The crash of the waves, plus the epic orgasms I’d just had, made me sleepy, and I held on to Nate’s waist for support as we strolled up the beach.
“Best holiday ever, babe,” Nate suddenly said.
“Yeah,” I smiled up into his eyes. “It’s going to be hard to top it.”
I didn’t mean it as a challenge but my husband took at as such. “Just watch me try,” he promised.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
As soon as I walked into the house from a long day at work I smelled the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen and felt my whole being melt in relaxation. Nate had dinner on so I didn’t have to worry about it.
My relaxation lasted two seconds.
“Mummy!” January came flying out of the large living room and threw herself at me as I was kicking my shoes off. I held on to her as I flipped off my right boot with my stockinged left foot.
“What’s up, baby girl?” I asked, feeling her grip on me tighten.
My kid bent her head back and glared at me. “Lily won’t come out of her room!” She said this as if it were somehow my fault.
Concern surged through me. Lily may be the quieter of my daughters but she was also social with us. God help me if she was hitting teenagerhood prematurely. I remember locking myself in my room and refusing to spend time with my mom. Then again, that was after I got my period, and I knew my oldest hadn’t gotten her period yet.
I was dreading it.
I didn’t want my baby to grow up.
“What’s wrong with Lily?” I asked, leading Jan down the hall and into the kitchen. Nate was standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. “What’s wrong with Lily?” I repeated to his back.
He jerked around, his face lighting up with a big smile, and I watched as he turned down the heat on the stove and crossed the room to me. I leaned in for his kiss, ignoring my kid who squealed that we were gross.
“Babe,” he murmured, pulling back. “Glad you’re home. I think this is a girl problem.”
“Lily?”
He nodded, losing his smile. “After I picked up Jan we went to get Lily. She wasn’t standing with her friends outside and she slammed the car door when she got in. Wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Got her home and she ran upstairs and slammed her door. I think she’s barricaded it, because Jan tried to get in and it wouldn’t budge.”
Worry pierced me. Please do not tell me my kid got her period at school.
“Sorry, babe.” Nate kissed me again, “Not the best homecoming.”
“You’re cooking and you kissed me. Still a good homecoming.” I looked down at Jan. “Now let me go see what’s up with your big sis.”
“I’m coming,” Jan said, sticking out her bottom lip stubbornly.
“Why don’t you wait on me checking out the situation first?” I strode past her but I had mom eyes on the back of the head and knew she was following me.
Upstairs, I made my way over to Lily’s bedroom door. She had a poster of the girl band she loved so much on the front of it. I hated their music and the provocative way they dressed, considering most of their fans were my girl’s age. I took pleasure in knocking hard on the door, right over the face of the band member who was always wore crotch-short dresses. “Lily, baby, you okay?”
I heard a shuffling noise, some clatter, and then the door opened and my sweet girl’s tear-stained face looked up at me. “Mum.”
My chest ached. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I pushed the door a little and she let it give way, and I bent down to wrap my arms around her. I felt her tears on my shoulder and worry consumed me. “Baby, please tell me what’s wrong?”
She sniffled. “Only if Jan goes away.”
I lifted my head and glanced over my shoulder to see my little one jut out her chin. I stopped her before she could say anything. “Just let me talk with your sister first, okay, baby?” I didn’t let her answer, quickly stepping inside Lily’s bedroom and letting the door close almost all the way.
I knew for a fact Jan probably had her ear right at the gap, but I didn’t bother looking around to check. Instead I led Lily over to her bed and pulled her down beside me. Wiping the tears off her cheeks, I said, “Tell me what happened.”
Her pretty face crumpled again. “Lucy fancies Devon Carson and Amanda asked him out for her but he told Amanda that he fancies me and now Lucy has turned everyone against me.” Her chest heaved as she struggled to fight her tears. “All my friends stopped talking to me, Mum. And Lucy spread a rumor that I wet the bed at our last sleepover. They were all laughing at me. I don’t even like Devon back!”
I bit my lip, anger rushing through me. My kid was only in primary seven, finishing up spring term and getting ready to start her last term before high school after the summer. How was it possible that girls at that age were starting jealousy shit over boys?
“I’m going to phone Lucy’s mom,” I said, hoping I could stop myself from bitching the woman out. What happened to teaching our girls about the sisterhood, and not treating each other like crap in competition over boys’ attention?
“No, mum, no,” Lily said, panicked.
“Yeah, mummy, no!” Jan came barging into the room. She stopped, legs braced, hands on her hips and her nose and mouth scrunched in anger. She was so freaking adorable it took everything within me not to laugh. That only got harder when she shook a fist at us. “I’ll punch her face, teach her a lesson.”
Where the hell did she get this stuff?
Lips straining against an amused expression, I pursed them instead. “Baby girl, you know that’s not the answer. We don’t hit people.”
“But daddy taught me how.” She shook that little fist again.
“No, your dad taught you about self-defense. There is a difference. You can’t go around punching people.”
“I’m not going to go around punching people, silly.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to self-defense Lily-Bily.”
I looked at Lily and she glanced from her little sister to me, and I saw the amusement cut through the sadness in her eyes. I grinned at her and she burst out into giggles. Feeling grateful, I grabbed hold of Jan’s hand and tugged her between my legs so I could tickle her. Her peals of laughter lit the room, so infectious they set off more giggles from her big sister.
“No one is going to punch anyone,” I said, cuddling Jan between my legs and reaching for Lily’s hand. “But Lucy’s mom needs to know about her daughter’s behavior. She can’t bully you like this, Lily.”
“She’s just jealous,” Jan added. “Cos’ you’re way prettier than her.”
Lily smiled down at her sister, her adorable dimples flashing. The truth was I didn’t think my baby girl was wrong. Lily was reaching her teens and she was heading to be a knockout. Unfortunately, there would always be people who couldn’t stand the beauty in others. Thankfully, there would also always be people who saw past my kid’s pretty face to the real beauty inside of her. She was my sweet, sensitive, compassionate, kind little girl. “I know it may not seem like it now, but you’ll go off to high school, meet new friends. Friends who are proud of all that you are and aren’t jealous of that pretty face.”
“I have to get there first, Mum.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t go back to school if Lucy is going to torture me.”
I knew Lucy’s mom, Kathleen, and she was a nice woman. Of course, I’d never had to deal with her when I was calling to tell her that her kid was being a bitch to mine, but I had to hope she’d have a word with Lucy. “I’m calling Lucy’s mom. End of. You are not going to be afraid to go to school. Okay?”
Still looking worried, Lily nodded reluctantly.
“Good. First, though, let’s go have that delicious-smelling dinner your dad is making for us.”
Not long later we were all sitting around the dining table eating homemade spaghetti
and meatballs and crunchy garlic bread. Nate hadn’t pressed about what was wrong with Lily, sensing she didn’t want to talk about it with her dad. Instead he just kissed the top of her head and told her he loved her before laying out dinner for us.
“Would you rather live in a house made entirely of spaghetti or have to eat spaghetti for the rest of your life?” Jan asked, dripping a huge splat of spaghetti onto the dining table as she tried to lift it to her mouth.
My kid was quite possibly the most articulate eight-year-old in Scotland. The most coordinated, she was not.
“Spaghetti house,” Lily said, seeming to be feeling better.
“Me too!” Jan agreed.
I loved that her little sister could cheer her up.
“I’m going to say eat it. As long as it’s your dad’s spaghetti.” I smiled over at him.
Nate nodded his head in gratitude. “I’m going to say live in a spaghetti house.”
“Why?” Jan demanded.
“Because I go where my Jan and Lily go.” He winked at her and then shot his eldest a dazzling smile.
“Way to come off as the better parent, Sawyer.” I huffed in pretense.
His answer was to wink at me, too.
Too charming for his own good!
“Okay, I have one,” Lily said. “Would you rather be in a girl band”—she shot me a devious look, knowing how much I disliked girl bands—“or have dog poop on your shoe all the time?”
How was that fair? I parted my lips in a huff and ignored Nate’s snort from the other end of the table.
“I’m going with girl band,” Nate said.
I made a face. “You would say that.”
He just laughed.
“Me too.” Lily chirped.
I looked at Jan and she appeared just as disgusted as me. “Dog poop,” she said, as if there was no other possible choice.
I raised my hand in a high-five and she reached up to slap it. “Right there with you, sister. We’ll walk around with dog poop on our shoes listening to good music.”
Jan nodded with great conviction.
Lily heaved a sigh. “You’re in denial.”
She sounded so serious and grown up about it, I couldn’t help but share a grin with Nate. We had the best freaking kids on the planet.
* * *
* * *
Later, after the girls did their homework and we’d watched some television, after I’d explained what happened to Lily to Nate in the kitchen, after I’d called Kathleen who was convinced Lily had gotten the wrong idea but would talk to Lucy nonetheless, after I’d assured Lily everything would be fine at school the next day, and after we’d put the girls to bed, Nate and I curled up on the couch together to watch grown-up TV.
However, we were barely paying attention to the crime drama on the screen. We were too busy catching up on each other’s day.
“I can’t believe that little witch did that to Lily,” he grumbled. “And over a boy. When did boys come into the picture?”
I smiled, snuggling deeper against his chest. “I blame you.”
Nate tensed. “How so?”
“She got all that beauty from you. Girls who haven’t been taught better are going to be jealous of it, and boys are going to want a piece of it.”
“I’m ignoring that last part entirely,” he grumbled. “As for the first part . . . She has your gorgeous bloody eyes.”
“Mixed with your gorgeous bloody coloring and dimples. Let’s face it, baby, in a few years’ time, Lil will be a knockout. And in ten years’ time so will Jan. Life is going to be equal parts easier and harder for them because of it.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” he whispered.
At his melancholy tone, I lifted my head to look at him. He looked sad. “Baby?”
Nate met my eyes. “They’re growing up too fast.”
“I know,” I whispered back, giving him a sad smile in return. “So we should enjoy the hell out of them being kids while we can.”
He nodded and his arm tightened around me.
After a while, we grew silent and I was getting into the TV show when Nate suddenly said, “I’ve got that wedding coming up this weekend.”
I’d almost forgotten about that. Usually Nate’s colleague, Alex, took on the weekend wedding photography because he was single and didn’t mind working the weekends, whereas, Nate begrudged being away from me and the girls. Unfortunately, there was one wedding Alex couldn’t work because it was his birthday, and Nate agreed to do it.
“It’s at that country house in Loch Lomond.”
“I remember you saying.”
“I meant to tell you I booked a room for it as soon as I took the job.”
I lifted my head, frowning at him. “Why would you book a room?”
Nate’s gaze warmed with heat. “I also asked my mum and dad if they’d watch the kids.”
Understanding hit. “You booked a room for us?”
“Aye. Thought you could be my assistant for the day and I’d reward you for all your hard work by shagging your brains out in a five-star hotel.” He grinned wickedly.
Anticipation and thrill moved through me. “You romantic bastard, you.”
Nate threw his head back in laughter.
“You meant to say make love to me in a five-star hotel,” I continued.
He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, I meant to say shagging. In fact, no, fucking. Fucking your brains out in a five-star hotel.”
I pretended to huff, though his words made me tingle all over, and tried to get up off of him, but he pulled me back down on top of him.
“Okay, okay.” He tried to appease me as he ran his hands up my sides and brushed the swell of my breasts with his thumbs. “I’ll fuck your brains out and then I’ll make love to you.”
I relaxed immediately. “Well, why didn’t you just say that?”
Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around me as I settled against his chest again. We lay there, watching TV, our awesome kids sleeping contentedly upstairs, a weekend love fest waiting on the horizon for us, and I knew I couldn’t get any happier than I was in that moment.
But my husband had to go and prove me wrong by suddenly saying, “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”
Tears pooled in my eyes, and I lifted my head again to meet his gaze. Reaching up, I brushed the backs of my fingers over his jaw and replied, “I know the feeling, baby.”
Keep reading for a preview of Fight or Flight, Samantha Young’s brand new stand-alone contemporary romance, coming from Berkley in October 2018 wherever books are sold.
1
March 2018
Sky Harbor Airport, AZ
Food. Food and coffee. I knew those should be my priority. The grumbles in my belly were making that perfectly clear. And considering the purpose for my visit to Phoenix, it was no wonder I was marching through the terminal after having my bag searched in security, feeling like I might claw someone’s face off if I didn’t get a shot of caffeine in my system.
Even though I was hangry, my priority was to get upgraded to first class on my flight home to Boston. I could be hangry all I wanted in an airport. But as I was someone who suffered from mild claustrophobia, sitting in coach—with my luck stuck beside someone who would take their shoes and socks off during flight—would be a million times worse than being hangry. I couldn’t chance it. A pair of strange, hot, sweaty, smelly, bare feet next to me for four and a half hours? No, that was a hell my current state of mind couldn’t deal with. I shuddered as I marched toward the desk at my gate.
Seeing a small group of people crowded under a television screen, I faltered, wondering what had drawn them to the news. Slowing at the images of huge plumes of smoke billowing out of a tremendously large mountain, my curiosity drew me to a halt.
Within a few seconds the news
told me that an unpronounceable volcano in Iceland had erupted creating this humungous ash cloud that was causing disruption in Europe. Flights there had been grounded and consequently travel chaos ensued.
The thought of being stuck in an airport for an indeterminate number of hours—days even—made me shudder in sympathy for my poor fellow human beings.
I couldn’t imagine dealing with that on top of the week I’d just had. I liked to think I was someone who was usually cool and collected, but lately my emotions were so close to the surface I was almost afraid of them. I asked the universe to forgive me my self-absorption, thankful that I was not someone who wasn’t going to make it home today, and continued on my path to the help desk. There was no one in line, and the man behind it began to smile in welcome as I approached.
“Hi, I was wondering—Oof!” I winced as a laptop bag attached to a big guy whacked against my right shoulder, knocking me back on my heels. The big guy didn’t even realize he’d hit me as he strode right past me and cut in before me at the help desk.
Rude!
“I’d like tae upgrade tae first class, please,” he said in a deep, loud, rumbling, very attractive accent that did nothing to soothe my annoyance with him for cutting in front of me.
“Of course, sir,” the flight attendant answered in such a flirtatious tone I was sure that if I were tall enough to see over the big guy’s shoulder I would see the flight attendant batting his lashes at him. “Okay, flight DL180 to Boston. You’re in luck, Mr. Scott. We have one seat left in first class.”
Oh, hell no!
“What?” I shoved my way up next to rude guy, not even looking at him.
The flight attendant, sensing my tone, immediately narrowed his eyes on me and thinned his lips.
“I was coming here to ask for an upgrade on this flight and he,” I gestured to my right, “cut in front of me. You saw him do it.”
The One Real Thing Page 12