But if you are being buried alive in the snow, can I have your Le Creuset collection?
Sky
ADDISON GRACE RIGGS! THAT’S SO MORBID!!!
but hypothetically speaking who gets the louboutins dad bought you that you never wore??
asking for a friend.
Even in the worst crisis, they could make me smile.
“The girls?” Teddy asked.
I nodded and passed him the phone so he could read the messages. “The vultures are already dividing up my estate.”
It buzzed again, and he swiped his thumb across the screen before drawling, “Skylar.”
“Father,” she said, deepening her voice to match his register. “Why are you answering Mom’s phone?”
“He hasn’t murdered me, if that’s what you’re wondering!” I called from across the table.
“Yet,” Teddy added, his eyes holding mine in a way that made my skin feel too warm. Too tight. “Day’s still young, though.”
“Funny.” I reached for the phone, but instead of handing it back, he got up and brought his chair around the table to mine, angling the screen so we were both in frame. His shoulder pressed against mine, warm and solid. I tried not to react to the contact.
Sky’s green eyes bounced between us as she scooted over to make room for Addie. Our eldest daughter’s long dark hair was twisted into a messy bun on top of her head, her glasses perched low on her nose like she’d just rolled out of bed, which, knowing her, she likely had.
“We got worried when we didn’t hear back from you,” she said before frowning. “What’s wrong with your head?”
My fingers moved over the bandage near my hairline. “Just a little cut from the accident. Your dad patched me up.”
“Did he patch up your neck, too?” Sky asked, hiding her smile behind the rim of a cheerful red mug.
I tugged my hair forward, but not before Addie clocked the marks on my throat. “Are those… hickeys?”
“What? No!” The denial shot out of me so fast and high-pitched that even I didn’t believe it. Of all the things for my daughters to notice through a grainy video call, it had to be the evidence of their father’s mouth on my skin.
“They’re from—” I scrambled for a plausible explanation while my brain helpfully replayed every second of our hallway makeout session in slow motion.
Your father’s mouth. And beard. And teeth.
“Road rash,” Teddy interjected smoothly.
“Weird. I didn’t realize you could get road rash when you were inside the car.” Sky’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Seatbelt had your mama pinned. Had to cut through it just to get her out.” His hand found my thigh beneath the table, stopping its nervous bouncing before continuing, “Lucky she walked away with just a few bumps and bruises. Could have been a lot worse. Right, Kels?”
I nodded, probably too enthusiastically, trying to ignore the way his thumb had started tracing lazy circles against my leg. “Right,” I finally managed, my voice only slightly strained. “Just grateful to be in one piece.”
Both girls stared at us through the screen, and I could practically see the wheels turning in their heads. Sky’s eyes were bright with barely contained excitement, while Addie wore the satisfied expression of a woman whose carefully laid plans were coming to fruition.
“But to get them on your jaw? Must have been some creative seatbelt placement,” she said, adjusting her glasses with a smirk.
“Airbag,” I blurted out, my voice going up an octave.
Teddy’s hand squeezed my thigh, whether in warning or reassurance, I couldn’t tell. The heat from his palm seared through the denim, making it impossible to think of anything but how those same hands had lifted me against the wall earlier. My breathing picked up, shallow and quick, and I had to force myself not to squirm in my seat.
“Well,” Sky said, dragging out the word with obvious glee, “sounds like Dad really had to work to get you free. Must have been very... thorough.”
