“Our daughter,” I agreed, feeling that warm flutter at how naturally the words came out.
“Yeah!Ourdaughter!” Debbie bounced in her car seat, never missing a single word despite claiming to never hear Theo’s nightly call to brush her teeth. “That means I have two daddies and I can eat weird food because families support each other’s life choices.”
“That’s not how family support . . . or life choices . . . work,” Theo said, but he was smiling.
By the time we reached the house, Debbie had moved on to planning what she’s dubbed “Operation Dragon Wedding”—our apparently inevitable future ceremony featuring forty-seven unicorns, a castle cake, and mandatory sparkles for all guests. She had also decided Theo would wear dragon wings she’d seen on some TV show, while I was going to don a unicorn horn on my forehead.
“That might make the ‘you may now kiss your husband’ part difficult,” I pointed out.
Debbie was undaunted. “You kiss all the time. This will give the wedding lots of drama.”
Theo snort-laughed at that.
Once home, getting her changed and packed for her sleepover was like negotiating with a tiny, sugar-powered diplomat. She insisted on bringing three unicorn books, a plastic tiara, two pairs of sunglasses, and inexplicably, a spatula from the kitchen.
“Why do you need a spatula at a sleepover?” I asked.
“In case we need to make pancakes. Chloe’s mom makes terrible pancakes. This spatula has magic flipping powers.”
When Chloe’s mom arrived, Debbie hugged us both goodbye with an enthusiasm that suggested she was leaving for a month-long expedition.
“Don’t plan the wedding without me,” she called from the back seat. “And remember, if you do, dragons are non-negotiable!”
The sudden silence after they drove away was deafening.
We stood in the driveway for a moment, both still in our wedding attire—Theo in his navy suit that made his eyes impossibly dark, me in the dark gray ensemble Sisi had declared “criminally handsome.”
“So,” Theo said finally, loosening his tie with movements that were somehow both casual and incredibly sexy.
“So,” I agreed, unable to look away from his hands.
“We’re alone.”
“We are.”
“For the entire night.”
We looked at each other for another beat, and then we were both moving, practically racing back to the house like teenagers darting behind the bleachers during a football game.
Theo fumbled with the doorknob while I pressed against his back, breathing in his cologne mixed with traces of wedding cake frosting and Mrs. H’s questionable battle cries.
“I can’t get the damn thing to—”
“Here, let me—”
I reached around him, shoving my body against his so he could feel the already throbbing erection inside my dress pants. The door finally opened, and we stumbled inside, immediately tangling up in each other like we’d been separated for months. Theo’s jacket hit the floor near the entryway, followed by my tie, and then his hands were in my hair and my mouth was on his neck.
“God, I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” Theo breathed against my ear. “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself during that reception?”
“You mean while Debbie was conducting dragon research interviews and Mrs. H was giving cultural education seminars to security guards?”
“Especially then. Something about wedding chaos makes you fucking sexy,” he said.
“Just wedding chaos?” I feigned hurt feelings.
“Well, regular chaos, too. And when you’re being responsible. And when you’re laughing at Debbie’s jokes. And pretty much always, actually.”
I kissed him then, deep and thorough, pouring all my love and pent-up passion into the press of my lips against his.
