“Maybe without swimmies?” he tests the waters.
“Definitely swimmies. Mommy says I need swimmies until I can hold my breath under the water.”
“You hold your breath under water when you’re in the tub. Why can’t you do it in the ocean?”
“There are no waves or fish in the tub!”
“Oh, is that the difference?”
“Yes!” Layla confirms, likeduh!
“Okay then.” He chuckles, placing Layla on the ground. “Be good for Mommy and Aunt Ellie.”
“And be a good big sister to Beckett,” she adds cheerfully.
“Yes,” Jett agrees while kissing her little forehead. I dissolve.
London and I both stand up and say good-bye to our men.
Once out of ear shot, London purrs so only I can hear. “I hate it when they leave, but god I love to watch them walk away,” she says as Kayne and Jett stride to the Jeep, muscled backs andtight asses on display.
I elbow her lightheartedly but can’t dispute her claim; their butts do look great in those pants.
LONDON AND I BOTH COLLAPSEon the bed.
“Where do you and Jett find the energy to do anything else besides run after those kids?”
“The part-time nanny is our lifesaver. She’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning so I can actually sleep.”
We had one crazy night keeping those children occupied, out of trouble, clean, and fed. Now that Beckett is running around, he never stops moving and gets into everything. I turned my back for one second and he had unraveled an entire roll of toilet paper into the toilet. Luckily, we caught him before he flushed. I left London to clean up the aftermath of that one.
“Are you sure you like my hair?” London asks self-consciously.
“Of course, I do.” I twirl a strand around my finger. “You could shave your head and still look like a supermodel. I hate you for that.”
“Stop.” She taps me lightly. “I do not look like a supermodel.”
“Sure.” I close my eyes and smile. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Whatever.” She brushes me off. “Wanna send a picture of us sleeping together to Kayne and Jett?”
I grin. “Yes.”
London grabs her phone off the nightstand and shimmies up next to me.
“Okay, close your eyes.” She positions the lens above us, rests her head on mine and then clicks away.
“Perfect.” She picks out the best picture and then hits send with the caption:
London: Bedtime is no fun without you.
Her phone dings a few seconds later.
Jett: We’ll bring the fun tomorrow night. Behave.
London: Behave? Now there’s definitely no fun in that.
Jett: Send me a pic of your tits.
