Mom had been like this for as long as I could remember. She’d had me young, and she’d always been more like a best friend to me than my mom. My friends were jealous. I’d compared our parents and wondered how they were so different—my best friend’s mom and mine were both white women who’d grown up in well-respected church-going households. Her mom was just like those TV moms who baked and had the house spotless for their husband and two point five kids. Mine was the one who’d be sipping a margarita from her water bottle after her spin class. She was a great mom—always there for me when I needed it, and there was no string of boyfriends, alcoholism, or drug problems, but she was still the wild child, black sheep of her family. Having a shotgun wedding, then being the first to get divorced would do that.
We spoke about everything—the sex-ed conversation when I had my first boyfriend had lasted over an hour and included a demonstration on how to put a condom on.
With your mouth.
Her support of anything I did was never in doubt.
“Listen, if you are with them, I’msohappy for you. If not, get onto it, girl. Bag them and fast. Either one would be a hell of a step up from your idiot ex-husband, but both? That would be perfection.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head as mortification washed over me. It was one thing to have a cool, young mom but quite another for her to be actually encouraging me to have a threesome out loud.
“Oh,” she continued, her level of excitement ramping up. “I have to be there when you tell jerkwad that you’re dating them. I want to see his face when you crush his dreams of you joining and funding his little harem.”
“I’ve already crushed his dreams, Mom,” I deadpanned. “You know that.”
She cackled. “Even just hearing about it afterward was glorious. You need to do it again.”
“Mom, you’re ridiculous.” I bit back my laugher and looked toward the door, hoping that maybe I could have that exact conversation with Simon one day. “But seriously, Mom, Hannah is quiet for the moment, but once she gets bored of the television, it’s going to get loud, and Brayden can’t have that.”
“Should I pick her up? I’ll pick her up—”
“Mom—”
“Stay where you are and I’ll swing by. What’s—”
“Mom!” She abruptly stopped speaking. “I’ll come to you. Brayden’s not up for visitors, especially ones who’ll probably squeal as much as Hannah and drool all over his husband. Maybe you can meet them—”
“But—”
“Another time, Mom.”
“Okay, as long as you make it happen, Keeley. And for the love of God, invite that useless piece-of-shit ex-husband, too, so I can rub those gorgeous washboard abs of theirs in his rat-bastard face.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Okay, Mom. Sure, why not.”
***
I was the one who brought lunch this time, and I was so grateful to be able to repay the kindness that Brayden and Spencer had shown me when Hannah was sick. I’d swung by my favorite Columbian restaurant and picked up a family-sized Picada—different fried meats, yellow potatoes, cornmeal patties, green plantains, chopped tomatoes, all of it garnished with limes—a chicken-and-rice dish, and a garlic shrimp platter. I laid it out on the table and called out, “It’s ready,” to my guys.
They’d migrated to the floor in the living room, and Spencer was helping Brayden stretch and loosen the tight muscles around his neck and back when I’d arrived a few minutes ago.
Spencer helped Brayden up, and they made their way over to me, hand in hand. Brayden wrapped his arms around my waist, and I cupped his face, looking him over. The dark circles under his eyes were still there—his headache was hanging around—but he had a bit more color in his cheeks, and his eyes were brighter. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now you’re back.” He leaned down and kissed me slow and sweet.
Our tongues touched, each teasing brush a reminder of why I was here. I likedthem. I wanted this. No matter how many times I’d told myself I shouldn’t want them, I did. I couldn’t deny it anymore. I needed to have a conversation with the HR manager because this was no longer a casual hookup.
“Your mum was okay taking Hannah?” Spencer asked when we finally broke the kiss. He pronounced mom the same way Carina did. Their hometowns were within an hour’s drive from each other, and Joey, Beckett, and Cleo’s “friend” had hailed from nearby too.
“She was. She’s taking her overnight. I have until noon tomorrow with you.” I huffed out a self-conscious laugh, and my cheeks flamed. That had been a mortifying conversation with my mother.
Brayden slid into the closest chair and sighed, then tugged me closer so he could rest his head on my belly. “Y’all, that’s great,” he mumbled, then groaned. “Fuck, this headache.”
I ran my hand over his hair, gently petting him and trying to soothe his pain.
Spencer dished up a plate for Brayden, and I fed him a forkful of the chicken and rice.
“That’s good.”
