My god. He acts so casual. I glare down at him. I swear he’s walking slower. When our eyes meet, he smirks.
The jerk knows what I’m going through. That I’m in constant need of, well, him. I mean, heshouldknow. He’s lived through this two other times. And he loves it.
Morethan loves it.
I’m pretty sure it’s why he keeps trying to knock me up. He knows about four or five months in, I’m on him like Velcro on a kid’s shoe.
Turning, I face Candy. “He’ll be right up.” Picking up the small suitcase I packed for the kids, I set it next to the door.
“You’re pretty anxious to get rid of me.” She chortles.
“I, um, still need to get ready and, um, so does he.” After I fuck his brains out, that is, but I’m not about to share that little tidbit with my sister. That’s too much information.
“Gotcha.” She smiles and gestures to the living space “I love the new paint color.”
“Me, too.” I was tired of the white walls. That, and Lillie used her very best drawing skills to create a two-foot-by-ten-foot mural on the main wall one day. I hated to paint over it, because she draws the best stuff. This one was our entire family. And I mean the entire family including Munsels and Griffins. According to Lillie, it’s why she needed “the biggest wall”.
“What are the odds Lillie won’t draw on it again?”
“There’s a 100 percent chance she’ll try. It’ll be up to us to stop her before she starts.” I smile at my three-year-old as she prances into the house. She makes a beeline for Aunt Candy.
“Hi there, pooh bear. Ready for a slumber party?”
“Yes!” she shouts.
Reaching for my little one, I pick her up. “You’ve got something all over your shirt.”
“It’s worm poo, Mama.”
“Goodie.” Yep. That’s sarcasm.
I arch my brow at Sam, who’s just entered the room with Christopher at his side. Every time I see the two of them together, I sigh, because they are the two handsomest guys I’ve ever seen. And as Christopher’s gotten older, he not only looks just like his dad, but his mannerisms are identical, too.
“Hi, Aunt Candy-Cane.”
Sam looks at Candy and smiles. “Hey, Sis.”
“Hi, guys.” She steps over to him and kisses him on the cheek, then she messes up Christopher’s dark locks. He doesn’t mind. He just runs his hand through it again.
The thought of the worm poo comment makes me look over at my son. “Christopher. Wash your hands, please.”
“Okay, Mom.” He’s such a good kid. I swear, from the moment he was born, he was easy-peasy. Lillie, on the other hand, is a lot of work. “Come on, stinker. Let’s get you washed up and changed. Aunt Candy’s got fun plans for you tonight.”
“Cookies!” my youngest shouts in my ear.Rightin my ear.
The thing is, Lillie is probably right. When they go to one of their aunts, uncles, or grandparents’ homes for the night, they both come back full as ticks with treats. According to my mom, “It’s a family’s prerogative to spoil the children.”
I suppose she’s right.
And if it means I’ll be able to get my husband naked in about fifteen minutes, then so be it. A few cookies never hurt anyone. Am I right?
Well, maybe if you’re diabetic then cookies probably aren’t a smart idea. Or if you’re allergic to sugar. Again. Not a smart move to eat cookies.
Anyway, you get my meaning.
As Lillie washes her hands, I find an outfit free of worm poo. I’ve got her changed and her hair brushed in no time. The poor thing got stuck with my red hair. It’s just as unruly as mine, but Lillie’s is a deeper tone. I’d call it auburn. I’ve thought about dying mine to match, because it’s quite pretty, but I haven’t done it yet.
“Mama?” I look down at my sweet girl as I braid her hair.
