He turns towards Madison and Max who are chasing each other. “Come on, kids. Let's go.”
Once they get everyone loaded into the SUV, and he's behind the wheel he asks, “So who wants ice cream?”
“Me, daddy, me, me, me,” he hears them all shout, yelling over top of each other.
He chuckles, picking up Myra's hand and rubbing it against his cheek before kissing it softly.
“Daddy? Can we get spwinkles?” Madison asks.
Dylan smiles at her in the rearview mirror. “Yes, sweetheart, you can get sprinkles. You can always get the sprinkles.”
* * *
The next evening as Myra puts the dinner dishes in the dishwasher her phone rings. She smiles when she sees Porter’s name.
“Hi. How are you?” she says.
“Myra! I'm doing great. How are you?”
“Good… doing really good. How's Erika?”
“She’s keeping me fat and happy as usual. How're my grandbabies doing?”
“Wonderful. They're growing so fast…” Myra turns when she feels a tugging on her shirt.
“Mommy, who's on the phone…?” Megan asks.
“It's grandpa,” she whispers.
“I wanna talk to him,” Megan says excitedly.
“Okay. Wait until I'm done, all right?”
“Who was that?” Porter asks.
“Megan. She wants to talk to you when we're done.”
“Ah, she's just precious. I got the pictures you sent the other day. When am I going to get to see them again? I'm having withdrawal symptoms.”
Myra laughs. When Megan was born, Porter fell in love with her and immediately took on the role as surrogate grandpa. Myra’s relationship with Porter and his wife, Erika, grew substantially over the years to the point that she feels as though they are real grandparents to her children. “They miss their grandpa and grandma. Dylan needs to work on the plumbing at the old house soon. The renters called recently about it so we plan on making a trip to Nyssa. I'll let you know when.”
“Good. Don't make me wait too long.”
“I won't,” Myra says, smiling.
“I actually have some news for you and Dylan. I got a call earlier that Rhonda Neil died of a heart attack this morning.”
Myra gasps. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah... I guess it happened after she ate breakfast.”
“Wow. I… I don't know what to say.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Mental illness is a hard thing to understand. I hate that she passed like she did, but I'm happy that it gives you and Dylan some closure and that you don't ever have to worry about her getting out and coming after you guys again.”
Myra feels a tug on her shirt again. “Mommy…? Are you done yet? I wanna talk to grandpa,” Megan whines.
“Sure, honey,” she tells her. “Porter? Megan is ready to talk to you. I'll talk to you later, okay?”
“Sure thing, Myra,” he says.
She hands the phone to Megan who runs off to the family room to climb into Dylan's arms. He's reading a story to Madison who is already perched on the other side of his lap, clutching a teddy bear, and Max is on the floor playing with some toys. Matthew lays at Dylan's feet in his bouncy seat, happily slobbering and gurgling over a teething ring.
Myra follows Megan and sinks down onto the couch next to Dylan, resting her head on his shoulder. He smiles down at her and kisses her forehead before he goes back to reading his story. Megan scoots onto Myra's lap as she continues talking away to Porter about her day at school. Myra's fingers find their way into Megan's long hair, running through the smooth strands as she blocks out the chatter around her and thinks about what Porter said.
Rhonda's dead.
She's not sure how she feels about that. She feels relief more than anything and a bit guilty for feeling that way about someone being dead. But she also feels a strong sense of sadness for the poor woman. Rhonda ended up being diagnosed with schizophrenia and institutionalized, but even with medication, she still suffered from delusional behavior. She never got better. Myra can't imagine living such a sad existence trapped in a fictional world that wasn't even real.
Dylan closes the book he was reading and tosses it on the coffee table. He grabs Madison and blows raspberries on her neck, causing her to squeal in delight. Max climbs up into Dylan's lap and hands him a Batman action figure to play with. As she stares at her family, a powerful wave of protectiveness rolls over her, leaving her a little breathless. She is glad Rhonda's dead. Because there is nothing more important to her in the universe than these five people in this room with her right now. Their safety is everything to her.
Megan hangs up with Porter and hands the phone back to Myra. “Did you have a good talk with grandpa?” she asks her.
“Yeah, he's funny. I miss him.”
“We'll go see him soon.”
Myra's phone rings again. “It's Susie,” she tells Dylan. “I'm going to take this upstairs. You okay watching the kids for a minute?”
“Yeah, but don't take too long,” he says, slyly pinching her on the butt. She grins and swats his hand away before she walks towards the stairs.
“Hey,” she says, answering the Face Time call.
“Myra! Oh my god, you are not going to believe what just happened to me. Can you talk?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank Jesus. Tucker had that little floosyfied girl from school over tonight to study,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I told you I don't like that girl. She's not good enough for my baby. She has beady eyes, and her skirts are too short and she doesn’t have enough meat on her bones. Anyway, you know my rules about studying. I've told Tucker a thousand times that he has to leave the door open when he's up there.
“So I went upstairs and his door was closed. So it pissed me off to no end because I can't stand that girl anyway so instead of knocking, I just yanked the door open. And guess what I saw?” she says, her face all dramatic.
“What?”
Susie covers her eyes then grabs her hair, yanking on it. “They were laying… on his bed… kissing… and my baby's hand… Lord help me, was up her shirt.”
“What?”
“Oh dear Lord, help me. That little, slutty beady-eyed child was kissing on my Tucker and his hand, Myra, his hand,” she yells holding up her hand and shaking it for emphasis, “was up her shirt. Like on her boobah. Like my baby was touching a boob… a real, live boob. Oh. My. God. I want to cut a hole in my skull, pour a gallon of bleach in it, replace the hole and then shake my head all crazy like a wet dog. I am completely scarred for all eternity. I truly cannot handle this. My baby is not supposed to be touching boobies, especially floosy boobies on beady-eyed girls. This is just too much for me.”
“Susie, he's sixteen. His hormones are raging and this—”
“He's a baby! He's my baby! He's not supposed to be thinking about boobies, not until he graduates college. And he's most certainly not supposed to be touching them especially in my house!”
“Would you rather he sneak and do it in the backseat of a car?”
“Yes!”
“No, you wouldn’t. You have to remember that you are the mother of teenagers now. You have to accept the fact that these things are going to happen. You have to constantly talk to them about sex, about making wise choices and being safe and then just pray that what you have taught them helps guide them along the way. They will make mistakes because we all do. And you'll be there for them through all of it.”
“Why do you have to be all wise and philosophical when I'm just freaking out over here?”
Myra laughs. “That's why we're friends. We're so opposite, we help balance each other out.”
“True. You help balance my crazy with your non-crazy.”
“So what did you do after you caught them?”
“I sent her the hell packing. And I told Tucker his bedroom was off-limits for studying from now on. He can only study downstairs at the kitchen table.”
<
br /> “Good for you.”
“I'm still dying. I'm never going to get that image out of my head of my baby's hand on a titty. Carmen's titty. I even hate her name. It sounds slutty. Like Carmen Coochie.”
Myra snorts. “Does Tucker know how much you despise this girl?”
“No. It's been unbelievably hard for me to keep my big, fat mouth shut, but somehow I've done it.”
“Well, you better keep it that way. If he gets any inclination from you that you don't approve of her, it'll just make him go after her all the more.”
“I know! I'll just save up all my nasty remarks about her for you.”
“Good. Guess what?”
“What?”
“I just found out Rhonda Neil died of a heart attack today.”
Susie’s mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. I wasn't expecting that.”
“Me neither.”
“I'm glad that bitch is dead. I know that’s harsh and mean and nasty to say, but that’s how I feel. Now you don’t have to have that nagging worry that she might escape from that mental institution and try to come after you guys. You all are completely safe now.”
“I feel the same way, Susie. Well, I better get back to the kids. I’ll call you later, okay?”
They say their goodbyes and Myra hangs up just as Dylan steps into the room. “What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.
Myra takes in a deep breath. “Porter told me Rhonda died of a heart attack today.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah.”
Dylan sits down on the bed and tugs Myra into his lap. “I know she had mental issues and was sick and all but I’m glad she’s dead,” he says. “All I care about is keeping you and the kids safe. How do you feel about it?”
Myra sighs. “I’m a little conflicted because I feel the same way as you do yet I still feel sorry for her somehow. But nothing is more important to me than you and the kids.”
“I agree,” Dylan says, kissing her softly.
“Daddy!” Max shouts, running into the room with Megan and Madison on his heels. “Can we play Tool Man again?” he asks, all three of them climbing on the bed and tackling Dylan. Myra giggles and scoots off of his lap and watches as he stands and turns towards the bed, shouting in his monster voice, “Tool Man hungry again. Tool Man need children.”
Myra laughs when Megan climbs into her lap, screaming happily for mommy to save her, and Dylan falls onto the bed, tickling the kids, causing them to shriek with giggles.
* * *
Myra trails her fingers through Matthew's feather-soft blonde hair before she kisses him gently on the forehead. As carefully and tenderly as possible, she lays his chubby, sleeping little body in his crib and tucks a blanket around him. She smiles as she watches his little mouth work hard on his pacifier. Her eyes stay on his cherub face for a few minutes to make sure he doesn't wake. Quietly, she slips out of the room and closes the door, making her way down the hallway to the bedroom.
“Matthew's asleep,” she tells Dylan.
“It's about time,” he says, slipping out of his pajama bottoms to just his boxers and climbing into bed. “It took me awhile to get the kids to settle down. They were really wound up tonight. Lock the door.”
Myra smiles when she locks the door because she knows what that means. Once her yoga pants are off, she slips into bed in only her shirt and panties, straight into Dylan's waiting arms.
She burrows her head into the warmth of his chest, snuggling as close to him as she can get. “I'm so tired,” she mumbles.
“Me too… It’s been a crazy couple of days.”
Myra slowly rubs her hand through the hairs on his chest. “So how’s it going at work?”
“It’s insane. Chad and I have so much to do, but it’s good. I love the challenge.”
“You guys will do great.”
His hand snakes up underneath her shirt, rubbing and massaging up and down her back. A happy moan slips from her lips as her eyes close and her body instantly relaxes at his touch. “Thanks for believing in me,” he says softly. “I really didn't think I could do it, but you never lost faith. You know how many times I almost gave up on it.”
“I knew you could do it, and you proved me right.”
With his free hand, Dylan grabs hers that lies against his chest and squeezes it close to his heart. “I love you, baby, so much.”
“I love you too.”
Myra lifts her head and looks up into Dylan's eyes. She pulls his hand to her lips and kisses his calloused palm and fingertips. “I have something to tell you,” she whispers in a serious voice.
He stares at her for a second. “You want my giant cock?” he whispers back just as serious.
Her eyes widen. “No,” she says with a giggle, “you pervert.”
Dylan smirks. “It's hard. You wanna feel it?”
“And that's exactly how this happened,” she says, smacking him lightly on the chest.
“Ow. What? How what happened?”
“You and that hard cock of yours got me pregnant again.”
Dylan's mouth drops open, and he just stares at her, dumbfounded. “Pregnant? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I'm serious. You were supposed to go get a vasectomy. This is your fault.”
Dylan throws his head back on the pillow, laughing as he pulls her tighter to his chest. “Pregnant?” he repeats again before laughing some more.
Her eyes narrow. “It's not polite to laugh at someone when they tell you they're pregnant.”
Dylan continues chuckling and squeezes her tighter. “Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm only laughing because I'm so happy, and you kind of blew my mind there for a minute. Although I did wonder why you darted out of the kitchen the other morning like your ass was on fire.”
“I threw my guts up.”
“Ah, my poor, sweet baby... come up here and let me kiss you,” he says, tugging on her.
Myra scoots forward on his chest. His soft lips find hers, sweet and tender, and she feels his hand on her ass, squeezing softly. She sighs when his mouth ghosts over her eyes, cheeks and jaw, his warm breath warming her skin. “I'm not sorry that my hard cock got you pregnant. I'm actually pretty damn thrilled. But what's going on with you? You don't seem happy.”
Myra's fingers trail along his collarbone. “I will be happy... of course. It's just that I had it in my head that we were done having kids. We’ve already talked about this. We have two boys and two girls, which is perfect. And Matthew's only eight months, and I've got so much more work to do on my next book. And I really, really hate morning sickness. It's so hard throwing up all the time—”
“I wish I could do that for you. You know I would if I could.”
“I know.”
“I thought we were safe since you were still breastfeeding.”
“I did too. Matthew's been eating more table food, and I knew he hadn't been breastfeeding as often. I guess I should've been paying more attention. It's just that with the kids and writing and everything—”
“Oh, no, you are not taking the blame on this one, babe. This one is all me. I should've made that damn doctor's appointment. You reminded me half a dozen times. I just kept putting it off because of everything going on at work.”
Myra smirks. “All right, this is definitely your fault. I'll let you take the fall for this one.”
“Gladly…” Dylan says, smiling.
Myra lays her head on his chest, content in his arms while she gently touches his chest. After several minutes, Dylan breaks the silence. “So, five kids, huh? I can't believe we're gonna have five kids. Never in a million fucking years did I ever think that I'd have five kids especially after what happened with Mel. You've made my life so unbelievably amazing. I never thought it could be like this… I never thought I could be as fucking happy as I am right now.”
Myra lifts her head, smiling as she touches his cheek. “You're dropping the F bomb an awful lot.”
Dylan grins. “Mmhm… and you know what that means, right? Kids are in bed, my mouth is dirty, my cock is hard and has been hard for quite a while now…” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
Myra giggles, burying her face in Dylan's chest.
“Caveman wants pussy,” Dylan says in a husky voice. “Can I have your pussy, baby? I'll make you feel good. Like really good.”
“Really good…?” Myra repeats, a smile dangling on her lips.
Dylan nods. “Like so good that I'll have to cover your mouth with my hand so your screams don't wake up the kids...”
“You think you can make me scream?”
“Oh, I know I can, repeatedly,” he says with a smirk.
“So, if I let you have my pussy, what are you going to do with it?”
Dylan flips Myra over pressing her into the mattress with his body. His lips run wet trails up and down her neck before he whispers roughly in her ear, “First, I'll touch and kiss every inch of your body except where you really want it… right on that sweet pussy of yours. That'll drive you fucking crazy and make that delicious pussy of yours get really dripping wet.”
Myra moans softly.
Dylan runs his hand up her thigh. “Then, I'll slip my finger just under the edge of those sexy little panties you have on, and my cock will get even harder when I touch that slippery wetness.”
Dylan's mouth finds hers, kissing her roughly as he slides his tongue inside her mouth. Groaning, he pulls back slightly. “I'll slide my finger back and forth through that drenched pussy of yours knowing that I was the one that made you that wet. Then my finger will just barely graze your clit, giving you just a taste of what you could have. You'll want me to touch you so badly that you'll beg me for it.”
Myra's panting and her panties are already wet.
“Then I'll slide my long fingers – you love my long fingers, don't you, baby?”
Myra nods enthusiastically. He rubs his index finger on her lower lip. “Suck it,” he commands. Myra pulls his finger into her mouth, sucking it slowly before gently biting on the tip. Dylan groans and rubs his cock against her thigh.
“Then I'll shove my fingers up inside your dripping wet pussy and slide them in and out, finger fucking you hard, hitting that sweet spot up inside of you as I rub my thumb over your swollen clit. And then I'll have to shove my other hand over your mouth to muffle you screaming my name as you come fast and hard all over my fingers, leaving them dripping wet.”
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