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“Thought you were being naïve. He was so damn touchy feely. Fuck, El, I spent the entire week hating him for putting his hands on you so freely.”
She giggled then, equal parts mischief and smug victory. “And you did all of that to yourself, big guy. Could’ve spent one evening with us and put all that angst to bed.”
“Well, fuck me,” I groaned, leaning back into the mattress as she laughed skyward.
“Again? Christ, you’re relentless.”
“Har-har.”
“What do they say about making assumptions, Professor?”
Shaking my head, I bent down and nipped at her neck. “Took two years off my life and you were setting Max up.”
“Yep.”
“I feel like a dumbass.”
“That’s a warranted emotion.”
“You’re evil,” I teased, tickling her side and grinning as she squeaked and tried to squirm away.
Still giggling, she nipped back, “Remind me how evil I am when I’m swallowing your cock later.”
Elora
Never in my life had I been banged into a sex aversion, but the decadent ache between my legs was a promise for absolute devastation if we didn’t figure out how to keep our hands to ourselves this week.
Thanksgiving was freakishly quiet. As a matter of fact, I didn’t think I’d ever seen a family gathering so small. Was this what normal families felt like during the holidays? No chaotic chatter or a dozen voices vying to hold the conversation at the same time? No competing for the last roll or theatrical game of charades after dinner? It was… disconcerting, to say the least. I was missing the chaos of a full house, while simultaneously soaking up the calmer, quiet tempo of an intimate group. Noel prepped half the dinner herself, and James popped over to Broderick’s around ten am to put the tiny turkey in the oven. The guys sat down to watch football, Axel joining in around noon. We had a video chat with Broderick’s parents, Rob and Marley, before dropping food off to his grandfather. Our cousins, Jake and Charlie, and Charlie’s kids, showed up not long after. We’d all laughed and played cards while the games rolled across the television, eaten and served up pie and ice cream in an oddly comforting routine. Is this what it would feel like if Brod and I decided this was our new normal? The two of us entertaining the family, making the kids giggle with traces of pumpkin on happy cheeks?
I’d always loved watching Brod with kids around the island, but somehow, seeing him with little Sterling hit so much harder now. Harder because, God, I wanted that. At the base of all of this yearning and pining sat a deeply rooted need to have the entire picture. I just wasn’t sure what that looked like.
“Wait, wait, show me again!” Sterling demanded, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Broderick laughed. At seven years old, there was absolutely nothing Charlie’s youngest loved as much as sleight of hand magic tricks. My multi-talented lover had been entertaining both kids for the better half of dessert.
Our not-so-little Junebug turned eleven this fall and was attempting to appear indifferent as she peered over the rim of her novel, watching with enough focus that I assumed she was trying to catch the science behind the magic.
“Pay attention, now,” Broderick said, holding up a too-shiny quarter. I wondered if he got it fresh from the bank for just this purpose. He held it up to the left, and bright Rhodes’ blues followed the motion. The kids both shared Charlie’s warm olive complexion but got their late mama’s dark jet-black hair. “Don’t lose track,” Broderick encouraged, shifting the coin from one hand to the other. That tiny dimple popped up in Sterling’s cheek as he followed the motion. Meanwhile, June’s eyes narrowed, like she could focus her way past the illusion as Broderick moved it again. “If you blink, you’re bound to miss it,” he added and with a flick of his wrist, the coin vanished.
“How do you do that!?” Sterling demanded, both his volume and enthusiasm at their max.
“It’s just a trick,” June said dismissively, lifting her chin and dropping her eyes to her book all in one movement. I smirked as Broderick did the same thing, but he kept his eyes on the still mesmerized Sterling.
“I’ll teach you some day, but you have to follow the magician’s code.”
“The magician’s code?” Sterling demanded, grabbing Broderick’s hand and peeling it open, only to scowl at his empty palm.
“Everyone knows the magician’s code,” Broderick said sagely. Sterling’s silver eyes snapped to me, looking for confirmation.
“It’s true,” I said, nodding. “Everyone knows the magician’s code.”
“What is it?” he asked eagerly, peeling open Broderick’s button up sleeve as he searched for the quarter. Grinning, Broderick held up one finger with a flourish.
“One—you can tell no one how you did it unless they’ve sworn the oath. Two—” a second digit joined the first. “You can never perform the trick without practicing it until you’ve mastered it.” Another finger went up. “Third, you have to escape the Monster of Mayhem!”
Before Sterling could ask about said monster, Broderick’s eyes went wide, his hands snapped up like T-Rex claws, and he growled, lunging for Sterling, who yelped and bolted away. I realized I was grinning like an idiot when I caught June’s smile directed at her pages. Eleven going on thirty, evidently. Something cold nudged my elbow, and I turned to find a beaming Noel offering me a glass of red.
“Something about a good man who’s good with kids,” she said, shaking her head adoringly as she handed over the wine. “Just makes my ovaries explode, you know?”
“He’ll be a wonderful dad someday, won’t he?”
