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“You’d be okay with us living with the guys?” I ask curiously. The kids have never lived with anyone but their father and me, and unfortunately, their dad passing when they were young means they don’t remember a lot of it.
“Yeah,” Miles says. “You smile and laugh a lot, so I told them it’s okay to be with you.” My heart squeezes in my chest, remembering the conversation I overheard him having with the guys the night of his birthday.
“Me too!” Evie adds.
“Hey, kids,” Beatrice says. “We should get going.”
“I’m ready,” Miles says, grabbing his backpack and hitching it over his shoulder.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“We’re spending the night with Grammy,” Evie says matter-of-factly.
“You’re…” And then it hits me. The guys must’ve planned this and told the kids about it.
“Have a good night,” Beatrice says, giving me a kiss on my cheek. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Once they’ve left, I finish closing the shop and head upstairs to see what the guys have left for me. On the center of my bed is a big black box with a red bow. Inside, I find a blue maxi dress. With a V-neck and slits running up the sides, it’s the perfect combination of sexy and classy. It’s paired with gorgeous black heels, and underneath I find a sexy bra and panty set.
I take my time getting ready, straightening my hair and applying my makeup. Since I haven’t had time to get my nails done lately, I paint them myself, reading for a little bit while they dry. Once I’m dressed, I stand in front of the full-length mirror and smile. I look like a princess. A beautiful princess who is happy.
My gaze goes to the picture on my bedside table. I pick it up, looking at Pete and me. It was taken at our wedding. We were both smiling hard, excited for what the future would hold. Neither of us having any idea that our happily ever after would be so short-lived. All I wanted was to love and be loved. To create a family that I never really had. Sure, I had my nana, but it wasn’t the same—I wanted a husband to hold me and kiss me, to be my partner in all things. I wanted a father for my children, someone to wake up and go to bed with. To cry and laugh with.
And for a short time, I had that… until I didn’t.
I stare at the picture in my hand and think back to the day at Fields—seeing the photos and drawings Brody and Hayden had hanging up, showing how much the kids and I mean to them.
Taking the photo with me, I walk through the apartment, realizing that not a single photo has been taken after Pete passed. I’ve been so wrapped up in mourning that it’s like I forgot to celebrate the people who are still here.
I make the decision right here and now that when we move, I’m going to put up newer pictures of the kids and add in pictures of Hayden and Brody. They’re in our life, and if I have it my way, they’ll stay in our life for however long the fates will allow.
There’s a knock on my door, and I set the frame down so I can answer it. On the other side, I find Brody and Hayden standing in sharp tuxes, their faces clean shaven. Both men are holding a bouquet.
“You look stunning,” Brody says, kissing my cheek and stepping inside.
“Perfect,” Hayden adds, following.
Since the flowers both have vases, I thank them and set them on the center of the table, then grab my clutch that holds my ID, phone, and money.
“I don’t know what the occasion is,” I tell them, “but I must admit as much as I love you in a suit, these tuxes make me want to rip them off and have my way with you.” I wink playfully, and they both smile wide, making my heart melt.
“It’s been four months since you agreed to go out on a date with each of us,” Brody says, taking my hand in his and kissing the top. “We’re taking you out to dinner to celebrate.”
When we get downstairs, I find a sleek black limo waiting at the curb for us. Hayden opens the door for me, and I tell Brody to slide in first, wanting to sit between the two of them.
The ride to dinner is spent with the guys feeling me up and kissing me, telling me how beautiful I look and how much I mean to them. If I were dating one of them, I would feel cherished and loved, but dating them both is almost too much. Sometimes, when they’re doting on me, I wonder if I’m enough for them. If they’re missing out because there’s only one of me to two of them, but then I shut down my insecurities because if I wasn’t enough, they wouldn’t be here, showering me with love and attention. They’re wealthy, good looking, sweet, and selfless. They could have their pick of women—but they want me: the curvy, single mom, widow. And they love me just the way I am.
