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Stausey straightens out Amir’s tie, and I turn my attention back to my stepbrother sitting next to me. “What are you two going to do?”
Hardin sighs, and I tighten my grip on my bride’s hand. My mom laughs, and Hardin brings his fingers to his mouth. Tugging on his lips, he says, “Get married.”
“Really? Does she know that?” I ask, raising my brow.
I’m positive that Tessa doesn’t know much about this plan. I heard her practicing what to say to him in the bathroom last night before bed. I feel bad because she has no privacy now that the three of us live together, but the two women seem to love the arrangement. I had asked my wife—I still can’t get over how that sounds—if she wanted me to ask Tessa to move out since we were getting married soon, but she told me over and over that she loves having Tessa around.
I sort of suspect that both of us just know that she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.
“Yep. Why not? You two did it, and you haven’t even known each other as long as I’ve known Tess.”
He has a point there. “Yes. But you two aren’t even dating. I think you’re skipping a step, perhaps.”
Hardin grins at me—his plotting grin takes over his whole face. “The order of the steps isn’t important. Either way, we end up the same place.”
He lifts his glass and I raise mine.
A few more summers and winters later . . .
“Mommy!” Addy’s voice is always high-pitched when she wants something.
My wife strides into the room with her hands full. Her face is flushed, she has the phone to her ear, and I feel sorry for whoever is on the end of that call. But her voice changes from irritated to soothing when she talks to her mini-me. “What, baby?”
My little monster crosses her arms over her chest. “Daddy said I can’t have any more cake.”
Nora looks at me, unable to keep a straight face. “How much did he let you eat? You know we have dinner with your aunt and uncle in two hours, and you still have homework to do.”
“Well”—Addy’s pouty little lips turn up—“you shouldn’t make so much if I can’t eat it.”
I burst into laughter and try to cover my mouth when my wife glares at me.
Then the little devil tattles on me. “Dad said so, too.”
“I did not!” I lie.
Both girls ignore me.
“Addy, no more cake.” My wife’s tone leaves no room for negotiation. “Go brush your teeth and finish your homework.”
Addy saunters off and disappears down the hallway, her long, wavy brown hair swishing back and forth.
When I look back to my wife, her hands are empty and she’s reaching for me. I pull her into my lap and she straddles my waist.
“Stop feeding her sugar before every meal.” She kisses my lips.
“Stop making so many cakes if we can’t eat them.” I shrug, and Nora playfully slaps at my chest. Her hair is so long that it brushes against my legs when she shakes her head.
Her mouth presses to mine and she wraps her arms around the back of my neck. “I missed you today.” She tells me this every day during the school year.
“Someone has to teach our heathens,” I say against her mouth. “I missed you, baby.”
She takes my face between her open hands. “I’m filming again tomorrow. They just told me they need another take.”
I sigh, trying not to throw a tantrum. She’s been working so much lately, and I feel like I barely
