I pull Laken over me and we indulge in a mouthwatering kiss, the appetizer to a promising meal.
We don’t talk about Coop anymore.
21
Black Water
Skyla
Sometimes the most dangerous people you know are those you know most intimately. That’s one lesson I’ve learned more than once in my short life. But today, we’re celebrating someone I know intimately and is the least dangerous person on the planet, Logan Oliver. It’s July twenty-first, and I’ve invited everyone we know down to Pike’s Reef for a day of sun and fun—and as luck and a quick chat with my mother would have it, Logan indeed has all the sunshine he wants on this, his twenty-third birthday. But as luck and my moronic generosity would have it, I’ve invited some of the most dangerous people I know.
Chloe sits beside me on a folding chair and Laken next to her as we sink our feet into the sand and watch the kids play at the shoreline. Giselle and Ellis are the self-appointed lifeguards since none of us could waddle our way to save a single soul. Logan, Gage, Wes, Coop, Brody, and Marshall are hitting the surf off in the distance. At this point, they’re as small as ants and I couldn’t tell you which one was catching a wave. I hope it’s Logan. I hope Gage is spending most of his time under water contemplating how to drown himself for the misery he’s putting us through.
Chloe’s belly is obnoxiously big, much like her ego. Laken, however, still looks lean and mean, a tiny bump that looks as if it might put her somewhere around the six-month mark, definitely not the nine months that she is.
Both Chloe and Laken are due in three weeks. Go figure. I, however, am as large as I was with the boys—and Sage, although I lost her somewhere just before the middle of my pregnancy. But the doctor has assured both Logan and me that there is just the one baby floating around in this Olympic swimming pool I’ve provided.
Nathan and Barron have decided I’m having a T-Rex and they can hardly wait to play with their dinosaur. Nathan cried himself to sleep the other night because he was sure the baby was going to eat his toes. Logan has been such a good father to them. Half the time it’s Logan who wants to push their bedtime just so they can continue playing their war games with his old army men and Hot Wheels set.
Gage seems okay with it. But he’s present, too. Just not during those sweet moments in the night, those precious groggy hours of the morning. But we’re adjusting.
He doesn’t ever ask to have the boys spend the night, and I don’t pry and ask why. I know why. He’s got a real live wicked witch taking up residence in his bedroom. I’m sure he doesn’t want the boys exposed to the toxin he’s allowed to leach into his life any more than they have to. But oddly, the boys seem to tolerate Chloe well. And Chloe seems to tolerate my instructions as if her life depended on it. I hate that Chloe is proving to be a decent stepmother to the boys. I hate that some part of me admits to it. Every cell in my body is still screaming, shouting with all they’ve got,how is this my life?
I certainly don’t know. I may never know.
The sun might hide from Paragon, but the heat has certainly found us. It’s already been a long, emotional summer, starting in early June when Mia and Melissa graduated from West Paragon High. It seemed as if it took an eternity for me to do it, and with them it felt like a whimper. I suppose they would have a different story to tell. And a part of me wonders if it would be as alarming as my own high school scholastic tale.
Laken shifts uncomfortably. “God, I can hardly move. It feels as if my pubic bone thingy is splitting in half. How about you, Chloe?”
Chloe shifts her dark eyes my way. “My husband splits my pubis every single night and I don’t mind a bit.”
“What?” Bree and Em come upon us with Bree kicking up sand with every other step. “So he’s finally giving you the baseball bat, huh?”
“Oh, shut up, Brielle.” Chloe struggles to rise before hulking her way down to the waterline and Michelle is quick to join her.
“It’s diastasis symphysis pubis—the thingy. That’s what it’s called,” I say to Laken, trying my best not to get my blood boiling over the baseball bat comment. My jaw tenses as I look to Bree. “What do you mean he’s finally giving her the baseball bat?” I happened to know that baseball bat is basically code for Gage’s abnormally long fifth appendage. But as fate and my delicious luck would have it, Logan is just the same size. Those Oliver boys really are hung like horses.
Bree’s cheeks are pinched red from the sun, but if I had to guess, they’re picking up color due to her discomfort as well.
“Never mind.” She’s quick to wave me off. “There are some conversations you’re simply not privy to. Chloe is my other bestie, and I need to be there for her when the going gets tough. And let’s just say, it’s not all wedded bliss at the Oliver residence.”
“Huh.” I glance her way and my heart thumps wildly as if it had a shred of hope Gage still loved me somewhere deep inside. Not that it would change anything between Logan and me, but my pride likes the idea of him pining for me.
Lex bops over and lands in the sand before us.
Em grunts over at her, “Someone is chipper. I’m guessing you heard the news?”
“News?” I crane my neck to get a better look at her. Em has the tiniest red bikini on and her left boob is totally exposed as baby Ella suckles off her. “What news?”
“I don’t know.” Em is suddenly playing it coy. “Lex, why don’t you tell us the latest developments inAs My Oliver Turns.”
“Uh-oh.” I cringe because I can feel it coming. Lex and Michelle have been warring for months now.
Lex shrugs it off. Her skin is just as copper as her hair, and her tiny body looks like something I could only dream to have again one day. She’s wearing a one-piece with so many cutouts and zigzags it looks alarmingly sexy. But I’m not worried about Logan taking a second look at her, no sirree.
That sweet spot between my legs seems to have put quite the spell on that boy. Gage used to make love to me with an ardent desperation. But Logan is fierce, like an owner who’s come back to claim what’s his. And he does claim it. Night after night. I’m too big for the butterfly room, so we’ve had to get creative with the boys sharing the same air space. Let’s just say I’m intimately familiar with my closet and bathroom. And thank God that the boys wake up at the crack of dawn and head downstairs to their Mee-maw because Logan and I have grown to appreciate the finer points of morning sex, too. Good thing, because all these hormones have me craving a good long, hard Oliver baseball bat. And Logan is hitting a homer each and every time.
“What is it?” Laken kicks her swollen foot at her.
