I couldn’t stay still if I tried. I buck and thrash, feeling the damp fabric of the pillows underneath my hips as the combination of sweat and our arousal continues to leak down between us. Ivy is gloriously naked on top of me, straddling my thigh almost horizontally while holding the tennis ball-shaped end of the vibrator between us so we can both grind our clits against it at the same time. Her skin is hot, like liquid fire licking at my skin everywhere we touch. My pussy is raw, aching, so overly sensitized that there’s absolutely no way in hell that I could?—
“Holy shit, IVY!” I scream when she pinches my nipple. A warm dribble leaks down my breast—the milk that has recently started to come in. It’s almost embarrassing, but Ivy places her thumb between her lips and sucks the milk from her skin, and I’m a goner. The orgasm that hits me is brutal, violent and sharp like a blow to the stomach that leaves me gasping for air. On top of me, Ivy grinds downharder and throws her head back, moaning out her own release while I fight for my next breath.
When she finally switches off the toy and flops onto the mattress next to me, I’m happy for relief. That is, until she leans over and sucks one of my leaking nipples into her mouth. It’s like a shot of exquisite pain and pleasure right to my clit, and I’m sure if I hadn’t just spent the last little while coming my brains out, I would have another tiny orgasm right now.
“Ivy Crowe, are you drinking my breast milk?” I ask, my voice raspy from all the sex sounds. She moans and nods, sucking harder. I can feel the release of liquid from my nipple, an odd but familiar sensation. “And how do I taste?”
She lets go of my nipple with a wet pop, then kisses me on the lips.
“Like the sweetest strawberry jam, Lilah baby.”
We shower together, whispering our gentle ‘I love you’s like the most devoted of prayers. And later when Sadie is home, the four of us—Little Bean included—cuddle on the couch while Ivy and Sadie play their video games and I watch them, feeling for the first time in a long time like everything is exactly as it's supposed to be.
EPILOGUE - DON’T SAY HIS NAME
IVY
“Can you believe this is my first manicure ever?”
“Honey, your cuticles are a goddamn nightmare. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve never gotten a manicure in any of your past lives, either.” Brandy files away at my short nails, her nose scrunched up in disgust at the state of my cuticles.
“Seriously, Ivy. You work with your hands. You have them all over your clients, don’t you think you should make sure they’re presentable?”
That comes from Mindy, who is sitting in one of the rolling massage pedicure chairs with her feet soaking in water and bath salts. She has one hand resting on her belly bump and the other held out for one of Brandy’s assistants, who is coating Mindy’snails in polish. Next to her, Sadie and Delilah sit in their own massage chairs, not even trying to hide their laughter at the other women’s nagging.
It’s only been a few weeks since Earl died—or at least, officially became dead to us—but it’s been a long road. Ultimately, he did everything James told him to do. His and Delilah’s divorce was finalized quickly since she was asking for nothing from him but custody, which he signed over. He also surrendered any legal rights to parenting Sadie and Little Bean, a last-minute decision from Delilah and me. Child support might have been nice, but the possibility of me one day adopting the kids officially was nicer, and I can more than afford to take care of all of us.
He does still have to pay child support to Mindy, who came to Delilah and apologized a few days after Earl skipped town. It wasn’t an easy conversation and to her credit, Mindy wasn’t expecting forgiveness for knowingly sleeping with a married man. She did confess some insecurities and told us that she’s been going to therapy since the beginning of her pregnancy because she wants to be the best person she can be for her child.
Things between them are still a little rocky, and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully trust Mindy, but her son and our daughters are siblings. It’s in the best interestof everyone involved if we adults get along, so we’ve all been making an effort. Brandy makes a good buffer for all of us and her salon serves a neutral ground where we can all get along.
“Just be thankful she’s not asking you to go near her feet,” Delilah calls over. “They’re gnarly.”
“Oh hush, Lilah. Not all of us can have perfect, dainty little toes. Some of us unfortunately still resemble the primates we evolved from.”
“You like my perfect, dainty little toes,” she winks at me, and I shiver. I really, really do. Never in my life did I think I had a foot fetish, but Delilah drags it out of me.
“Is this some sort of weird sex thing? Because if so, stop it. Sadie and I don’t need to hear that.” Mindy cups her hands over Sadie’s ears and she giggles, lighting up the room with her megawatt smile.
“At least they’re having sex,” Brandy grumbles. “I haven’t been laid since?—”
“Don’t say his name,” Delilah, Mindy and I all say at once. Earl has become our own personal Beetlejuice. We try not to talk about him for fear of him randomly appearing again.
I glance over my shoulder, just in case.
“I have to get out of this tub,” Delilah exclaimssuddenly, rapidly pressing buttons on the chairs remote control. “Vee, help me get out of this tub.”
I’m on my feet in a second, cuticle oil and wet nail polish be damned.
“What’s the matter, Lilah? Is the water too hot?” I hold her hand and help her stand, placing my other hand on her lower back to guide her out of the pedicure tub.
“It’s not that water, it’s my water,” she glances down at the chair, which is now covered in liquid. The back of her dress is wet and clinging to her thighs. “We have to go to the hospital. I’m having a baby.”
All the air leaves my lungs and the only thing keeping me standing steady is the knowledge that if I faint, Lilah is going down with me.
“Holy shit. You’re having a baby?”
“Holy shit, Mama! You’re having a baby?”
