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Drew grunts. “She’s right. Full disclosure, she’s almost always right, so whatever she told you to do before I got down here, you should do it.”
I hesitate, the poisonous voice in my head fainter now, but still insisting it’s too late, that I’ve dropped the ball one too many times and shouldn’t be allowed back on the field.
“Would you give up on a baby halfway through because the birth was difficult?” Tatum asks, answering the question herself, “Of course, you wouldn’t. So, think of this like a difficult labor. You and Wren will have to work to get through it, and it might get messy and hard. But in the end, you’ll have brought something miraculous into the world that will make both it, and both of you, so much better.” She grins. “And in five years when you’re still blissfully in love and run into whatever cousin decided to run her mouth at the wedding, you can flip her off and say ‘neiner niener niener, Wren still loves my wiener,’ and vengeance will be yours.”
“Weiner?” A little voice pipes up from behind them, making Tatum’s face go pale and Drew snort with laughter. “Are Barrett and Wren getting a Weiner dog, too? Oh, they’re so cute! I like Keanu Reeves, but he has scary teeth and could use a snuggly little friend.”
“Thank you, Sarah Beth,” I say, shifting the last batch of pancakes to the serving plate. “I thought so. And Weiner dogs look great in a sweater.” I flip off the hash brown burner and move the cast iron skillet to the other side of the stove. “We’ll have to keep watching the dog adoption site until we find one.”
“Thank you,” Tatum mouths.
I nod and pull in a bracing breath. “You’ll have to text me later, let me know how the Oreo pancakes are.”
“You aren’t going to eat one?” Sarah Beth asks, looking disappointed as she crawls into her booster seat at the table. “You can have one. I know how to share.” She lifts a tiny finger. “But just one because I would like to have leftovers on Tuesday, which is a day that sometimes I also get pancakes if Daddy leaves for work early and Mama is in a ‘sugar is okay but keep it between us’ mood.”
Tatum laughs and points a finger back at her. “Don’t you tell on me, girlfriend, or we’re both going to get in trouble.”
“That’s right.” Drew smacks Tatum’s bottom playfully. “Bad mama.”
“Good thing that’s the kind of mama you like,” Tatum mutters beneath her breath, exchanging a heated look with her soon-to-be husband.
And just like that, the shift is completed inside of me.
I’m pretty sure Tatum’s right about making up for what each other lack, but Drew’s just confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not alone in my obsession with my woman’s ass.
I’m an ass-loving McGuire man, dammit. It’s in our blood. Maybe that’s embarrassing to women like Celeste, Allana, and Mabel, but it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.
And the things that are wrong…
Well, Wren said last night that she was willing to talk through things, work through things with me, if I’d just come to her instead of making decisions for both of us.
Hopefully, she still feels that way this morning.
“I’ll try an Oreo pancake next time, Sarah Beth,” I say, starting toward the garage door. “I have something important I need to do first.”
Tatum beams and shoots me two thumbs-up and Drew says, “Good luck, brother. And feel free to drop in anytime. We love you.”
My lips twitch into a smile as I nod, not trusting my voice not to shake. I know what love is. In so many ways, it’s been all around me my entire life.
Now I just need to learn how to hold onto it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
WREN
I couldn’t sleep in the bed.
Not without Barrett there.
Not knowing that Barrett and I will never sleep in that bed together again.
I crashed on the sofa, hoping to get just enough rest to have the energy to pack up what little I unpacked, but the house was too full of memories. I may have only moved in yesterday, but we’ve already spent so much time here together.
This is the couch where we watched Monster House, a nominally creepy children’s movie, and Barrett teased me for still being a scaredy cat, while cradling me close and promising he’d never let the monsters get me. There’s the kitchen where we’ve already made so many meals, chatting while we cooked, the conversation never slowing even though we’ve known each other for most of our lives.
But Barrett and I never seem to run out of things to say or laughter to share or dreams or goals or horniness.
We were really good at horniness.
We had sex in every room in this house except the garage and I was hoping to take care of that during the spring cleaning we had planned for next weekend. I had several graphic sex scenarios laid out, all involving him and that riding lawn mower.
