Foundations: A Happy Ever After Romance (The Walsh Series Book 9)

by Kate Canterbary

  I pulled a pen from my pocket. Clicked it open, then closed. "Go ahead, Optimus."

  "Stop it with the pen, Jugger."

  Clicked it six more times in rapid succession. "I don't have all day."

  "If you're going to be obnoxious, you can ask Riley for advice," he said.

  Another six times. "Riley takes his fiancée out for sandwiches. I need to do a little better than that. Nothing served in a plastic basket, you know?"

  "Then ask Sam," Patrick replied.

  "The list of things Sam doesn't eat is longer than what he does and I'm not taking Lauren out for a fuckin' smoothie bowl." Another click. "I guess I could just call your wife. We all know she's the one with real taste."

  Patrick reached for his pencil and scribbled in his notebook. "Go ahead," he murmured. "I'm just cutting your budget in half."

  "Hey." Another click. "I'm waiting on you, man. You've got all the info and I'm ready to hear it."

  "Abstinence has turned you into a dickhead," he muttered.

  Family. It didn't get much better than this.

  3

  Lauren

  "Am I supposed to drink the rest of this by myself?" Andy asked, a slim finger pointed toward the pitcher of spiced mules between us.

  I glanced at my mostly full copper mug and responded with a shrug. "I've been off the sauce for almost a year. I need some time to build up my tolerance."

  "That's fine and everything," Andy replied, "but I can't be the only drunk one here. It's awkward. It's strange. It gives people the wrong idea about me."

  "I don't know, Andy. I think holding my newborn baby in one arm while pounding hard liquor with the other gives people a pretty bad idea too."

  She held up her hands as if to flick away the thought of anyone judging a new mother.

  "Do you think Madeleine will let us dress her up in the turkey costume? What about posing in the roasting pan? I brought carrots and celery and sage to make it look authentic. She'd look so freaking cute with a bunch of sage in her chubby little fist." Andy tilted her head to get a better look at the baby sleeping on my shoulder. "We could line the pan with a little blanket. It would be just like putting her in the bassinet."

  I glanced at the assortment of props splayed over my kitchen island. I hadn't noticed the roasting pan until now. "Let's skip that one," I said with a quiet laugh. "I need her to sleep now so she'll be on the right schedule tonight."

  Andy topped off her mug. "What's happening tonight?"

  Without conscious thought, I let out a lengthy sigh. "Matthew and I are trying to get out of the house for a bit. Dinner and…whatever."

  She glanced at me over the rim of her mug. "That's what we call it now? 'Whatever'?" When I didn't reply, she continued, "Is this where I'm supposed to inquire about sex after childbirth? It's still good, right? Tell me it's not a mine shaft. I can't handle that."

  "You can inquire," I said. "I don't have any insight on the matter since I haven't had sex after childbirth."

  Andy gasped, pressed her hand to her breastbone. "No. No, not you."

  "Me," I replied with a grave nod. "It doesn't make sense but when I think about it, I understand how it happened. First off, twenty-six hours of labor followed by a C-section meant my lady business was closed for the season. Real talk, I didn't want anyone in my amusement park that first month. Most of the second month too."

  "Understandable," Andy murmured, raising her mug in salute.

  "Then the double case of mastitis took me down for another week or two. And don't forget, this kid refused to sleep at night until recently. By recently, I mean Tuesday. If we didn't have my parents here to help out, I wouldn't have noticed the shortage of sex in my marriage because I would've been crying right along with the baby."

  "Wow," she breathed. "Wow."

  "Yeah." I took a small sip of my mule. It was delicious but my head was already soft and loose from the liquor, and I couldn't have that. I didn't want to sleep through date night.

  "What did Shannon say when you told her about this dry spell?" Andy asked.

  I busied myself with straightening Maddie's blanket. "I haven't told her."

  Andy laughed. "Somehow, that doesn't seem like a barrier to Shannon knowing everything."

  "Also true but I don't think it occurred to her this would be an issue," I replied. "Think about it. This is not a problem Shannon's encountered in her marriage. She was pregnant with her second baby by the time the first was three months old. If she had any trouble coming back after either of those deliveries, I haven't heard about it."

  "Maybe she'll take more time after this next one arrives in February," Andy said. "Or maybe she'll be finished after three."

  "I can't imagine more than one. I might be with Tiel on this topic. One and done," I said, laughing. "But I think Maddie is turning the corner with her sleep schedule and that means good things for everyone."

  "And you're going out tonight for dinner and whatevering," Andy added. "Good things for everyone."

  "That's the plan," I said. "I'm just going to tell him I'm ready. Maybe hike my dress up and hang some flashing lights. That's all I can do because my subtle hints haven't worked."

  She stabbed her finger at me. "Maybe he's staying away from your amusement park because he thinks the rides are still closed. That is a fair and valid assumption. I can see Patrick grappling with that issue. He'd wait until I had a permit from the city. I mean, he requires written notice from me when shark week is over. If I don't say something, he'll stay away for a full month. He doesn't mind but he knows I don't like sex during that time. But he'd never ask for an update on my period. It's just not his style." She tipped her mug toward me. "Maybe it's that."

  "Or maybe we aren't the people who have sex just about every day. Not anymore," I said, hating the sound of those words. It wasn't about the sex itself. It was the intimacy. The closeness that was more than hugging, kissing, holding each other. It was the way we knew each other, and it'd always been that way. "Things have changed. Our time together is different. Our priorities are different. Maybe we're a different couple now." I pursed my lips as I glanced down at Madeleine, not wanting to cry again. "Relationships change."

  "Don't say that," she warned, still stabbing that finger at me. "Don't you dare say that because if you can't have a kid and keep it together, I don't have a shot in hell of doing it."

  I waved my hand at the hot mess that was my house. Even with the help of my parents and my best friends, it looked like the aftermath of a baby supply store explosion. It would only get worse once my parents left. "I don't have anything together. I've showered, put on clean clothes, and kept this baby dry and fed. That's the best I can do right now."

  With a hum, she settled her feet on the ottoman. "But you're going back to work next week. Right?"

  After a pause, I said, "Yeah, I'm back part time starting Monday. I'm working mornings until—"

  "Don't kid yourself. You'll be there all day," she interrupted with a knowing smile. Perfectionists knew how to spot each other in a crowd.

  "Yeah, probably," I admitted. "Or not. I don't know how it's going to go yet. I don't know how I'm going to feel about leaving Maddie at home. I'm having—I'm just not sure about anything yet."

  Andy's lips turned down in a deep frown as she considered this. She sipped her drink and stared at the baby, then said, "The one thing I've realized in the past few years is that it's tough balancing it all. And I say that as a person with very little in need of balancing."

  "Torsion," I murmured.

  "Hmm? What was that?"

  I smiled, shook my head. "Nothing," I replied. "Go ahead. I was just thinking out loud."

  "I have Patrick and my job and that's it. We don't have kids or pets or any extraordinary family commitments. I have a couple of succulents but I can't call those commitments. I don't have much on my plate so I don't have much business complaining about the struggle of finding balance but it's legit."

  "It is," I agreed. "I want to be
able to do it all and do it well. I want to be a great school leader and a sexy wife and an awesome mom, and I want to spend time with my friends and accomplish more than showering and dressing and being tired each day."

  "But sometimes showering and dressing is doing it all," Andy said. "As I'm coming to see it, balance requires a flexible view of success. Sometimes I have fifteen or twenty active projects and getting through the week without chucking my phone out the window is the best I can do. Other times, I can plan a dinner party, go to pedicure night, get in enough yoga to keep me sane, and give Patrick the attention he needs, all while keeping a handle on my properties and watering those succulents." She refilled her mug again. "It's all about how I choose to define my version of doing it all. It's whatever I want and 'all' doesn't have to be consistent. My all today doesn't have to be my all tomorrow."

  "Yeah," I said. "And tonight, my definition of doing it all begins and ends with my husband."

  She glanced down at her left hand, adjusting the diamond sitting on her fourth finger, the new wedding band behind it. "I might do the same thing."

  I put my hand on her forearm. "I'm going to put Maddie down. Help me pick out something to wear, okay?" I glanced down at my yoga pants. "I don't know what looks good anymore and I'll die before I put on another maternity dress."

  She topped off her mug and stood. "This is not a problem," she said. "You have something I don't which is boobs for days. You also have ride-or-die sexy lingerie. You can make those puppies look good. I'm talking Victoria's Secret runway show good."

  "I'm not sure my lingerie still fits." I cringed. "My rib cage is a little"—I held hands apart, miming my new width—"not in the same place it used to be."

  "Doesn't matter," she replied with a wave of her hand. "We'll stuff them in. We'll make it work. You have some coconut oil, right? That always works. If all else fails, we pack up the wee babe and take her shopping."

  "All right," I said with a slow nod.

  "Then we move onto shoes," Andy continued. "You, my friend, are the queen of Come Fuck Me heels. You could wear those things with a ratty old bathrobe and he'd sit up and take notice."

  "I haven't worn heels in five months," I admitted. Another cringe.

  "It's just like having sex which is not unlike riding a bike," Andy replied. "It doesn't matter how long it's been because you'll remember how to do it once you start."

  "That's…encouraging," I murmured.

  "We've got the fundamentals: boobs, lingerie, shoes," she said. "The rest is easy."

  "Can that be the theme? Easy?" I asked.

  Andy frowned. "As in convenient or slutty?"

  "How about a little of both?"

  "Yeah, totally," she said, nodding. "Comfy-slutty is my favorite look."

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not certain I recognized the person looking back at me. It wasn't the body stuff, not entirely. But some, yes. My curves were curvier now. Rounder, wider, fuller, more substantial.

  I looked different. I was different.

  When I looked closely, I saw the physical changes but also the ones beneath the surface. I was stronger than I'd ever imagined possible. I trusted myself and my instincts more than before. I was whole, my body beginning to feel like my own again rather than parts lent out for others to use. I was a mother and a wife and woman, and I could be all of those. I wasn't limited to one.

  I wasn't panicked at the idea of leaving Madeleine with my parents. Not that I ever worried about leaving her with them but I had a good feeling about this night. Worst case, we'd arrive home to my dad singing "My Girl" while rocking her and my mother rearranging another room because we'd done it "wrong."

  Surviving three full months with my parents in my house was another accomplishment. I loved my parents, I really did, and I hated feeling ungrateful. My mother was wonderful and we were lucky to have her help. I wasn't sure how we would've managed without her. But honest to god, she had a true excess of opinions on all topics. It was difficult to deflect all of them while also caring for a newborn and recovering from major surgery plus hours of labor. Never mind the exhaustion and the husband who wasn't into me anymore.

  My father was equally wonderful. For all his gruff ways, he adored his granddaughter. Between him and my mother, they saved our sanity by taking Madeleine's early morning feedings. But my father also wanted Matthew dead. Perhaps not dead but he still hit my husband with more than enough hairy eyeballs to make his position clear. He wasn't printing Team Matthew t-shirts any time soon.

  I smoothed my hands over my dress, cocking my head to study the new flare of my hips, the swell of my breasts. If Andy was to be trusted, there was no mistaking the headline here: I was looking for some sexytimes.

  More than that, I was ready for those sexytimes. But it wasn't just sex for the sake of a getting laid. No, I needed to be close to Matthew in a way only I could. It took me a long time to get to this spot, longer than it took Tiel or Shannon, but I was here and I wanted to be wanted again.

  In the hallway, I heard Matthew say, "All right, Miss Madeleine. I need you to help me pick out a nice shirt. Do you think you can do that?"

  He stepped into the bedroom with her cradled against his chest and my heart thumped right into my throat. There was nothing hotter than a good man who was also a good father. Nothing in the world. Now that I thought about it, that explained a significant portion of my sexual frustration. He was the best father I could've asked for my baby. I knew it from the start and I knew it now, with his big hands holding her tiny body, her bottom in his palm, her fingers gripping his t-shirt.

  It damn near knocked me over.

  "Come here," I said, my words as tight and choked as I felt.

  "Say hi to mommy," he whispered as he stepped toward me. He looked me over, a quick up and down, but turned his attention back to the baby without reaction. Not even an arched eyebrow. What was I doing wrong? What was it going to take? "She looks extra pretty tonight, doesn't she?" He glanced at me again, meeting my gaze with a grin. "Maddie agrees. She just told me. She also said you're going to need to put on a scarf and a jacket if you think her grandfather is letting you out of the house like"—he shot a pointed look at the cleavage I had on display—"that."

  I didn't respond, instead folding them both into my arms. Maddie cooed and wiggled between us. I had it all. Right here, this was everything.

  Matthew pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. "It's a good thing you have the baby as a shield," he murmured.

  I ran my nails along his flanks, across his lower back. "Why is that?"

  I tilted my head to look up at him. I'd expected a lazy grin. I found his lips pursed in a harsh line, his eyes stony. His nostrils flared as he drew a breath. He seemed angry but—but it wasn't anger behind his eyes.

  "Why, Matthew?" I asked, driving my fingertips into his soft tissue the way he liked.

  He looped his arm around my waist, gifting me with a deep squeeze. "You're beautiful," he replied, his lips on my temple. "That's all I meant. You're so fucking beautiful it hurts."

  That was it. That was it. This was ending right here, right now. No conversation needed. Just action.

  "Set Maddie down," I ordered. "Put her on the floor with the quilt or in her bassinet. She's not going anywhere, she doesn't even roll over yet. Just come help me in the closet for a minute."

  Matthew hit me with a furrowed eyebrow. "You want me to help you. In the closet."

  I stepped back, held up my hands. "This is not one of those times when we have an elaborate conversation," I replied. "Put the baby down and get in the damn closet."

  "Yeah. You got it. All right, okay," he muttered to himself.

  I didn't stick around to watch, instead marching straight into our walk-in closet. I traveled the distance of that narrow room, my hands on my hips and my elbows brushing the precise line of Matthew's starched dress shirts as I went. If I kept moving, I'd keep my nerve but if I stopped, I was stopping. I'd lose my steam and let it all go beca
use it was too easy to believe I'd changed, we'd changed, everything had changed, and we'd never be the same again.

  Since I wasn't interested in bidding farewell to this moment, I continued pacing even when he stepped inside.

  "What—what is happening here?" He caught my hand, whirled me around, and tugged me into his arms. "What's going on?"

  And that was when I attacked him. I backed him against the full-length mirror, tore his belt right off, and dropped his zipper as my knees hit the floor. "I'm doing something I've been thinking about for months." I blew out a breath and yanked his jeans and boxers down. His hard cock sprang free. I glanced at his length and then up at him. "Please don't pretend it hasn't crossed your mind."

  "Lauren, get up," he said, reaching for me.

  I batted his hands away. "Say it, Matthew. Tell me you don't want me to suck your cock right now. Say it and then I'll get up."

  He stared at me with the same stony eyes and harsh twist to his lips he gave me not more than two minutes ago. His hands curled into fists, his breathing quickened.

  "Say it," I repeated, running my palms up his legs, back down again. My thumbs brushed his inner thighs, the tender spots around his base. "Say you don't want this. Say you don't want me. Say it and I'll stop."

  I treated him to another minute of teasing while his erection bobbed between us. "Of course I want you," he said with a rough whisper. "Of course I—oh, fuck."

  His words vanished when I took him into my mouth. I kept my fingers wrapped around his base as I stroked him with my tongue. He tasted perfect. Like he always did but somehow better because it'd been so long and I missed him so much.

  "This," Matthew started, the word fuzzy, as if he'd spoken it while asleep, "will be over quickly."

  "Mmhmm," I murmured around him.

  His head banged back against the mirror. He growled, he swore, he babbled incoherently.

  Yeah, I knew what I was doing.

  Then my mother showed up. "What is going on in here?" she cooed. It took me a second to realize she was using that tone because she was speaking to Madeleine. "Lolo? Are you in the bathroom, honey? I won't interrupt you. I know how you are about privacy."