Bree
Ciao.
Chief
Yeah, I’m out, too. I need a shower, and I’m standing here kinda naked. It feels weird. Bree, tell Taco Bell the Third to wait for us. I have something I need to do in the city this morning, then we can fly home together. Plane-pooling is good for the environment.
Michelle
Wait, before you go… Bree?
Bree
Yuh?
Michelle
Am I having a girl? It’s a girl, right? She’s a girl?
Michelle
I changed my mind. I want to know.
Bree
No comment.
Michelle
TELL ME NOW, DAMMIT!
Shaking my head, I lock my phone and set it face down on the rich stone countertop, then I step into the massive shower and flip on the taps. I don’t bother waiting for the water to turn warm, because I’m sticky with sweat, and it’s not all that cool in here anyway. Add in my thirst, and Istroll under the spray, tip my head back, open my mouth, and drink like my life depends on it.
My phone continues to buzz on the counter, noisy enough to echo throughout the bathroom, but I don’t care about the board of directors crap Cordoza wants from us. I don’t give a damn about being silent partners or chit-chatting with McDonald’s employees. I don’t even care about the brand-new, six-figure tech system my building will enjoy after this week. I just care about the tepid water splashing against my face, the soaked ends of my hair tickling my back, and the reality that my husband is in the next room.
Better yet, I can go to him and not fear rejection. I can slide into bed andnotfeel like anxiety will make me puke.
“Minnnnka.”
I startle and jump, but then Archer crashes against my back and shoves me forward until I hit the tile wall. His hand claps across my mouth, then his teeth latch onto my shoulder, just painful enough to make me whimper.
“I love seeing you like this.” He reaches around with his free hand and slips thick fingers deep inside my pussy, but he doesn’t allow me even a moment to adapt. To adjust. To catch my breath. Because he follows his fingers with his cock, pinning me to the wall and riding my body with a single-track determination that leaves me powerless to do anything except submit. “Mine,” he growls in my ear, hammering forward and filling me to the brim. “For-fucking-ever.”
We don’t escape our room until mid-morning, long after the scents of breakfast fade away and the clatter of dishes stops, but considering ten in New York is still only seven in Copeland, I can’t find even a scrap of remorse for taking our time, especially as we wander down the steps, Archer’s hand wrapped around mine, and a smug grin teasing his lips that way I love so much.
When he’s happy,I’mhappy.
“You ready to go home and pretend this entire half of the country doesn’t exist?” He swings his arm over my shoulders, our fingers still linked, so my arm crosses my chest. “Or we could go to Jamaica.” He buries his lips in my hair. “Pretending these people don’t exist is non-negotiable, though. I’m sick of them.”
Cato skids across the shiny tile floor at the bottom of the stairs, no shirt covering his muscular chest, basketball shorts that go all the way to his knees, and a pair of white tube socks to make sliding that much easier. But most surprising of all is the chubby baby curled against his biceps. “I heard what you said about forgetting these fuckers exist, and since I live in Copeland too, I know you’re talking aboutthemand not me. But ZoZo should be an exception to the rule.” His handsome expression turns goofy, his lips puckered forward as he babbles and tickles Zora’s triple chins. “She’s so puuuuurty and fat. She’s Malone and Cannon, andI’mMalone and Cannon, which basically makes us double related, so she’s extra special and super cute.”
“We’re not stealing Lix’s baby.” Archer brings me to the bottom of the stairs, then around the youngest Malone brother and continues along the hall. “And what about Mia, huh? I thought she was your favorite girl?”
“Uncle Cato has two arms, ZoZo. And he’s strong enough to carry both of his girls.” He makes baby sounds in the back of his throat and follows us toward the kitchen. “Uncle Cato already misses his Moo, so he’s excited to fly home and see her. He has a gift for her, too! But he wishes he could bring you with him.”
“Is there a reason we talk in the third person to babies?” I tilt my head to the side and study Archer’s strong, stubbled jaw, but then he brings us into the kitchen, and my thoughts on the basic use of the English language flitter away under the pressure of half a dozen warm stares. Gulping, I stop on Aubree’s playful grin, her round butt perched confidently on Tim’s lap.
Taco Bell the Third.
