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“I’m about to eat my hand,” Aaron declares. “Can we get pizza?”
“Yes, pizza!” Spencer jumps to his feet.
I slip my hand into Violet’s, folding our fingers together.
“Pizza sounds perfect.”
* * *
Later that night, after we drop Violet at home and the boys have showered and are in their pajamas and Rosie’s been fed and let out for the last time—the four of us sit in the living room watching a rerun of The Office before bed.
Spencer is squeezed in next to me on the recliner, Brayden’s lying on one end of the couch, and Aaron’s sitting up, on his phone, at the other.
“Today was a good day,” Brayden says softly to no one in particular.
And I smile, because it really was. They don’t know it yet, but I bet it’s the kind of day they’ll think of when they remember their childhood—a collection of simple, small, fun moments.
“Violet’s your girlfriend, right, Dad?” Spencer asks.
“Yes, buddy, Violet is my girlfriend.”
“I knew it. That’s why you look so goofy whenever she’s around.”
“Goofy?” I give him a mock frown. “What do you mean, goofy?”
“Totally goofy,” Brayden confirms. “Like how Aaron looked last year after he got his wisdom teeth pulled, but all the time.”
“Yeah, you’re right, he does look like that,” Aaron chuckles.
“But it’s okay.” Spencer pats my leg, his little face honest and innocent. “I like it when you look like that.”
When parents have a solid marriage and healthy relationship, it gives kids a sense of safety. Security. I used to worry that Stacey and I had robbed them of that. That the divorce would leave them lingering in a constant state of unease and shifting instability.
But looking at them now . . . I’m not worried about that anymore.
“So, I was thinking that Violet might stay over more often, like she did last night. It’ll save on gas . . . and I like having her around and she really likes being here with us. What do you guys think about that?”
“Sure. I like Violet,” Spencer declares.
“Me too,” Brayden offers.
“Yeah, she’s cool,” Aaron agrees.
“Okay.” I nod. “Great.”
A sweet, warm contentment spreads through my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s that calm, satiated happiness that comes when life is just going good. Good for the boys, and for me and Violet . . . good for all of us. Together.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Connor
After our day at Great Adventure and my talk with the boys, Violet starts staying over a couple nights a week. I clear out two dresser drawers; her shampoo and strawberry-scented body wash take up residence in the shower and her lavender toothbrush sits in the holder beside mine.
The boys handle the transition of having a woman around the house well—the only discernible change is that they’re now putting on shorts in the morning instead of walking around in their underwear. Violet gets along great with them—and it’s all just so . . . easy. Awesome and amazing.
The week before they’re set to go back to school, on a Wednesday, Vi and I both have the day off and Garrett gives the football team a rest day, so he and Callie come over with the kids to swim in the pool and barbecue. Violet’s in my bedroom changing into her suit, and when I walk in, she’s standing in front of the floor-length mirror turning left to right, her decadent lips curved down in a pouty frown.
“What’s wrong?”
She tugs her bathing suit down in the back, trying to cover the sweet sliver of ass cheek peeking out.
“I’m not sure about this bathing suit.”
The suit is hot—a high-cut black bikini scattered with dainty white daisies that I plan to slowly peel off her later with my teeth.
“What do you mean? You look gorgeous.”
Her skin is golden and warm as I splay my hands across her hips, pulling her back against me and rubbing against the semi I’m sporting, in case she had any doubt of just how gorgeous she looks.
Vi tilts her head toward the mirror, still concerned.
“That’s what I’m worried about. Do you think it’s inappropriate to wear around the boys?”
I will never not fucking love that. How she’s always thinking of them, always putting their well-being before anything else. It just comes natural to her, and that makes me an even luckier bastard than I already know I am.
“It’s not inappropriate, Vi—though I wouldn’t mind seeing you in something that was.”
My mind floods with tantalizing images of her languidly lying on a lounge chair wearing a brightly colored, barely-there, thong string-bikini. Or even better—at a topless beach.
“The boys know what a woman in a bathing suit looks like.”
She fidgets with the triangular top, tucking her breasts in—and my palm tingles to be where her hand is, cupping and kneading that soft, pillowy flesh.
My dick goes from semi to full-fledged hard-on in no time flat. Because it’s like my desire for Violet compounds daily, feeds off itself—every moment we’re together only makes me want her more.
