“We need to talk to Deaton first.”
“Kiss me.” He cups my face, and I reach to meet him. It’s not a crazy kiss, not like last night, but it’s certainly not a friendly peck either.
“Mom?”
Brad and I spring apart, and I clear my throat. “Deat, honey, um…”
He blinks up at us. “Are you guys… dating now?”
Brad puts an arm around my shoulder. “Now might be a good time to ask if it’s okay with you?”
My heart flutters at his words as I stare at my little boy.
Deaton’s surprised look turns into a huge grin. “For real?”
“Yep. If she’ll have me, though apparently I can’t cook, so we’ll be eating out.”
“Can I come too?” He bounces up and down.
“Of course, but Mom gets to pick the first restaurant, that’s the deal.”
“Deal.”
They high five.
“So, you’re okay with me and Brad?” I clarify. “I know it’s a bit of a shock, we’ve been friends all this time.”
Deaton gives me a strange look, then says, “Come on, Mom. It’s pretty freaking obvious.” He rolls his eyes, then takes off, remembering he’s meant to be playing hide and seek with Mason’s nephews.
“That went well,” Brad laughs.
“Kids,” I agree. “He looked a little horrified that we were kissing.”
“He’s six, kissing is gross when you’re that age.”
I turn to look at him. “I’ll try not to overthink things, but in return you can wipe that smug look off your face.”
He leans in, his mouth pressing against my neck. “I’m smug because I ate your pussy last night…and I liked it.”
I smack my forehead. “God help me.”
He chuckles, peppering kisses into my neck. “I wanna do it again.”
“Now I know where my G-spot is, I want you to do it again, too.”
He bursts into laughter, pulling me onto his lap, and we kiss like I’ve never been kissed before.
Bradley
“He’s my mom’s boyfriend, but they went to school together when they were my age,” Deaton explains at the Buddy Day when it’s his turn to talk. “So I don’t have a dad, but I do have a Brad. He’s pretty cool. He sells really big houses in LA, and he drives a Porsche.”
Some of the kids ooh and ahh. I roll my lips, trying not to laugh. We wore our matching soccer sweatsuits, and I can’t help but feel like this is one of the best days ever. A few of the other kids don’t have a dad either, and they brought a family friend, a grandpa, or an uncle instead. I’m just glad Deaton is happy, that’s all that matters.
“Thank you, Deaton,” Mrs. Kite says, giving me a warm smile. “And thank you to your mom for supplying all the yummy treats today.”
Of course, Chelsea couldn’t help herself.
I high-five Deaton as we make our way back to our seats. Afterwards, I mingle with some of the dads, and while I’m not there to drum up business, a few of the guys ask for a card.
