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“Inside voice, Brielle,” Payton chastises with her own grin, feeding Noah something mushy and smelly from a jar.
“Okay, pretty girl, are you ready?” I ask my niece, pulling her long hair back and running my hands through it.
“Yes,” she whispers with excitement.
“This part is uncomfortable for a few minutes, so I’ll hurry,” I tell her as I help her bend forward, pulling all of her hair so that it’s hanging over her face. Then, I start to braid a reverse French braid, starting at the nape of her neck. I work quickly to pull all of her hair into the braid before securing it with a clear rubber band.
When all of her hair is piled on top of her head, I have her sit up. Her face is red from being bent over, but the smile is still there. This girl loves to come to the salon and have her hair messed with. Each time I cut and color her mom’s hair, Brielle comes along, playing with the combs and brushes, and sometimes even talking her parents into a strip or two of color.
Grabbing the curling iron, I start to add the curls – lots of them, as per her request – and secure them to her head with a bobby pin. It doesn’t take long, and the result is freaking adorable, if I do say so myself. When the curls are all in place, I grab the can of hairspray. “Cover your eyes.”
And then I spray her entire head down.
“Ready?” I ask, grabbing the handheld mirror and spinning the chair around.
I hold the mirror so she can see the back of her head in the reflection, and the result is a squeal. “I love it!”
“I think it looks amazing,” Meghan gushes as she comes over to stand beside her flower girl.
“Thanks, Aunt Meggy. Mom, do you like it?”
“Oh, that looks phenomenal,” Payton adds, a wide smile on her face.
“Can I put on my dress now?” the little girl begs.
“Your dress is at Aunt AJ’s house with the rest of them. We’ll head over soon and start to get ready,” Payton assures her. “Why don’t you go have Ella paint your nails,” she adds, indicating that it’s Bri’s turn at the manicure table.
“Yay!” she exclaims as she hops down from my chair before I even have a chance to lower it.
“I think she’s excited,” Meghan says with a chuckle.
“You think? She’s talked of nothing else for weeks. Months, really,” Payton says before turning her attention back to Noah.
“You’re next,” I tell the bride-to-be.
Meghan’s eyes light up and she slips onto the chair. Before I can pump her up and grab my cape, my cell phone chimes on my workstation. I glance down to see my husband’s name and a photo of him with our daughter Stella light up the screen. “Give me one sec, okay, Meg? I want to make sure everything is all right,” I say as I grab my phone and walk toward the back of the shop. I have to step over kids and dodge rolling trucks, but I finally get to the back break room, where it’s relatively quiet.
“Hi,” I answer in way of greeting.
“Hey, Firecracker, so I was thinking,” he starts, the deep purr of his voice instantly warming all of my lady parts.
“About?” I ask, suddenly all breathy.
“We should have another baby.”
I blink once, twice, as silence fills the line. I pull my phone away from my head and glance down at the device, wondering if I’m dreaming this entire thing. Nope. There’s his name and there’s the ticking clock, marking how long our live conversation has lasted so far. “Are you on drugs?”
“Only high on you, baby,” he practically growls. Before I can respond, he continues. “I was just thinking about how many times you came this morning – you know, twice in bed and once in the shower – and it got me thinking, my wife is a fucking fox anytime, but when she’s pregnant? Well, I can’t keep my hands off her.”
And he keeps talking…
“Plus, when she’s pregnant, she pretty much wants my cock twenty-four seven, and let’s face it, I’m a huge fan of that. And let’s not forget that you’re the best mama in the world, and well, I want another baby with you.”
My heart is pounding and my breathing shallow. We’ve talked about this before – and by we’ve talked about it, he has talked about it. I’ve ignored him. Hell, he was practically talking baby number four the moment I delivered baby number three.
“You’re crazy. We’re already outnumbered,” I remind him.
“I won’t be satisfied until we’ve got a basketball court full,” he adds.
