thirded the motion, saying the building wasn’t that big. But I vetoed that idea. No way am I going to abandon them to fumble their own way to their classroom. Maybe in a few weeks . . . or years . . . but definitely not today.
It’s their very first day of kindergarten, after all. The first time they’ve been away from home all day long without me, Presley, or Francine.
As we escort them through the halls, I’m fidgeting like crazy, twisting my wedding ring around and around my finger. “You sure you’ve got your lunches in your backpacks? You know what to do if you need to come home?”
“Call Franny,” Emilia answers dutifully. Lacey is already distracted, taking in the colorful posters and noisy crowd all around us with a wide-eyed grin.
“And do you remember her number?”
“Um . . .”
“Dom,” Presley says. “Relax. The teacher has Francine’s number. And our numbers, and their pediatrician’s, and the National Guard’s . . .”
I frown. “I know that. It’s just an extra precaution.”
“And this is just a school—a private school, even,” she says. “It’s only until three. Francine will pick them up and take them home, and we’ll see them again tonight.”
“You say ‘only three,
’ but that’s six hours away. What if they miss us during the day? What if they need help using the potty? What if the other kids are mean? What if they don’t eat their lunch? You know they’ve been so picky lately. What if—”
Presley squeezes my shoulder, loving but firm. “Honey. Chill out. Stop acting like we’re throwing them to the wolves.”
“Wolves? Can I see?” Emilia asks.
“It’s only a figure of speech, honey. The only wolves around here are at the zoo.”
“I’m perfectly chill,” I say, frowning. “But we have to be sure they’re ready.”
“Somehow I don’t think they’re the ones who aren’t ready,” Presley teases. “Seriously, they can handle it. They’re more than old enough, and they did great in preschool.”
“But preschool was only a half day. This might—”
“I’m a big girl,” Lacey says.
“Yes, you are, sweet pea. I quite agree.” Presley squats down. “Show me on your hands?”
After thinking for a few moments, Lacey holds up five fingers.
“And how many is that?”
Lacey says, “Five,” at the same instant Emilia answers for her. “Five!”
Presley shoots a smile back over her shoulder at me before asking them, “And how much do Mommy and Daddy and Franny love you?”
“Infinity!” they both shout, flinging their arms open wide.
“Absolutely right.” She hugs them, then stands up again. “See? They’re rocket scientists.” She lays her hand gently on my arm. “We always knew we’d have to let go sometime.”
Throwing her arms around my hips, Emilia says, “Don’t cry, Daddy.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna be okay!” Lacey says, trying to reassure me.
I have to laugh at how thoroughly we’ve switched roles here. “Thanks, you two. But for your information, I’m not crying. A bug just flew into my eye.” I wipe my sleeve across my face.
Shit. I am totally about to cry. What’s happening to me?
