Maddox plops Carter next to his brother before grabbing a mop. While the boys watch a show, the four of us work together to erase all the evidence of yellow footprints and paw prints from the house.
When Maddox returns from taking the trash out, he washes his hands and eyes me across the counter. “In addition to all this,” he says, waving toward the boys, “the oven crapped out on us this afternoon and I can’t figure out how to fix it myself. So, how’s pizza sound?”
“Perfect,” I assure him.
“Pee-zah!” Miles screams.
As Maddox pulls out his phone, Carter hurdles over the back of the couch and runs to his dad. “Extra pepperonis!”
Vivian uses the dish towel to soak up a puddle on the counter, then leans against the surface. “I could use a glass of wine. Want one?”
Fable settles into a barstool. “Yes, please.”
While Vivian heads to their wine fridge, I glance down at Fable—at the perfectly torturous view of the way her sweater dips to her cleavage and that adorable freckle that lives right in the soft swell of skin.
The first time I noticed that freckle, we were seventeen, and she and Mia were getting ready for a trip to the river. Fable breezed in the kitchen door. Bright orange bikini top. Cut-off jean shorts. Sunglasses in her wild hair. And so much bare skin.
My heart forgot how to beat.
All I could see were her sensual curves. Strong thighs. Tiny orange straps. Freckles cascading over her collarbones and down her chest. Then my eyes landed on one freckle in particular, bigger than the rest, sitting low enough to be hidden from the world normally.
My attraction to Fable has always felt like a living, breathing thing inside me, but most of the time I can ignore it well enough. That day, however, itroaredbehind my rib cage. My subconscious said,Mine. That freckle is mine.
I have no right to it, obviously, but that hasn’t stopped me from looking for it every time I see her. I’m in for a long night with that freckle on display. A long night of wondering what it would feel like to press my lips there. How sweet her skin would taste on my tongue.
“You’re staring,” she whispers.
“Hard not to,” I admit.
Voice dipped low, she murmurs, “People in real relationships aren’tconstantlystaring at each other. You’re going a little overboard.”
I’m undeterred, still staring, following the cascade of pink as it flows over her cheeks and down her neck. Ican’t help myself—I lean into her ear and whisper, “You’re blushing again.”
Her lips tighten. “That’s annoyance you’re seeing.”
“I don’t think so,” I tease.
Fiery hazel eyes meet mine. “Iwillmurder you.” She pastes on a smile when Vivian walks back in, but out of view, she reaches over and pinches my side. Hard.
“They were in rare form tonight.” Maddox drops into the empty seat beside his wife and starts disassembling the magnetic block tower that Miles insisted we have on the table for dinner. “Carter was convinced I needed to kiss every stuffie good night before he could go to sleep.”
“And you did it, right?” I ask, running my hand over Chewie’s head in my lap.
“Hell yeah, I did,” Maddox confirms. “Anything for bedtime.”
“It could be genetic,” Vivian says, slouching in her chair and propping her bare feet on Maddox’s thighs. He abandons the blocks and rubs the arch of her foot. “When I was a kid, I had to tell every single one of my Beanie Babies good night. There were at least thirty. It was a long ritual.”
My lips curve up. “Fable and Mia were obsessed with Beanie Babies too.”
“We were,” Fable admits with a sigh. “Had quite the collection. Ieven adopted all my sisters’ once they were tired of them.”
“They wouldn’t let me play with them,” I add. I still remember the orange construction paper sign they’d tape to Mia’s door.A little stick figure me, with wavythis-boy-stinkslines coming off it.
Fable rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of course I was. You were my friend first!”
That comment seems to surprise her. Maybe she meant that I was jealous of their Beanie Baby collection, but no. Iwas jealous every time she gravitated toward Mia and left me out. She was my first friend in a new town, and half the time, I lost her to my little sister.
