We remain there, neither of us wanting to burst this bubble. I roll back onto the bed, positioning myself so I can stare at her, her green eyes radiating in the morning sun. My palm trails up the curve of her hip, gliding across her breasts until it snakes its way to her cheek. I hold her face in my hand, my thumb drawing tiny lines across her jaw line.
“Firefly?”
“Yeah?”
“You are magnificent.”
She leans up and kisses me. It’s soft. A delicate kiss. The kind of kiss I imagine you give your wife in the kitchen when you cook pancakes with your kids on a Sunday morning. As we lay there, completely entangled, a strangely familiar feeling washes over me. It’s sudden at first, building gradually inside until it hits me. My heartbeat flutters in a way it hasn’t done in years. I never thought I would allow myself to love another person, let alone allow someone to love me. But laying here, with Annabeth smiling up at me, her pink hair still a mess, her cheeks flushed with the glow one can only achieve after an orgasm, her eyes twinkling back at me… I know with one hundred percent certainty that I want to spend the rest of my life with her.
“I think I’m in trouble, Firefly.” Her brow furrows as she looks atme with an unspoken question. “I’m still starving.” Her giggle rings out through my bedroom, barely muffled by the pillow she’s hiding behind as I drag my tongue down her body for the second time this morning.
Smoke billows from the kitchen, the faint sound of laughter carrying through the hallway as Annabeth and I descend the staircase. Sweet aromas waft past me, making my stomach twist with hunger.
“Colson Northlane, get your ass over here and help me would you?” A soft, feminine voice echoes.A woman? With Colt? Surely not…
“Ell, have you always been so damn bossy?”
Annabeth halts, staring at me before she whispers, “Ell? As inElla?”
I shrug, because her guess is just as good as mine, although, I find it hard to believe there’s another Ella.
“Uncle Colt, you dropped the eggs again!”
Annabeth and I enter the kitchen, and the vision before us can only be described as utter chaos. Billie’s perched on the breakfast bar, covered head to toe in flour. White powder cases her blonde curls, her overalls are completely dusted, and she’s wearing a smile on her face so big you’d think she just won the Nobel Prize. Truthfully, I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds prestigious. Ella looks much the same, only she’s standing over the oven and oddly resembles some kind ofpin-up model turned witch toiling with her cauldron. Her jeans have what appear to be cake batter all over them, her shirt has a giant tear in it, and her face has what I fuckingprayis chocolate on it. Colson – in true Colson form – looks handsomely put together aside from the collateral eggs on his boots.
“What in the ever-loving fuck is going on in here?” I ask.
“Daddy!” Billie squeals, throwing a tea-towel at me with a scowl on her face.
“Sorry, princess. But honestly, what in the heck are you three doing?”
“Ahh, well, we thought we’d make breakfast.” Ella flashes me an apologetic smile that meets her eyes as she shrugs. “Wemayhave gotten carried away.”
“May have? It looks like a powdery crime scene in here,” Annabeth exclaims, her expression a mix of concern and intrigue. No sooner do the words leave her mouth, the laughter erupts from the room. Ella, Billie, and Annabeth all keel over in fits of hysterical girl giggles. It’s infectious. I try to wrangle the women to no avail. Billie launches herself at me from the breakfast bar, wrapping herself around my back like a koala, and almost strangling me in the process.I’m getting too old for this.Colt dodges me as I run towards him – koala backpack in tow – like a bull out a gate.
I have no idea when Annabeth found a spatula, but she’s chasing me through the kitchen, slapping my ass like I’m a fucking prize thoroughbred, which Billie finds utterly hilarious. Ella’s laughing so hard she’s collapsed in a floury heap on the floor. I couldn’t tell you what happened to us in the time it took for Annabeth and me to interrupt this chaotic bake session, to us playing whatever insane gameof horseback-koala this is, but I know in my heart that I’m right where I’m meant to be. With my daughter, my brother, and my girls. I do, however, make a mental note to ask Colt why Ella is in our kitchen at 8:45 am on a Sunday, but that’s for another day.
I glance across the field to see my daughter happily dancing along the tree line next to my ute. She’s been planning today for weeks. She made Colt show her how to tie a perfect lasso so she could ‘complete her ceremony’. No matter how many times we tried to explain that a handfasting is traditionally for weddings – and between lovers – she was nothaving it.
Billie had made her rope during art class at school, weaving together her favourite colours to represent us. Annabeth’s rope is a faded purple, Billie’s is a muted cream. And mine, mine is a khaki green. She intertwined the three ropes together in a twisted braid, wrapping the ends with bronze tips, and hanging a Celtic love knot from the end pieces. It really is gorgeous.
This little ceremony alone is a perfect example of who my girl is. Bold, kind, and full of love. She told me one night, after Annabeth went home, that she wanted to do this under the bridge outside of town at sunset, and she wanted to sing us a song that she’s been working on. She wouldn’t tell me anything about it, aside from it being a celebration of us – of our family.
She explained that the handfasting was to protect us, to connectus in spirit and soul. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when my eight-year-old came to me after school and said this to me, completely unprovoked. Her blue eyes were so full of joy as she told me exactly how she planned to do the ceremony.
“Daddy, A.B., I’m ready for you.”
We both get whiplash turning to face Billie, who’s appeared out of thin-air in front of the ute. She’s beaming from ear to ear, her hands expertly hidden behind her back to conceal the braided rope.
Annabeth smiles, and I’m starting to feel as giddy as a kid with a lunch order, because she has no idea what we’re doing. I – brilliantly, I might add – have lured my woman here under incredibly false pretences. She thinks we’re having a simple family picnic. And we are… kinda.
“Daddy, A.B., please stand in your flower circles,” she begins, her voice rings out with purpose as she commences her speech.
“We are gathered here today to perform a ritual that I have prepared,” Billie says, her eyes fixed on Annabeth and me. I thought we might eat first, but just like her mother, Billie’s straight into it. I suppress a laugh, but I can’t fight the proud smile that’s sweeping across my lips.
“Daddy, please hold this,” she continues, handing me one end of the rope.
“A.B.,” she adds, passing the other end to Annabeth. I stifle a laugh at Billie’s use of Colt’s nickname for Annabeth.
