by Kendall Ryan
Throughout the pregnancy, Hunter had been a bundle of nerves. Anytime I walked too fast or tripped on the sidewalk (which, unfortunately, I did a lot), he’d run over to me to make sure that the babies and I were okay. I would have thought he’d be the levelheaded one since he’d been through this before. I, on the other hand, had been surprisingly calm for the past nine months, other than my raging hormones and intense cravings for chocolate and pickles.
But suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t feel ready to bring two lives into this world quite yet.
Was it too late to back out of this whole thing?
We’d found out I was pregnant a couple of months after the wedding. Shortly after, I legally adopted Maddie, and when we told her about her new brothers, we were worried she’d be upset. In typical Maddie fashion, she’d been mature about everything and couldn’t wait to meet them. She’d already made a list of activities they could do together once the twins were old enough. And until then, she had a list of things she could do to help us. She reminded us that with two babies around, there wouldn’t be as much time for the two of us to have adult snuggle-time, so she’d watch her brothers so we could still do that.
Hunter ran back up the stairs. Winded, he helped me stand up.
“Let’s get you in the car now so we can be ready.” He took a deep inhale. “They should be here any minute.”
I bit my lip, not moving.
“Kate?” he asked, finally pausing for a moment to give me a long look. “Is it the contractions? Does it hurt too much to walk?”
I shook my head, not looking at him.
“What is it?” He came to stand next to me and put an arm around me.
“I watched a lot of reality TV,” I blurted, feeling tears well up.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.
“You know how you’re supposed to play Mozart while you’re pregnant so your baby turns out smarter? Well, I didn’t. I just watched a lot of reality TV, and now the twins are going to be stupid and it’s my fault.” I put my head in my hands while Hunter wrapped an arm around me. “I’m already a bad mom.”
Okay, I knew I was probably being a little hysterical, but I couldn’t stop myself. The reality that I was about to shape two lives was hitting me harder than it ever had before. This was adulting at a whole new level. Was I really ready?
“Hey, they won’t be stupid,” he said softly, rubbing my shoulder. “They’re going to be great. And you’re going to be a great mom. You already are, baby. Look how you are with Maddie.”
Unconvinced, I nodded. Another contraction hit, and I squeezed Hunter’s hand until the pain passed.
“Come on, we have to get going,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me to the hall.
“No, I’m not in labor,” I said, shaking my head. “I still have a week.”
Suddenly, I felt something between my legs. I looked up at Hunter.
“I think my water just broke,” I said in disbelief.
He jumped into action, lifting me off my feet and whisking me down the stairs. His parents pulled up just as he was helping me into the car. They waved at us as we pulled away, Hunter’s mom already crying with happiness.
I was still in a state of shock as we drove to the hospital. Of course, I was prepared for this moment—we’d gone to all the classes, had read the books we were supposed to read. We’d bought two cribs and a double stroller, and we had a dresser full of tiny, freshly washed baby clothes. Hunter and I had practiced swaddling a fake baby about a thousand times. But now that it was happening, I felt completely unprepared.
We pulled up to the hospital in record time. Hunter wanted to run inside to get me a wheelchair, but I insisted on walking in.
“Seriously, Kate?” he asked as I waddled out of the car.
“I can do it.” I huffed, resting one hand on the car for a moment as a contraction shot through me. Holy hell!
“Stay here,” he told me. “I’m serious. Don’t move.”
I didn’t appreciate being scolded, but I decided to give in. After all, relationships were about letting yourself be supported by another person. It had been a long road, but I’d finally learned that lesson. Sometimes I needed to set my independence aside and let Hunter take the lead.
Everything inside the hospital was such a whirlwind; it felt like only seconds later that I’d been put into a gown and was sitting in a hospital bed. The pain intensified quickly. I didn’t consider myself a wimp, but this was seriously no joke. When the pain was almost unbearable, the nurse gave me a sympathetic grin.
“It’s almost time to push,” she said enthusiastically.
Another wave of pain surged through me. What was she so happy about? I wanted to slap the bitch.
Hunter offered me some ice chips to chew on, which he’d been instructed to do by the nurse. I waved him away.
“I changed my mind about this.” I gasped, frantically looking at Hunter. He had a bewildered look on his face, still holding out the ice chips. This was unbearable. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
“It’ll be okay, baby. You can do this,” he said, gripping my hand firmly.
“Why did you do this to me?” I groaned.
The doctor strode into the room, along with a couple of nurses who began prepping two bassinets.
My nether regions felt like they were on fire. I looked at Hunter and tried to calm myself by staring into his warm, dark eyes. His expression was full of worry as I gripped his hand with every wave of pain. I tried to tell myself that this would all be a funny story once my lady parts stopped feeling like they were full of hot coals.
A few moments later, my knees were drawn up and I was told to bear down. Whatever the hell that meant.
“You’re doing great,” Hunter said.
I let out several grunts in response. If I weren’t the size of a whale, I would have jumped off the bed and run out of here.
“Just keep looking at me,” he told me.
Staring at Hunter was the only thing keeping me grounded, so I kept my eyes locked with his as I continued to push.
After a few more pushes, just when I was about to give up and live as a pregnant woman for the rest of my life, one baby was delivered. Tiny cries filled the room, and I wanted to sob with relief.
“He’s perfect,” the nurse said excitedly after looking him over.
“One down, one to go,” the doctor said, grinning at Hunter.
Fuck.
After another several pushes, the second baby moved into position and was finally free.
Exhausted, I lay back until the nurses brought them over to me, one at a time. I took one look at them and burst into tears. They were so tiny and adorable. My heart was so full, it actually felt close to bursting.
Hunter leaned over and ran a finger along their tiny cheeks. “They’re ours,” he whispered excitedly.
I tried to control my waterworks, but I couldn’t. The babies were too perfect. I couldn’t believe I’d ever questioned having a family. This was by far the greatest thing I’d ever experienced.
I watched Hunter as he looked down at our babies, and thought about how amazing it was going to be when Maddie met them.
I’d had a lot of doubts along the way—about dating, marriage, and having a family—but this moment overshadowed every doubt I’d ever had. This was my family, my tribe, my ride-or-die, and it was absolutely perfect.
* * *
What do you get when you mix two best friends and a bet to become a better lover? I can’t wait for you to meet Slate & Keaton. She’s a smart, nerdy girl, and he’s a lovable cocky playboy. Watching them fall for each other is swoony, unputdownable romance! Check out LOVE MACHINE here.
If You Liked Mister Tonight … You’ll love Love Machine!
After a rather uncomfortable ladies’ night involving a cucumber-wielding instructor with judgy eyes, I’m forced to admit my weaknesses. Rather than point blame at my lack of a sex life, I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and get
to work.
As a junior executive who’s clawed her way up the corporate ladder, failure is not in my vocabulary. Confident and bold in other areas of my life, I have to admit it’s time to up my bedroom game.
Asking my friend Slate Cruz is really the only option. Slate is like a walking billboard for sex. The man gets more ass than a toilet seat. There’s no way I’ll want more from this playboy than a little inspiration to revive my inner sex kitten.
Except, what happens if I do?
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Chapter One
Keaton
Grin and bear it.
It’s a familiar phrase to those of us who spend most of our lives people-pleasing. But I, Keaton Henley, software saleswoman and best friend extraordinaire, don’t just grin and bear it at my favorite person’s bachelorette party. I grin and wear it.
“This is so much fun!” I say to the woman of the hour, Karina. We’ve been besties since our college days, back when the parties were in dimly lit fraternity houses and the drinks were almost exclusively mixed with cheap vodka.
I squeeze her arm, overwhelmed with a moment of nostalgia. She almost spills her mimosa on both of us.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Karina whispers drunkenly to me, her brown eyes boring deep holes into my fraudulent enthusiasm.
“What? Are you kidding?” I lie, finger guns poised. “This is so. Much. Fun.” Pow, pow, pow.
The women around us at the bachelorette party sit in an amiable circle in the beautiful living room, lounging on plush couches and pillows, chattering about their latest sexual encounters. Ariana, Karina’s younger sister, roommate, and maid of honor, speaks in the loudest drunken whisper, explaining in heightened detail the unexpected pleasures of anal sex.
Everyone is much drunker than me, but that’s pretty normal in our friend group. At this time of day, I’m usually on my third cup of coffee, not my third cocktail. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but still.
Karina raises her eyebrows at my smoking fingers. “You always use finger guns when you’re lying, Keaton.”
I shoot her again, just for fun. She rolls her eyes, so I grab her hand and plant a quick kiss on it.
“The estrogen level in this room is just higher than what I’m used to,” I remind her.
I work with a software sales team that is highly male-dominated. Reconnecting with our female college friends and meeting some of Karina’s female coworkers for the first time has been a change of speed that takes some getting used to. Usually, my daily conversations consist of maximizing sales, expanding our demographic, and developing new marketing techniques. Today, we’re all listening to Ariana talk about maximizing pleasure, expanding her list of partners, and developing new sex techniques.
“It’s all about trust,” Ariana says in that adorably frustrating been-there-done-that voice. She’s answered by collective head nods, led by my other friend Gabby, who raises her glass with triumph.
“To anal!” Gabby cries, winking at both Karina and me.
Gabby is probably the most sexually adventurous creature I’ve ever known; she’s had notches etched on her bedpost since she was fifteen. All curves and confidence, she got every kind of ass imaginable back when Karina and I were too busy getting every kind of blown off.
Karina finishes her drink in one big gulp and takes my hand. “Come on. I need something stronger.”
She yanks me up, and we scuttle away from the couches of the trendy living room into the even trendier kitchenette. Karina knows just where her sister’s whiskey stash is: tucked behind the olive oil on the top shelf. As she unscrews the cap and pours the contents into two coffee mugs, we listen to Ariana begin another story about an entirely different adventure of the sexual nature.
“Why does your sister always have the best sex stories? Isn’t she like, five years younger than us?” I ask mournfully.
Karina laughs, sipping on her whiskey with a smile. “She’s a tornado. Wait till you hear what she has planned for the rest of the party.”
“More drinking, I hope.”
“Oh yes. You’ll definitely need to drink more for what’s coming.”
That doesn’t sound promising.
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. My ears perk up and I lean around the kitchen island to get a look down the front hall.
Gabby races to answer the door. “Coming!” she calls, throwing open the door. Turning back to look over her shoulder at the rest of the ladies, she smirks and says, “Well, we all will be soon.”
A woman stands there dressed in a flouncy sundress with a matching picnic basket and bright red lipstick. “Hello, there,” she says with a smile, holding out her hand.
Gabby takes in her hand and then immediately stares at the unassuming woman’s boobs. “Whoa. Holy knockers,” she purrs.
Karina groans into her mug, and I laugh. Shameless, that woman.
Ariana is quick to the door, pulling the woman into the apartment she shares with her sister like she’s about to introduce us to the living embodiment of the cure for cancer. “Everyone, meet Claire! Claire is our best friend today, because she’s going to change our lives.”
“I don’t know about that.” Claire laughs. She looks to be in her mid-twenties.
Oh, to be five years younger and pull off that kind of cleavage again.
She begins to unpack the contents of her picnic basket on the coffee table—lotions, towels, cucumbers. Our friends lean in, intrigued.
“Oh yes, spa time!” I cheer, setting down my whiskey with a clink on the countertop, and then skip over to embrace my bliss.
“Somehow I don’t think that’s what—” Karina calls after me, but it’s too late.
I snatch up one of the cucumbers, looking at Claire with a grin. “Hi. I prefer these in my stomach rather than on my eyes,” I explain, pretty sure the whiskey has stolen my filter.
Claire’s red lips curl into a smile as my own wrap around the vegetable, preparing for a bite. “Actually,” she says, “those are for the oral-sex presentation.”
Crunch. I feel my cheeks flame up as my friends all explode into laugher.
“Oh, all right,” I mumble through a mouthful of cucumber. “Get it out of your systems, ladies.”
I look to Karina in the kitchen with a desperate plea for help.
She merely raises her mug to me. “Let’s get started.”
• • •
Standing in the front hall of Ariana and Karina’s apartment, I hug Karina good-bye, swaying back and forth in my tipsiness. The other women are changing into their sexy bar outfits, waltzing around in various levels of undress.
They’re ready to hit the town after pregaming with Claire and her cucumbers. Me? I’m ready for bed.
I whisper drunkenly in Karina’s ear. “I love you so much—so, so much. Please just kill me now while you’re at the prime of your happiness and I’m at the lowest of lows.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she says, patting my back.
It was that bad. I slobbered all over my cucumber, making a complete mess of myself and becoming tonight’s source of entertainment for all our friends. Their stomach muscles are probably aching with how hard they laughed at me.
“I wish you could stay.” She sighs. “I never get to see you anymore. And I’m getting married, which means I probably will be no more fun and I’ll see you even less.”
“Nonsense,” I say, planting a kiss on her cheek. I’ve learned my lesson about staying out late with these ladies. Don’t—unless you have time to nurse a wicked hangover in the morning.
“Okay.” She pouts, reaching up to straighten my glasses, slightly askew from our bear hug. “See you soon?”
“I promise, missy.” I smile.
“Promissy,” she slurs back.
“Gabby,” I call ov
er Karina’s shoulder, and Gabby pokes her head out of the bathroom, wearing only her underthings and wielding a curling iron. “Please remember to watch out for our girl tonight? And don’t disappear with some rando?”
She smiles and flips me off. It’s just like college again.
“Love you all!” I declare to the masses, and am met with a chorus of love from my favorite people. I close the door behind me and release a deep sigh.
A sense of restlessness courses through me as I stand on the street, waiting for my Uber to arrive. The night air is jolting, seeming to magnify my every emotion.
God, that was humiliating. I curse at myself for being so sexually behind everyone else. I thought my blow jobs were average; I didn’t think I was that bad. Claire’s annoying little twenty-something smirk had me sweating balls.
I remember how I dropped the cucumber on the floor, my hands slick with nerves and my own spit.
Claire had smiled encouragingly and said, in front of everyone, “Don’t worry, Keaton. I doubt you’ll make anyone’s dick fall off . . . Well, not unless you bite down, that is.”
Bitch.
My Uber pulls up. I climb inside the dim interior and slam the door with more force than necessary, worried that I’m going to turn into a scary, angry, sexless woman.
A small voice in my head reminds me that I’m good at so many things. I went to a goddamn Ivy League school, for crying out loud. But perfect attendance and an honor roll certificate don’t mean that I know how to roll my tongue around a cock, and that’s what I’m currently fixated on.
I pull out my phone. Lists always help me sort through my thoughts. I recall Ariana’s stories and tap my fingers against the screen rapidly.
Keaton’s To-Do List for Sex
Number 1: Blow jobs.
Number 2: Dirty talk.
Number 3: New positions.
Number 4: Anal.
Num—
My typing is interrupted by a nagging thought. Keaton, it pokes, you’re single. Are you going to go out every night and hook up with randos, hoping they’ll be cool with you experimenting sexually on them?