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Liv continues, “But Peyton is so much more than your wife. We’ve also fallen in love with her. You gave us another sister and we just want you both to know how much we love you.”
Ah . . . fuck, here come the waterworks. Thankfully Tori rescues me when she adds, “And by the way, if you screw it up, we get to keep her.”
Laughter resumes and I’m able to smile, knowing I won’t screw it up.
I finally reached a place where I understand that everyone feels broken at some point in their life. All the cracks and fine lines that remain molded me into a man capable of loving Peyton. Without my flaws there would be no reminder of the man that doesn’t deserve her, and I need him to remember why I do.
One Year Later . . .
Deeply satisfied eyes stare up at me as I descend from the sky. No longer able to control my shaking arms, I deflate next to Peyton. Married sex never gets old. It only gets better, and I can’t wait to experience what baby-making sex feels like. For some reason now feels like the right time to broach the subject.
“Peyton.”
“Hmmm . . .”
“When should we make Javier a brother?” She rolls to her side to face me. My spirit deflates at her expression as I consider we’ve never talked about having children. It doesn’t look as though Peyton’s too eager to get started. “You don’t want any more kids?”
“No . . . I mean . . . yes.”
“But?”
She sighs. “Javier’s nine.”
“You do realize he has no role in the baby-making process, right?”
“Yes . . . boob, I do.” I laugh. I’m always referred to as a boob when I use humor inappropriately, which basically amounts to me being called boob frequently. “But he does have a role in our family. It could take me awhile to get pregnant and then nine months before a baby comes. He could be ten or eleven . . . twelve even.”
Clearly I am a boob because I have no idea what the age difference has to do with anything. “Is there a time limit on becoming a brother?”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t call me boob, so I’m not totally off base. “No, but I worry about the age difference. What do you remember most about your siblings growing up?”
“Playing games, going to school together, especially Liv. And Brady taking us to senior parties when we were underclassmen. We were friends as much as we were siblings.”
“Exactly. If let’s say, Javier is twelve when we have a baby, then they won’t exactly be hanging out together.”
I’m sure she has a point and she’s dropping these little nuggets in hopes I’ll figure it out, but I still feel clueless. “So?”
“So, they’ll both still feel like only children and I don’t want Javier to think he has to take care of his little sister or brother when he’s approaching his formative years.”
“Formative years? Have you been talking to your mom?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
If she’s spoken with her mother, then she’s considered having more children, which is a start. However I’m still confused. “Okay, so we have two children, say a year apart and we hire a nanny so Javier doesn’t feel like a caregiver. Now can we get down to baby making?”
She rolls her eyes again, and I know I’m behaving impossibly, but I just don’t see the issue as clearly as she does. “You know if you want to have sex, there are less complicated avenues which generally allow the experience to be more enjoyable.”
“No way. I hear couples trying to conceive fuck like rabbits.”
I nibble on her ear, causing her to giggle but she still pushes me away “Boob . . . Maybe, but quantity isn’t quality. A friend back home told me baby-making sex usually re
volves around an ovulation schedule and loses all its fun because it’s all about fertilizing an egg and not satisfying her.”
“Oh, is that what you’re worried about, Mrs. Hunter? I promise to make you come each and every time we attempt to fertilize an egg.”
She just laughs as I lower my head and kiss the spot behind her ear that makes her squirm.
“I have a better idea. You make me come each and every time we have sex. And we go another route to make Javier a brother.”
