Swing and a Mishap

by Tara Sivec

  Wren’s words I heard her say to Kevin when I first got here and started stalking across her yard play on a repeat in my head, along with the part where she told him Owen’s father was here now, and it certainly wasn’t him.

  Goddamn, that woman can make me feel like the king of the world with just a handful of perfect words, and I’m so proud of her for the way she handled things today. It’s not until I hear some loud cursing from Tess and Birdie back in the driveway that I turn around in confusion from my happy vigil staring at Wren’s door.

  Right as a body slams into mine along with a mouth against my lips. There’s a moment of confusion as I wrap my arms around the woman and wonder how Wren got out of her house and behind me so fast. And then I realize Wren’s lips aren’t this sticky, her body isn’t this bony, she doesn’t drown herself in so much obnoxious perfume it gives me a headache, there’s no way Tess and Birdie would be screaming their heads off if Wren were kissing me, and what in the holy Jesus fuck is happening right now—I know exactly who the hell this is!

  “You have got to be shitting me right now!”

  A shout from the woman I’m supposed to be kissing has me waking the hell up and jerking my head back from the gross, sticky mouth that was on mine. Just in time to see a seriously upset Wren standing in the doorway of her house, right before she steps back inside and slams the door closed.

  “What in the actual fuck, Alana?” I scream, my head whipping back to the biggest mistake of my goddamn life as I shove her away from me and take a bunch of steps back as I swipe the shit off my lips from her stupid lip gloss.

  “Let me at her! Let me at her!” Birdie screams from the driveway as Palmer stands behind her with both his arms wrapped tightly around her flailing body.

  Tess just reaches into her golf cart and pulls out a blow torch, turning the knob until the gas hisses out of the nozzle and then clicking the ignite button until fire shoots out the end as she smiles serenely at my ex.

  “Do you have any idea how dirty and disgusting that ferry was?” Alana complains, looking down at her phone in her hand, not even realizing she’s about thirty seconds from going up in flames. “You could have at least sent a yacht for me if you wanted me here.”

  “Seriously. What. In. The. Fuck!” I shout again, wondering if I’m in the goddamn Twilight Zone. “Is it National Ex Day and no one told me? Is there a hashtag I should be using? Why do I feel like I’m in the worst fucking romantic comedy of all time? Who’s writing this shit?”

  I scan all the faces in the yard, but everyone just looks at me with blank expressions except for Tess, who looks like she might start humping the blow torch in her hand.

  “Oh, don’t be like that, Sheppy,” Alana coos, making me actually dry heave. Loudly… and violently. “That friend of yours, Kevin something or other. He sent me a message on Instagram and told me how much you missed me and how you were just too shy to tell me yourself.”

  “Fucking Kevin,” I mutter, shaking my head and then looking at the woman standing in front of me with her fake tits, and her fake teeth, and her fake lips, and her fake hair, and so much plastic in her body she really should be concerned with that blow torch and not about me.

  I can’t believe I ever thought for even a second that she could take the place of Wren. Perfect, gorgeous, sweet, soft Wren who tastes like heaven and who might not ever forgive me for opening the door and having to witness me kissing this woman again.

  Goddammit!

  “Listen, Alana, you need to get the hell out of here. Now,” I tell her, not even giving a shit if I hurt her feelings. I need to get my ass inside that house and make sure Wren’s okay. “I don’t want you here, I never wanted you here, and I never will want you here. The only woman I will ever want is inside that house right now, probably fucking devastated and—”

  “Oh shit,” I hear Palmer mutter with a laugh, making me look away from Alana.

  And my dick immediately gets hard.

  Because after everything she’s gone through and after everything that happened here tonight, I should have known Wren wouldn’t be devastated by opening her front door to find me kissing Alana. She’d be pissed.

  “You might wanna run, bitch.” Birdie laughs as we all watch Wren walk down her front porch steps, casually twirling and flipping Owen’s bat in her hand as she goes, like that vampire Jasper in the Twilight movie she made me watch after the glitter incident, with a Tess-like, evil smile on her face.

  I actually let out a fucking whimper, and my dick pulses in my shorts as Wren steps down off the porch and easily taps the end of the bat against the heel of each sneaker-covered foot as she walks toward us, like a pro walking up to the plate and tapping the dirt off his cleats. Like I’ve done walking up to the plate a million times, and goddamn do I want to throw her down on the ground and fuck the hell out of her right now she’s so hot. She looks like sexy, supervillain Harley Quinn walking into a room full of dudes whose asses she’s about to beat without breaking a sweat.

  “Sweetie,” I say gently as I move farther away from Alana. “You okay?”

  “Just great, honey!” Wren smiles brightly as she walks right by me, wrapping both her hands around the handle of the bat and bringing it up above her shoulder as she goes. “You came to the wrong fucking island, on the wrong fucking day, and kissed the wrong fucking man, bitch.”

  “Oh shit…” I mutter, watching Alana start walking backward so fast she trips over her own feet as Wren winds up to take a swing at her head.

  I have just enough time to sprint the few feet Wren made it past me, quickly wrap my arms around her body from behind, and lift her up off her feet right before she does. Wren wriggles and struggles in my arms, cursing and growling so loudly it makes Tess shut off the blow torch and move to hide behind her golf cart.

  “Fine! I’ll go! This shitty island sucks anyway and doesn’t even have a Starbucks,” Alana complains with a huff, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder as she turns and walks away.

  “Oh my gosh, I love your shoes!” Tess says to Alana when she walks by her, making Alana pause and smile at her.

  “Really? Thanks!”

  “No,” Tess says, her smile dropping. “Fuck off. You’re a twat.”

  “Whatever,” Alana mutters, stomping off down the street, complaining about how useless this place is without Uber.

  When I finally feel like it’s safe to set Wren down, I ease up on my hold around her, bringing her back down to her feet. She tosses the bat to the grass before turning around in my arms.

  “Thanks for stopping me. I would have felt bad if I actually hit her. You know… later. In like a week or so.”

  “I know.” I laugh, reaching up to brush a long strand of hair off her face that fell out of her messy bun.

  “I love you so goddamn much,” I tell her. “It really is a good thing I stopped you, or that could have been a swing and a mishap.”

  Wren just shakes her head at my bad pun as I dip my head down to hers. I’m immediately stopped with a palm pressed against my forehead.

  “Oh no. No way, buddy. You are not kissing me with that mouth again until your entire body has been bleached of whore,” she warns me, looking down at my lips in disgust for the first time since I got to Summersweet, and I just laugh again.

  “Can we order pizza? All this drama made me hungry,” Owen complains as he comes out of the house, walks down the front porch steps, and makes his way over to us.

  “Everything makes you hungry,” Wren reminds him.

  “I’m a growing boy, and I need to be fed on the hour, every hour.” He shrugs when he makes it to us, and I hold my fist out for him, but he just keeps his hands in his front pockets.

  “Not until you wash the whore off.”

  “Owen!” Wren laughs through her scolding.

  “Don’t you even blame that one on us!” Birdie says as she and Palmer walk over to join us, along with Tess and Bodhi and Murphy, and Owen finally laughs and bumps his fist against mine. />
  “Don’t you dare yell at my perfect boy,” Murphy grumbles as he wraps his arm around Owen’s shoulders. “Somebody better figure out dinner fast. I need to take my water pill.”

  “What did I miss?”

  We all turn as Laura comes running up the driveway.

  “You want to tell her, or you want me to?” Birdie asks Wren.

  “She’s all yours,” Wren immediately says, letting someone else handle something for her, as I lace my fingers through hers and we all start making our way into Wren’s house.

  “There’s still time to change your mind,” Wren warns me as we walk up the steps behind everyone while Palmer calls and orders pizza, and Birdie starts telling everything to their mom. “You don’t just get me and Owen; you get this whole crazy, messy nuthouse.”

  “But I don’t like sausage! Tess, tell them I don’t like sausage! I am not eating if there’s sausage, and you can’t make me!” Bodhi complains from inside the house as we pause right in front of the open doorway.

  “I like it messy,” I remind her.

  “I love you. Just in case that wasn’t obvious.” Wren smiles up at me.

  “I know. I mean, I am kind of a big deal.”

  “Oh my God.” She laughs with a roll of her eyes, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house.

  A house filled with love, and people, and noise, and where I get to enjoy the first of many dinners with my family that I’ve waited my entire life for.

  EPILOGUE

  Wren

  Two weeks later…

  Shepherd: Remind me again how many scoops of topping go in a flurry.

  Wren: Four. Are you sure you’re okay taking this shift by yourself? I can be up there in five minutes.

  Shepherd: I’m fine. Just like I was fine the last three shifts I worked. The Dip and Twist is still standing, and no one died. Aren’t you supposed to be watching a movie with the girls and relaxing?

  Wren: Did you forget Birdie wants to talk wedding plans tonight? There will be no relaxing.

  Shepherd: Oh God. Did she bring the binders?

  Wren: The binders, 27 bridesmaid dresses to try on, each one more hideous than the last, and I have looked at so many invitation styles I told her to just send everyone a fucking email. I don’t think I’m in the bridal party anymore. This is it. This is how I die.

  Shepherd: Do we have to invite her to our wedding?

  Wren: Wait, what???!!!

  Palmer: What’s everyone wearing tonight?

  Bodhi: Uh, a T-shirt and shorts. We don’t have to dress up, do we?

  Tess: You are NOT wearing a T-shirt and shorts to Shepherd’s first interview since retiring. I’ll find you something nice to wear.

  Shepherd: You guys can seriously wear whatever you want. Wren and I will be standing by the dugout at the high school ball field, and ESPN wants everyone else sitting in the bleachers for wide shots.

  Wren: Except you’re definitely not wearing that purple suit you laid out on the bed this morning. I already put it in the pile to give to charity.

  Shepherd: Dammit!

  Bodhi: Right on. I’ll stick with my Dave Matthews shirt.

  Tess: That shirt is from the 2001 tour. You are not wearing that shirt, for fuck’s sake. Stop acting like a child.

  Wren: Be nice, Tess. Let him wear the T-shirt. Just don’t let him wear one of those hideous bridesmaid dresses LOL!

  Tess: I already burned three of them LOLOLOL!

  Birdie: You assholes do remember I’m in this group text, right?

  Three weeks later…

  Shepherd: What about a shopping spree at Nike?

  Wren: No.

  Shepherd: I could rent out his favorite amusement park!

  Wren: No.

  Shepherd: Get him his own golf cart?

  Wren: I’m going to have to say yes to one of these birthday present ideas for Owen, or you’re just going to keep giving me bigger and more extravagant ideas, aren’t you?

  Shepherd: Now you’re catching on! Let me spoil the boy, Wren. I won’t do it for every single holiday. Just these first ones.

  Wren: Fine. But he’s only turning 15 this weekend. He still has another year to go before we even discuss getting him his own golf cart. And major holidays only, Shepherd Christopher Oliver.

  Shepherd: I am NOT returning the jet ski I got him for National Sundae Day, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.

  Wren: That is not even a real thing.

  Shepherd: It’s November 11th. As a proud ice cream shop owner, I’m disappointed in you for not knowing your own national holiday.

  Five weeks later…

  Mom: I see you got the D last night.

  Wren: MOM!

  Mom: We definitely did not have another break-in, since Shepherd installed a security system akin to that of Fort Knox, and yet, there are spoons, and cups, and bowls all over the place.

  Wren: Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Shepherd and I went to dinner with his parents on the mainland last night. Maybe YOU made the mess this time.

  Mom: Oh shit, that’s right! I did LOL! Wow, I had a lot of wine last night. It’s all coming back to me now. Stuart was a very wild lover. We might need to replace one of the shelves in the walk-in freezer. Didn’t realize we’d broken that off as well.

  Emily: S-E-X! Go Sex! Get it, Laura!

  Wren: Don’t encourage her, Emily!

  Wren: I don’t even want to know why you were in the walk-in.

  Mom: Nipple stimulation is much easier in a freezer.

  Emily: Is this the same Stuart who did that thing with the grapes and your toes?

  Mom: No, that was Stuart Franklin. This is Stuart Larson, the one who can fold his tongue in half during oral.

  Shepherd: Please, for the love of God, someone remove me from this group text.

  Wren: It has a Jacuzzi tub I can do laps in!

  Shepherd: I know, baby.

  Wren: Did you SEE the theater room???

  Shepherd: I did, baby.

  Wren: My God, you are really going to cry watching Field of Dreams in this thing. It’s huge!

  Wren: That’s what she said LOL!

  Wren: HOLY SHIT HAVE YOU SEEN THE CLOSET??? I can fit a semi-truck in here.

  Shepherd: What do you think? Do you think it’s big enough for you, me, and Owen?

  Wren: Shepherd, this house is big enough for half the island to live in. I can’t believe Miss Abigail and her husband are actually selling this place and moving to Costa Rica.

  Shepherd: I didn’t want to put in an offer until you got to do a walk-through. It’s your decision, Wren. If you don’t like it, I’ll build you whatever the hell you want.

  Wren: I love it, and I love you. You’re insane, and this house is too big and extravagant, but OMG I want to hump the kitchen backsplash it’s so pretty. Did you know there’s a pasta faucet? Like, what even IS that?! I don’t care, but I need it. Hurry up and get home from your sister’s house so we can tell Owen and I can properly show you how much I love you.

  Two months later…

  Wren: It’s been too long since I’ve had your cock inside me. Do you have any idea how hot I get just thinking about it? I love how big you are, stretching and filling my tight, wet pussy.

  Shepherd: Jesus Christ, woman.

  Wren: You like that, baby? Would you like it if I slipped my hand inside my panties? I’d just slide my fingers through all that wetness you made and slowly push two of them inside me, wishing it was you, thrusting and pumping and filling me up so good.

  Shepherd: JESUS CHRIST, WOMAN! Are you trying to kill me???

  Wren: Can you feel how tight and wet my pussy is wrapped around your big, strong cock? Remember last week when we snuck out onto the baseball field after dark when it was empty and the lights were all off? Remember how I straddled your lap on the bench in the dugout and I wasn’t wearing any panties under my skirt? God, it felt so good sitting on your strong, firm thighs, while you clutched my ass and I slowly brought my
body down onto your stiff, beautiful cock. You told me I felt so good, and tight, and you spread your legs beneath me and widened my thighs around you and fucked up into me so good, do you remember? Can you feel me bouncing up and down on your lap, taking every inch of you deep inside me? I’m so wet right now just thinking about riding your dick and how hard you came inside me.

  Shepherd: And now I’m dead.

  Wren: Maybe you’d like it better if I got down on my knees for you, sir. I could wrap my warm, wet mouth around that big, stiff cock and lick and suck you hard and deep until you come down my throat.

  “Wren,” Shepherd growls in warning.

  “No, keep going, it was just getting good.”

  Shepherd and I look back over our shoulders at Bodhi sitting right behind us in the bleachers, leaning forward and shoveling popcorn in his mouth. Shepherd reaches up and presses his palm against Bodhi’s forehead to get him to move back before turning around to look at me with one of his eyebrows raised.

  “Okay, so maybe a Friday night high school football game was a bad time to test out my new phone sex skills.” I shrug, sliding my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie.

  Shepherd does the same, and I slide my arm through the crook of his elbow to snuggle closer to him as he kisses the top of my head, and we go back to watching the game. The third quarter just started, and right now, the Summersweet Wildcats are winning by one touchdown. Going to Friday night football games is a tradition, even if we don’t have any family members who play on the team. I love the hot summer months, but I really love the cool fall and winter months when we can wear sweaters and light fires and snuggle up for Friday night football.

  “Are you jealous that Birdie and Palmer are making out under the bleachers? We can go when they get back.” Shepherd wags his eyebrows at me and makes me laugh before he continues in a lower voice, putting his mouth right by my ear. “I’m also pretty confident we’re not supposed to be sitting right next to each other when phone sex happens, but damn, baby. That was seriously hot. Your research seems to be going quite well.”