Or maybe that’s the crab cake I just ate?
My eyes shift back and forth a couple of times between the two.
Nope, it’s them.
Just as I’m about to start making up background stories for them in my head to keep myself entertained, my attention is captured by a pair of light green eyes that call to me like a beacon through the crowd. I watch Blake gesture towards the office, the real office, and I shoot up so quickly out of my chair that the screech it makes on the floor causes Harlow to jump, and half her wine slushes out of her glass onto the table. She shoots me the evil eye.
“Serves you right, lush.” I push my chair under the table, making it squeal even louder just because I feel like irking her. Trace laughs out loud and she glares even harder at me, the narrowed eyes and tight lips only succeeding in making me giggle. I lean down, quietly whispering in her ear, “I’m going to see my man. I took your advice and found my happy ending. Be sure to give Trace his tonight.” Her face relaxes as she covers her mouth and giggles. Lush.
I can only shake my head before leaving them on their own. Most likely to do things I absolutely don’t want to think about.
Making my way through the crowd, I stop to offer several nice-to-meet-yous and thank-you-for-comings before finally making my way to the office. I breathe deeply through my nose in an attempt to calm my hormones, which seem to be raging all of a sudden. I run a quick hand check over my hair—not really sure why—and reach for the door. Finally letting the air in my lungs escape, I try to clear my mind of all the dirty thoughts that seem to be taking over my brain, but as I fling the door open, all control is lost. I find myself trying to reel that air back because all of a sudden I’m finding it very difficult to breath.
My eyes have latched themselves onto Blake, who’s leaning against the front of his desk, feet and arms crossed in front of him. He’s wearing that sexy lopsided smile that means only one thing; the one thing I haven’t been able to get off my mind since my first sight of him at the lake earlier this evening. My heart begins to race, my breathing picks up, finally, and my body begins pulsating with every previously evicted dirty thought breaking back into my mind.
I close the door quickly and lock it as soon as it shuts. Wearing my own sexy grin—at least I hope it’s sexy—my feet carry me to where he’s standing on their own accord. He uncrosses his legs and I step right in between them, pressing my waist against him, and placing my forearms onto the tops of his shoulders. Cupping his hands on my bottom, he pulls me closer to him, and my breath hitches in my throat. I feel him harden, and the pressure building between our bodies causes the insides of my thighs to throb.
Moving my hands to his lower back, I grab fistfuls of his nicely starched, now untucked, shirt and pull him close. He sucks in a ragged breath, and reaches down to hook my leg, hastily pulling it up to his waist.
My body falls forward, placing us as close as intimately possible, and the friction from the movement causes us both to gasp as the same time. We stare at each other, panting, eyes locked onto one another. Finally, after the most sexually stimulating standoff ever, he finally lowers his head and places his full lips on mine. I feel his mouth open and I graze my tongue along his teeth, teasing him. Still holding my leg, he moves his free arm around my waist, pulling me in as tightly as he can.
“Mommy! Are you in there? I need to tell you something!” Rylie bangs on the door. The heart that was previously thrumming from sexual need is now pounding inside my chest from near cardiac arrest.
I plant my head into Blake’s chest as he continues to slowly grind his body into mine. “Rylie! I’m talking to Blake! Can’t Harlow or Grandma Nancy help you?” I shout back. “Or anyone else in the freakin’ world…” I mutter into his shirt. I feel his shoulders begin to shake with laughter as my heart rate slowly returns to a normal speed.
“No, Mommy. I need to talk to you!” I hear her movements just outside the door and then silence. Good. Hopefully she decided to take this matter up with someone else.
“Mommy, I can see your feet,” she giggles. “How come you only have one foot?” Blake drops my leg and his shoulders shake even harder now as he unsuccessfully tries to contain his amusement with this situation. I let out a deep sigh.
“It’s not funny, Blake.” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a long breath, something he only does when frustrated, although usually it’s because of me. Still, he’s smiling, so that’s a good sign.
I hear the door jiggle and I turn to see Rylie’s little fingers waving at me from underneath. Blake lets out another laugh, clearly not as irritated as I am. “Oh, there’s your other foot! I didn’t see it before!”
Just as I’m about to let out a blood curdling scream, Blake places both hands on the sides of my face. “Look at me, Alex. It’s fine. We have all weekend. Go talk to her. You won’t see her for a couple of days.” I dramatically roll my eyes in response to his annoyingly cool demeanor.
“Fine. But this is entirely your fault, calling me in here for something we can’t finish.” Blake chuckles once again.
“Oh, we’ll finish. Multiple times.” Putting both hands on my shoulders, he turns my body towards the door. Reluctantly, I take the steps necessary to cease this wonderfully sensual moment and unlock the door, turning the handle to open it once I’m sure her fingers are in the clear.
Jumping up and down, Rylie flashes me a panic stricken face. She spastically motions for me to lean down and I begrudgingly lower myself as she cups her hands over her mouth and my ear. “Umm…Umm” she breathes heavily. I have no choice but to giggle like a small child and wipe my ear on my shoulder. I can’t help it. I have the same reaction every time. It’s my kryptonite.
Once I’m able to maintain a straight face, I ask her, “What is it, Rylie? Are you okay?”
“Umm, Mommy…I have to go potty.” Her neck shrinks down as her shoulders raise, and after a lift of her eyebrows, an apologetic half-smile splays across her face.
“Potty!” I shout. And that does it. Blake lets out a roar of laughter, adding a few snorts for effect. Mature.
I straighten back to my original standing position and grab her little hand. I don’t even bother to look back at him as I guide my baby down the hall to the bathroom.
Payback is a bitch, my dear. He’s gonna get his later tonight.
And he does…multiple times.
Boxes. Everywhere. A sea of brown squares with handwritten labels reading, “Movies”, “Pics”, and “Kitchen Utensils”, among many other things, line the walls of my already tiny living room. I’m starting to feel a bit claustrophobic.
Hands on my hips, I let out a long exhale, blowing the hair out of my face. That’s the last box I’m doing tonight. I’m freakin’ wiped.
Just as I begin to bend over and attempt to pick up the one I just labeled “Books”, my attention is redirected to the room Nycole and Kyndall share. Giggles and Blake’s low murmur pique my curiosity. Setting the Sharpie down on top of the box, I begin taking steps toward their room but turn back quickly, only to pick the marker up and place it on the bar. All I need is for Rylie to get a hold of that thing.
I make my way down the now bare hallway, and as the laughter of my girls gets louder, the corners of my mouth begin to lift. Once I’m outside their door, I barely push it open, so it’s just slightly cracked. Peeking in, I can’t help but giggle.
Blake lying with his stomach flat on the floor, raised up onto his elbows, with Nycole and Kyndall sitting in front of him, and Rylie perched on the backs of his outstretched legs. She picks up his feet so that they are in the air, and hugs his boots while he pulls her back and forth, and side to side, trying to get her to fall off. She screams with excitement every time he changes direction, and even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s grinning from ear to ear. I raise my hand to my mouth, covering my own smile.
Rylie looks up to see me in the doorway. She raises her hand to wave, but when Bl
ake’s feet change direction, she loses her grip around his ankles and topples over onto the floor. Giggling, she pushes herself up, jumps back onto his legs, and pulls his boots back into her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly. Jeez, how long has this been going on?
Kyndall suddenly bursts into laughter. I watch as the girls try to teach Blake to make a bow out of colored duct tape. When duct tape became popular, I have no idea. It must have been over the last two months when I was replaced by a narcoleptic, cheese and orange juice craving zombie.
Literally, I would be speaking to Blake or the girls, and then…snore.
Out.
Like a light.
For hours.
Only to wake up and find the girls’ bathed, their teeth brushed and hair brushed, and already put to bed, all while I was dozing and drooling on the couch. I feel incredibly guilty that he barely had a chance to get used to married life before I was struck by the constant need for sleep during my first trimester. But, that being said, the smile on his face right now tells me he didn’t mind too much.
“Blake!” Kyndall shouts through her laughter, “What’s that supposed to be?” I giggle again as I watch Rylie land on the floor before jumping back up. I think she actually bounced a couple of times.
“What? It’s a bow, Kyndall. Mine looks just like yours and Nycole’s.” I glance to the hot pink crumpled up piece of tape in his hand. It looks nothing like the perfectly shaped bows my daughters fashioned. “No it doesn’t, Blake!” Nycole laughs, then sighs. “Okay, let’s try it again.”
I watch Blake’s determined expression as he tries to master the impossible. I stifle a laugh when his lime green attempt looks worse than the first. “I don’t see the difference, but beauty, my dear Nycole, is in the eye of the beholder.” He places the tape in his hair and I can’t contain it any longer. I push the door open and giggle when Blake turns to face me. It’s sickening really, how he can still look breathtakingly sexy with a piece of crumpled duct tape hanging from a strand of his hair, swinging in front of his face.
“I saw you, Mommy! But I didn’t tell!” Rylie jumps off his legs and attacks mine with a fierce hug before running out of the room, undoubtedly on a Sharpie hunt. Shaking my head, my eyes follow her down the hall before turning back to Blake. I totally should have put it on top of the fridge.
Rolling onto his back, he threads his hands behind that gorgeous head of light brown hair, and as I watch his stomach muscles tighten under his shirt, I find myself wanting to sit right on top of him. “Mama, you should make one too. I bet yours will be perfect!” Kyndall extends her arm, purple tape in hand. “No, not right now, lovely lady. Pizza is about to arrive and then…fireworks!”
“Fireworks!” I hear Rylie scream from the other room. Nycole and Kyndall jump up and run to join their sister, leaving slithers of tape all over the floor, along with the scissors. Because that’s safe.
I sit myself down by Blake’s head and run my fingers through his hair. Removing the “bow”, I bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead before starting to clean up their mess. Grabbing my hand before I have a chance to do anything, he places a gentle kiss on my palm. “They should do that, you know,” Blake states softly as I extract my hand from his. Okay—the tape on the floor is really starting to bother me now.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I do it all the time.” I use my nails to grab the edges before pulling it up from the carpet, along with a long brown strand of curly hair. Gross. How much hair is actually down here? Nevermind, I don’t want to know.
Blake watches me for a bit. “I know you don’t mind, but they should do it, regardless.” His eyebrows lift, adding emphasis to his point.
Gah! I so don’t feel like accepting parental suggestions right now. This is how things are in my house, the way they have been for a long time. If I don’t mind, what’s the problem? “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I respond. “They’ve always done this, Blake. It’s probably impossible to retrain them now anyway.” I’m starting to get aggravated with this whole situation.
Blake sits up and tilts his head at me, narrowing his eyes. “Weird. They have no problem cleaning up after themselves when I ask them to. Maybe you should try it?”
“Maybe.” I can feel my cheeks flush from irritation. Not wanting to fight, I speed through my cleaning spree and, while still seated, I lean over once again. When I place my lips onto his, his kiss is tight and unaffectionate.
He’s pissed. Great. Now I’m pissed.
Standing up, I wipe off my bottom—who knows how much Nycole and Kyndall hair attached itself while I was down there—and extend my hand to help him up. He accepts it, but doesn’t say a word as he leaves the room.
What. The. Hell?
I stay in their bedroom for a while, folding socks, hanging clothes, making the bed. Anything to avoid arguing with Blake. Once I run out of things to straighten and clean, I leave the room, my nose following the smell of the already delivered pepperoni and cheese pizzas. Stepping into the living room, I see Kyndall, standing in front of the T.V., mouthing—with perfect timing I might add—Gru’s lines from Despicable Me, when he announces his plan to steal the moon. Her movements and facial expressions are comical, and with everyone sitting on the floor picnic style, she is provided the perfect front row audience.
Taking a seat beside Blake, we all watch the free entertainment. Arms over his propped knees, holding a slice of pizza, Blake’s face is peaceful, no longer marked with the tensions from earlier. I lean into his side and look up at him because sometimes I just find it hard not to stare. His eyes meet mine, and in the light I note his sharp jaw and the light scruff lining it. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into his body, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. I wipe it off because I also noted a lot of grease around those full lips earlier. Giving me his sexy chuckle, he grins and then returns his attention to Kyndall’s performance.
And in that moment, all is forgiven.
I think.
After dinner, I grab the pizza boxes and start carrying them to the kitchen, when Blake steps in front of me, removing them from my hands. Smiling appreciatively, I automatically turn to resume my clean-up of the living room. As soon as I reach the coffee table and start to pick up the paper plates, I hear Blake’s voice booming from the kitchen. “Girls, why don’t you help your mom clean up, huh?” I hate to tell him they’ve already disappeared and most likely won’t reappear until about two minutes before we leave for fireworks at the lake. I really need to figure out their super, secret hidey hole. I would like to use it now and then.
“It’s okay, Blake, I’ve got it. It’s just a couple of paper plates.” He pokes his head out from the kitchen, exhaling a long sigh that catches my attention as I’m sure he intended. “Not the point, Alex.”
“I really don’t feel like getting into this with you again.” We lock eyes and it’s a long while before he breaks our stare. “Fine. Whatever.” I hear the trash bag shuffling around and rush to grab the plates. On a mission, I speed toward the kitchen, hoping to sneak them in there before he takes it out, and nearly trip over the “Books” box I packed earlier. “Damn it,” I hiss. My poor toe is throbbing.
Setting the plates on the counter, my hand remains on the bar, supplying balance while I rub my foot. “Stupid box.” I try to shove it with my pulsating foot which does absolutely no good. Damn it.
I bend at the waist in preparation to move the box. Wrapping my arms around the sides, I breathe out a long breath before lifting; I have a feeling it’s going to be heavy because I packed a lot of books inside. Just when I start to raise my body, I hear, “Alex! What the hell? Let me do that!”
Blake slams the trash bag down and stalks his way over to me and my box. I let go and turn to face him. “Blake, I’ve–”
“Yeah, I know, you’ve got it,” he says. “But, if you don’t mind, for my own peace of mind, would you please just let me move it?”
�
�Don’t you think you’re being a tad overprotective? I mean, I have done this child-bearing thing before, you know,” I say, gesturing towards the girls’ bedrooms.
“No. I don’t. At all.” Blake exhales a small breath, trying to calm himself. “Look, Alex. We’ve started this life, together. So, we eat together, we laugh together, we sleep together, and now we’re moving boxes together. I would like to take this one.”
I roll my eyes at his unacceptable use of sarcasm.
Fine.
I let him carry the stupid box. But, for the record, I didn’t need him to.
While he takes the garbage outside, I change clothes, now donning my red retro Coca-Cola t-shirt that doesn’t really fit me anymore, black capri yoga pants and flip flops. “Blake, are the girls ready?” I shout from the bedroom.
“Not sure! Let me check!”
Grabbing my purse off the bed, I step into the living room to wait for the magical reappearance of my kiddos from Narnia, or wherever it is they always disappear to. After about five minutes, I’m getting a little irritated. Fireworks don’t last all night people.
Hearing Blake’s voice once again coming out of Nycole and Kyndall’s room, which evidently is where the cool kids hang out now, I once again find myself traveling down the hallway. Stepping towards their room, I hear Kyndall’s sweet little voice next. “This one is of me and Daddy.”
“That’s a great picture, Kyndall. You look so beautiful in it, and your Daddy looks very happy too. You should keep that one out so that you remember to put it in your new room.”
Kyndall stalls a little before answering. “You wouldn’t mind? I mean, if I had a picture of him in the new house?” I press against the door to watch their interaction. Both of them are sitting on Kyndall’s bed, with an old photo album she must have found while packing up her room. Her bare feet dangle off the side of the bed while the photo album rests in her lap. Blake sits next to her, watching her intently.
Recovery Page 4
