Page 78

I approached one step at a time, but halted when Jess laid a hand on my shoulder. “Mesmer wants to see your reaction.”

I flinched as our little one took that exact moment to kick me in the bladder and I huffed, moseying off to take a piss while Jess shoved her head through some forsaken portal leading to this new mystery house that I wasn’t even sure I’d like. I dreaded appearing ungrateful—but he did make me have to upgrade my wardrobe to include a lot more spandex and end my social forays early.

When I emerged, drying my hands on my pants legs because someone had taken the towel already, Jess grabbed my wrist and drew me toward the portal, hand over my eyes as we strode through, one step at a time.

“Hurry up before I have to pee again.” I huffed as a cold sensation like diving into an ice bath melted over me in a rush and gasp. “Fuck!”

I shivered as the air around me rippled and normalized and opened my eyes to a relatively empty home. A wide staircase swept to an open upstairs—the construction old, but modernized. Rows of room doors slid down beyond my sight as I glanced right through an expansive living area into a rather cozy library, French doors open to reveal the mostly-empty shelves. One shelf, floor to ceiling, had been stocked with manga and manhwa—of what variety I could guess. Bitty was making herself at home, I guessed.

To the left, a dining room opened, leading into an open space kitchen and I forced myself to smile as I set off that way, peering around while Mesmer sulked in a corner, standing out with all the beige and cream around me.

A wood chair rail circled the room, pegs spaced to hold the chairs off the floor during cleaning and other activities. Below that, the wainscotting had even been pegged rather than more trim. From a few slats, a few items not of my own hung—a cinnamon broom, some weird looking doll with a face stitched on burlap, and wooden wall sconces that hung on appropriate racks. I assumed, for candles that I’d never dare to place on things that flammable.

As I migrated toward the kitchen, I spied empty spaces where a dishwasher and oven would go, an empty pantry with gingham wallpaper yellowing inside, as if that one space had been overlooked in all the renovations, and modernized cabinet hardware over antique cabinets, the woodwork plain but sturdy for its age.

“Whoa.” I muttered as I followed the kitchen counters around a large work table that had been placed in the center with a ladder hung horizontally from the ceiling above it coated with hooks for pots and pans.

“Why this table?” I tapped the edge as Mesmer shuffled in, trying to appear suave, but failing in his heated state. I knew a fair bit of history, and the general shape and size of the table was not that of an ordinary dining table. It was a specialized work table, a few inches taller, the legs braced and too close to the ends.

Mesmer stared at his nails for a moment and smirked. “Took me a while to track down, but it’s from his father’s estate.”

I frowned, not sure if Zeke would appreciate it. I ran my fingers over the top of it, wondering if the history behind it would taint our home. “It won’t upset him?”

Mesmer laid a pen on the table and spun it; the sleek, black and gold surface of it slowing to a halt before spinning back the other way a half turn. “Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose he’d like to have his family’s table.”

I weighed that in my mind as we crossed hand carved wood flooring into a modernized mud room with laundry facilities out onto a veranda that spanned the entire back half of the house, swooping around far past where I could see as I stepped on sturdy boards and traced my fingers over the railing to the front. The porch was empty, but I glanced up and spotted something our porch back home could never support—swing hooks. Instead of a rocking bench, we could have a real porch swing. I’d dreamt of a wicker one, painted vintage blue to match the matte white finish of the house and the vintage blue of the floorboards.

Mesmer followed me as I glanced out into an expansive yard, a copse of pecan trees lining the side of the house, the ground oily and grass sparse beneath them as the evidence of old shells littered the ground out by an enormous tree in front.

A gravel drive done in river rock circled the front yard, rose bushes cluttered in the center of it as it led straight out to the wrought-iron fence that seemed to crackle with magic I didn’t understand quite yet. “Is there a barrier?”

Mesmer nodded.

“No pool, though.” I gave him a wink.

“No, no. I thought of everything.” Mesmer gestured for me to follow him, and I did so, curious as he took me around and off the back porch.

He reached under the deck and pulled out a plastic kiddy pool. “Tada.”

“Welp. Gimme the garden hose, bitch.” I shuffled around and found an ancient hose, half dry-rotted and still attached to the tap and turned on the water as fifteen seconds of rusty, dank water spilled out before clean. There, I filled the pool as I stripped down to my underwear, much to his chagrin.

Once filled, I turned the water off and stomped over through the damp grass and flopped into the pool, legs and arms hanging over the sides of the plastic basin.

Mesmer stared at me with a slow blink. “Fuck it.”

And before I knew it, he was down to his underwear, tight briefs in a rosy shade of fuchsia that complimented his pale skin well. He nudged at my leg firmly, but not without caution for my condition as he wriggled in, head on the opposite end, letting water spill over the side of the pool.

And there we sat, staring at one another impassively, waiting for one of us to give. “How do you like your pool?” Mesmer splashed his fingers lightly before crossing his legs and sinking down, letting more of his legs spill over the edge.

“S’good.” I wasn’t budging. My belly floated above the surface of water that lapped at my hips and chest, and I barely looked up when the back door creaked open. A few seconds lapsed as Jess’s voice muffled somewhere within, calling for Bitty.

Within a minute, I closed my eyes and ignored quickened footsteps and giggling. We had an audience, and I wasn’t going to let it deter me from enjoying my fucking pool. But, idly, I wondered what sort of gratification they got from watching two grown men, one of whom was pregnant, lounge in a kiddy pool in their underwear.

When I stretched and sighed a little, making Mesmer readjust his position, Bitty giggled and whispered to Jess, who whispered back.

Sometime later, gravel crunched, and the familiar whirr of my car’s engine purred and silenced. Doors opened and closed, bags rattled, and footsteps preceded what must have been Zeke returning.

By the time the back door opened, I’d almost dozed off, but I glanced up to watch Zeke pop out, face impassive as it melted into confusion. “Dare I ask?”