Sophia says her dad carries family traditions sacredly. I wonder if he is one of those old school Italians? The ones that want their daughters married before children- all holy and shit. Joe is a bulky little guy. Some guys would probably be shitting themselves right now. But I honestly don’t give a fuck what he thinks. Yeah, I like the guy, and have respect for him. Shit, anyone having to keep an eye on Sophia growing up earns fucking gold stars in my eyes.
Thea, though. I kind of wonder how she’ll take it. She’s not really a talkative person; she pretty much sits back and smiles, observing. A smile creeps across my face when I think of that woman’s reaction. I don’t think she’ll be sitting back quietly in the corner, but I don’t think she’ll really be pissed, either. I think Sophia is just psyching herself out on that score.
Rolling over on my side, I curl my arm around Sophia’s middle and pull her back against me. A small moan escapes her lips.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
My cock jerks. I haven’t had Sophia in a few days and I’m fucking feening right now. She wiggles against me in her sleep, her fine ass circling right where it feels fucking good, and hurts at the same time. I exhale deeply over her head. Some pieces of her long, brown hair blow with my breath.
************
“Merry Christmas!” Joe exclaims as he raises his coffee in the air.
“Merry Christmas, Dad.”
Sophia pulls away from my side and gives her dad a hug and a kiss on his cheek. He grins down at her.
“I had to test the water of you guys’ pool this morning.”
“Dad, it’s like in the fifties.”
“Yeah, and it’s heated,” he chuckles back,
Walking by them, I head for the kitchen. Between hardly getting any sleep last night, again, and the worst fucking case of blue balls, I just need to get some coffee in me.
Right when I step into the kitchen, I see Thea’s back turned to me.
“Morning, Tristan,” she says, already picking up that I’m in the kitchen.
She glances over her shoulder and gives me a small smile and a nod, then goes back to prepping the turkey.
“Good morning, Thea.” My voice comes out gruffly.
Clearing my throat, I pick up one of the coffee cups Sophia picked out yesterday and fill my cup, yawning as I do. Shit, I’m tired.
“Everything fine from last night?” Thea asks, stopping me right as the coffee was about to hit my lips. I bring the cup back down.
“Ah, everything’s fine.”
Pinching my eyebrows together, I stare at my black coffee before taking a drink.
“Well, that’s good,” she says, more to herself than me.
“Mama! I said I was gonna help with that.”
Sophia steps into the kitchen, pointing at the turkey. Damn, she’s beautiful, wearing a skintight gray cardigan whose buttons look like they’re fighting to keep it closed.
“That’s fine, I like doing this. Really.”
“Are you using those herbs I picked out?” asks Sophia.
Joe comes into the kitchen next, peeking over his wife’s shoulder.
“Remember, this isn’t for a ceremony. Don’t be afraid to use some salt,” he cackles in her ear and gives her ass a light pat.
This has the corner of my mouth rising. Sophia smiles at me then goes over to the fridge.
“I used salt, Joe.”
“Yeah, you say that, but just a couple grains of salt ain’t technically using it,” he teases her back.
Leaning my back against the counter, I reach over and set down my cup, folding my arms over my chest. Joe’s eyes look over me.
“Hey, Tristan. If you don’t mind me asking, how in the hell do you stay in shape like that?”
Sophia giggles. My cock jerks again. Those fucking giggles.
“Protein, lifting weights whenever I find time on tour, and trying not to booze too much.”
“Fuck. You make it sound easy.”
“Joe, stop swearing!” Thea says over her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves her off and goes back into the living room.
Lacing my fingers and giving my arms a good stretch behind my back, I figure I might as well leave, too. Sophia and her mom are going on with whatever’s been happening at home and I’m just off in the corner like a creep. Right as I’m walking out of the room, Sophia looks over her shoulder.
“What are you doing, baby?”
Stopping, I twist around to look at her.
“Grabbing a shower.”
Those blue eyes of hers sparkle. The look on her face says it all; she wants it.
Fuck. Better make that a cold shower.
Sophia
Do I have to do it now? Yes, I do. I can’t even believe that I humored the idea of waiting ‘til we got to the airport. What the fuck was I thinking?
Tristan’s eyes have been locked on mine during dinner, waiting to see if I was gonna break it to them yet. Shit. I start zoning out on the half-eaten piece of turkey that’s on my plate as my dad’s laughter echoes in the background.
“You two should come our way in the spring if you can,” my dad says to Tristan.
Tristan nods his head at him, but is still staring at me. He quirks his eyebrows and smirks at me.
“Now,” he mouths.
I shake my head ʻno’ at him as my mom starts talking to me.
“You’ll like this Sophia, since you’re so much like your dad. There will be a beer fest with live bands I think in May. When are you touring again?”
“August,” I can barely get out.
“Yeah. Do you think you’ll have time?”
My mom’s eyes search my face. Time? Time in May? Shit, I should be almost due by then. Won’t know anything for sure until tomorrow, though.
“Yeah, I should be able to,” I say back to her, plastering a fake smile on my face.
Tristan clears his throat loudly and that catches everyone’s attention. He grins at me before glancing over at my dad.
“We’re probably going to be busy around then, Sophia.”
Motherfucker!
“Really?” My mom’s eyebrows pinch together as her smile fades into a frown.
“Thea, what did you expect? This kind of work, it’s not like nine to five shit.”
My mom nods once at my dad.
“Yes. I get it.”
Aw, my. She tries to put on a fake smile.
“I’m sure I can work something out, Mom,” I reassure her.
“It’s fine, sweetie. I understand,” she says, trying to brush it off.
I look back down at my plate, blood pumping thickly in my ears. Shit, shit, shit. Here we go. No! Maybe I should wait. Ah, fuck it.
“I’m pregnant.”
Silence floods the room.
I slowly glance up. Tristan is sitting right across from me, wearing that half smirk. I scan my eyes over to my dad. His fork is suspended in the air in front of him, still with some pie on it. I shift my gaze to my mom, who just stares calmly at me. But then, tears begin to swell in her dark eyes. Shit.
Biting my lip, I glance back over to Tristan. His grin turns into a dark smile, his eyes laughing. He’s probably getting off on this. Fucker.
My dad breaks the silence.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. He’s beginning to smile now and some relief washes over me. Looking over at my mom again, her smile is wide enough to break the tears that have stained her face.
“That’s wonderful!” She beams at me, and then smiles over at Tristan.
His eyebrows raise, not used to seeing my mom this way with him, but he likes it. I can tell.
“When are you due?” My mom’s voice breaks.
“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” I say to her.
Standing up, I begin to remove the plates from around the island. I can’t sit still right now. My back turned to them, I head over to the sink, setting the plates down beside it
when I hear my dad start cackling. Peeking over my shoulder, Tristan leans back with his legs bent and arms crossed over his chest, grinning back at him.
My mom gets up and turns to me. With open arms, she reaches for me as new tears stain her face. Tossing the dish cloth to the side, I fall into her. My mom’s arms circling me are comforting. She kisses my forehead then whispers in my ear.
“How long have you known?”
My heart sinks just a little when I have to let her know that I have pretty much known for a month.
If it makes you feel any better, Mom, Tristan just found out, too!
Shit. That sounds bad.
“About a month,” I say in a hushed tone.
She pulls away from me in shock. Letting out a defeated breath, I give my shoulder a light shrug and release my arms from around her. I take a step back to lean against the countertop.
“Wow. Okay.” She nods and glances over her shoulder.
Tristan and my dad are still talking away. The sight of them getting along together spreads a blanket of warmth over my insides. I don’t even realize that I’m staring at them and smiling ‘til my mom’s gentle voice says my name.
“Sophia…”
My eyes dart from Tristan to my mom.
“Why didn’t you call me right when you found out?”
Damn…
“Mama, I was afraid you were going to be heartbroken,” I confess, trying to speak low so neither Tristan nor my dad hears. She shakes her head and her long, thick, black hair sways behind her.
“Why would you think I was going to be heartbroken? It’s a child.”
Ah...?
“I don’t know.” I shrug again. “Tristan and I just getting together... and you know, the not being married thing,” I whisper the last part.
She then gives me this “come on” look.
“Sophia, first of all, what does marriage have to do with being a parent?”
“Well, that part was more for Dad, because-”
“Because of how he was brought up?” she raises her eyebrow in question, finishing my sentence.
“Uh, yeah. I guess.”
“Don’t even worry about that. Sophia, it’s not like we’re back in the day or anything. And by the looks of it, you’ll be fine.”
She glances over her shoulder. My eyes follow hers and there’s my dad, his head thrown back, laughing as he rubs his forehead. Tristan is leaning back on the stool, smiling at him.
“Sophia, can I ask you something?” Her voice drops and seriousness fills her eyes now.
“What?” I breathe.
“You love Tristan?”
God, more than anything. Where did this come from?
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Then why did you say no?”
Shit, I don’t really want to tell her why.
“Because, Mom. It’s… difficult.”
She nods firmly at me.
“Sweetie, you have always made a mountain out of a molehill,” she laughs.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, Sophia.” She tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and steps back again. “Ever since you were young, you always made situations harder than they had to be.”
Huh? As if she’s answering my unspoken question, she goes on.
“You have to start looking at situations from a hawk’s view rather than just from one side. Not yours, not ours. Rise above it. Everything will be in perspective. Stop over-thinking life and just live.”
I stand there, trying to let my mom’s words soak in. Do I really over think all the time?
“Yes, yes you do,” I hear Frankie’s voice saying in my ear.
Shit, I do. Smiling back at my mom, I turn back around to start rinsing the dishes.
“Let me help you with that.” Mom stands beside me and opens the dishwasher to load the plates I just rinsed. “By the way, do you still have sage?”
“Yeah, mama.” I answer, rinsing off another plate to hand to her. She straightens back up with a serious look on her face.
“You need to smudge this house down.”
“I know, mama.”
“Do you want me to go through right now?”
She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder. I love it. I had some dumb bitches back in high school tease me about her. Your mom’s a hippie, tree hugger, groupie, flower child. They just didn’t understand. Mom always told me to forgive their ignorance. I’ve always admired that about her. She never lets the negative shit get to her. Even if it did, she had on one hell of a poker face.
“Sure, Mom, it’s upstairs. That small wooden box on my dresser. There’s sweet grass in there, too.”
“I’m just going to run through with the sage right now,” she says as she turns around.
Seeing her walk out, Tristan and Dad both look over at me standing there with a wet plate in my hand, water starting to drip on the floor. My dad’s eyes light up.
“Babygirl.”
“Yeah, Dad?”
He laughs a little again. If he grows a beard when he gets older and gains some more weight, I swear my kid will think he’s Santa with how jolly he always is. He stands with his arms reaching out for me.
“Get over here.”
“Love ya.” He smacks his lips on my cheek and sits back down. “Tristan, let’s have some eggnog. I’m on vacation.”
As I finish loading the dishwasher and washing the pots and pans out, the strong smell of sage wafts its way through the kitchen. Tristan’s nostrils flare slightly at the scent. My mom opens up all the cupboards and with one hand holding the plate that has the burning sage on it, she uses her eagle feather and wafts the smoke into every nook and cranny of the kitchen.
“This is how Native Americans nest, Tristan,” my dad says matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes at him before looking back at Tristan. With one hand on my hip, I wave it off with my hand.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s trying to be funny. It’s called smudging.”
Tristan smiles wider, raising his eyebrows. Yeah, he doesn’t know.
“Baby, it’s the same as blessing your house with holy water to Catholics. The sage is used to cleanse.”
“Oh…”
My dad smiles at him.
“Yeah. You get used to it,” he teases.
Shit, I’m so tired. Yawning, I try to shake it off. This is my parents’ last night here, and I don’t want to crash out on them early.
“You tired?” Tristan asks me, scooting his stool away from him.
“Sophia, I already did your room. You can go to bed.”
“Nah, I’m fine,” I protest, even though jumping into bed with Netflix and a piece of pumpkin pie with extra Cool Whip does sound awesome.
“Come on, Sophia. Let’s go to bed.”
Tristan reaches his hand out for me to take. I forget that my parents are even in the same room as I begin to feel that delicious pull.
“Okay,” I agree breathlessly.
Get a grip, Sophia, I say to myself, placing my hand in his. Tristan tugs suddenly, crushing me into him and laying his mouth gently over mine. Yeah, my parents walked out a few seconds later.
Chapter Eighteen
Sophia
Holy shit, we’re flying out this morning to head over to Europe. The closest thing I ever came to Europe was Walt Disney World’s Epcot Center. To say that I’m going to be excited when I get there is an understatement.
Tristan is still passed out in bed, but I can’t sleep. I got up around four when I had to freaking pee, and just decided to stay up. We’re not leaving ’til seven, but my excitement has my adrenaline up.
So does Frankie’s. He must have texted me a dozen times since one, talking about Frenchmen. His dream guy is that dude that played in Unfaithful. Shit. I think he’s a lotta women’s and some men’s dream guy. Anyways, he’s dreaming that he will meet someone like that there.
Frankie’s been to Europe before, but this shit is all new for me and my boys. Tristan has toured o
ver there a couple times and played at Download a few times, too. Which is another thing. Two months after I have our baby, Dollar Settlement actually has a spot in the show. No way in hell I’m giving that up. Either Frankie will have to take on nanny duties or my mama might have to take the baby while we’re gone.
Which brings up another thought. I wonder what I’m gonna have? Over the last month, I’ve been freaking. Freaking… that’s exactly it. Shit, I hate it when other people are right. Oh fucking well.
Glancing back up at some art deco clock Frankie wanted my walls to have, the narrow dial is showing six. I better go and wake Tristan up in five. I wonder how I should do it? As I’m packing my toiletry bag, a small, but wicked smile creeps up. Maybe I should do it with some head… Fuck! I’m so fucking horny. It’s borderline annoying.
Just when I’m dropping the toothpaste into the bag, Tristan’s presence warms my back. His palm glides across my belly as he curls his arm around me, dragging my loose, gray pajama shirt up. His touch is half on my skin, half over the cotton material of my shirt. The way his rough hands softly brush against my skin sends a rush of heat to my core. I clench myself inside at the thrill.
“Hey, baby.”
Tristan’s voice is gruff from sleep. His whiskers scrape my jaw as he lays his full lips underneath it, giving me a light, for him, kiss. Bringing my hands up, I cup his other hand that holds my jaw gently.
Closing my eyes, I relish the moment. I fucking love that he calls me baby now. I’ve been calling him that for a while. I don’t know… it seems so natural and sexy on him. But hearing him calling me that… oh my God, I’m so fucking wet. My smile widens. A genuine, soft moan comes out. I fucking love this man.
“I was just about to wake you,” I grin, thinking about what I had planned.
My thumbs run small circles over the top of his hands, grazing his knuckles. Tristan’s lips pillow over my ear.
“You were?” he asks, his throat deep, thick with sleep.
I feel his own grin widen against my ear. Then he straightens back up, pulling me closer to him. Tipping his chin, he leans back and folds his arms over his chest. My eyes droop on their own at the sight of him and how bad I want him inside me. Shit. See, this is what I was talking about.
Everything I Have (Everything I Want #3) Page 17
