“He’s not my stepbrother,” Etta protests with a laugh.
“Thank God, because it’d be a nightmare to explain to that kid that their daddy is also their uncle,” Octavia quips.
“Fuck you,” Etta says, still smiling and laughing.
“Brother,” Oz says, holding his hand out to me to shake.
Reaching over, I grip his palm and nod.
When the girls finally separate, Etta steps backward into Oz, curling herself into his side so naturally it looks almost instinctual, like her body is craving his. I want my doll to behave that way with me. I want her to need me with the same level of addiction that I feel for her.
Reminded of the need, my skin prickles with the urge to feel her close to me, so I band my arm around her and pull her backward until her back is pressed against my chest.
“Ohhh,” Etta says, looking between Octavia and me, her lips parted in surprise.
“Yeah, about that—” Doll starts.
“This is your wife?” Oz yells, his eyebrows arched so high they almost hit his hairline.
“Yes,” I tell him simply.
“Wife?” Etta asks. “You got married and didn’t tell me?” she asks Octavia.
There’s a long pause while we all wait for her to speak. I know I could answer the question for her, but I won’t. I want her to say the words. I want to hear her claim me, the way I’ve been claiming her since the moment we met.
“Yes,” she finally says.
“Holy shit,” Etta says, on a laugh. “When?”
“On Wednesday,” Doll admits.
“You got married three days ago, and I’m only just finding out?”
“We’ve been busy,” Octavia says quietly, a pink hue staining her skin.
“I bet you have,” Oz says suggestively. “But if our kids are going to grow up together, we need to get started on those houses.”
“Our house is already built. I can send you the information on my contractor if you’d like to break ground on yours,” I tell him.
“Are you pregnant already?” Etta asks Octavia.
“Of course not,” Doll immediately replies at the same time, I say, “Hopefully.”
“Hopefully?” Doll snaps, spinning around to glare at me. “You want to get me pregnant?”
“As soon as possible,” I tell her.
“I am not having a baby.”
“Yet,” Etta says, laughing, as Oz scoops her off the ground and into his arms again, leading us all across the street and in through the open front door of their house.
Taking Doll’s hand, I follow Oz, watching him lower his wife to the couch, then kiss her quickly before he heads into the kitchen.
“Beer or coffee?” he asks.
“I’ll take a beer,” Octavia answers.
“Coffee, please,” I say.
