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Eli’s babies.
Every teenage fantasy I had ended with babies and Elias Finchley.
Every.
Single.
One.
My nose burns, but I won’t let myself cry.
I look to the ceiling. I’m in my laundry room. In my home. Where I just got good and laid so I smile, feeling joy bubble up in me like champagne.
It’s this moment when his hands meet my body and a warm washcloth removes the evidence of us.
One day, I tell myself. One day.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” I draw out the rude apart of the syllable as I turn to face him. “It’s Brax’s birthday. Let’s take him out. He’s been holed up too long.”
“Do I get to tell him?”
“Maybe. We’ll play it by ear.”
“Sure, but, darlin’?”
“Yeah?”
“You need to get that freshly-fucked look off your face or you’re going to give it all away.” His grin is unmistakable as he tosses the cloth into the washer. “And you can put your hand on your hip all you want, but it doesn’t mean you don’t look satisfied.”
He turns to walk away but mutters loud enough for me to hear, “I put that look there.”
I’d growl, but my smile is too big to try it.
Yeah, he did.
* * *
I pushBraxton’s front door open only to stop dead, quickly rear ended by Elias who doesn’t expect me to freeze just as I cross the threshold.
“What—” Eli never finishes his sentence, because Brax makes some smart-ass comment.
“What are you doing here?” he asks as if it weren’t obvious.
He and Emberleigh, Colt’s less favorite aunt, are standing near the hall and they look… intimate. What the hell?
“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” I start, but can’t finish because I’m lost as to what in the world is happening. That woman wants to take my nephew—legally challenge his custody, that is—and he’s cozying up to her? Brax is not stupid, but this is as dumb a decision as he could make.
“We’ll just…” I turn on my heel and smack directly into Eli who hasn’t moved from my back, stepping on his feet. I mumble an apology.
“I only walk on the bottoms. I guess you can walk on the tops.” Leave it to Eli to diffuse a situation that feels like a powder keg.
“What are you doing here, Bright? Eli?” Brax asks.
“Brighton and I were talking about grabbing a beer. Thought we’d invite you and Emberleigh along.” Eli’s recovered from the situation faster than I have and takes the lead.
Thank God, because I’m still flabbergasted. This makes three times in one day I’ve been speechless. I really should mark this date for the record books.
“Thanks. Can’t tonight.” The response is not cold, but plainly stated. “Just got home. I need to check on Colt—”
