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Olivia bites into her smile before turning back around, her colorful sundress flaring out.
I stay in the foyer for a minute, still partially dazed by the fact I’m even standing here in the first place.
It’s bright, all clean lines and modern shapes. There are large black frames on one side, each with a different photo of Lyn and Olivia.
There’s a baby picture of Lyn, one of her walking, missing a tooth, her first day of school. One of her and Olivia when they had something glittery all over their faces, and another of them in the pool.
It isn’t until the ache spans across my jaw that I realize how hard I’m smiling at the photos, a heartwarming fullness expanding in my chest.
I know Olivia and I have only just started, and it will be a while until her walls are down enough to let me in completely, but I make it a personal goal of mine to see myself in one of these pictures one day.
Whether it’s carving some Halloween pumpkins with Lyn or holding on to a pregnant Olivia, I’m going to make it into one of these frames.
“Coming?” Olivia’s voice calls from somewhere deeper into the house.
“Without you? I don—”
“There’s that twenty-five-year-old mouth. I was getting worried you were too serious.”
I laugh to myself, quieting my steps as I walk through the hall. It opens to a kitchen on the left with a bright living area attached. I don’t get to focus on the other side because Olivia has her back to me, and it’s too good of an opportunity to waste.
Waiting until she cracks an egg in the mixing bowl in front of her, I sneak up and surprise grab her, wrapping both arms around her middle. One hand goes to her throat while the other slides down, dipping inside her dress and into her panties.
She yelps, jolting forward and knocking the bowl of eggs backward. “Damn, you move fast.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.” I immediately release her and back away, searching the pristine kitchen for a towel. “That was supposed to be a good ‘how do you like this for serious,’ but now I feel like an asshole.”
Olivia’s laugh draws me back to her, her shoulders shaking as she grabs a hand towel from the handle of the oven. “I live with a six-year-old, Theo. I’m used to messes. Besides, any time your hands are on me, I’m not going to complain.”
She makes quick work of wiping the egg away as if it were never there before turning around and pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I am going to change real quick, though.”
My gaze flits down to the dark spot on her dress, and despite her words, I feel even worse. That is, until she reaches down and strips the fabric from her body.
She sidesteps when I go to reach for her, laughing when I scowl after her. “Start some scrambled eggs, I’ll be right back.”
I don’t catch what she says right away, my eyes too transfixed on watching her round hips rocking back and forth as she walks to a staircase on the opposite side of the kitchen. I wonder if she’ll walk the same way if she allows me to put a baby in her belly, or if I’ll be the type to carry her everywhere. It isn’t until I hear a knock on the door that I snap out of it.
This isn’t my house, and I’ve definitely been instructed to make eggs, but the idea of opening the door to both Lyn’s toothy smile and Olivia’s shit ex is too enticing to ignore.
I reach the edge of the kitchen when another knock comes, this one heavy and more impatient. Already starting to get annoyed, I quicken my steps, not wanting Olivia to hear and come rushing down to intervene. Luckily, when the third knock hits, I’m there, opening it to a visibly pissed-off Sam.
“Theooooooooo!” Lyn nearly jumps on me, wrapping her arms around my middle and squeezing the air out.
I rub the top of her head, messing up her hair. “Hey, little beaver. How are you?”
“Good! What—”
“What are you doing here?” Sam’s voice is low, meant to be intimidating. And I’m sure to someone who hasn’t just fucked his ex six ways to Sunday, it might be. I, however, am not.
My eyes flash to his, the corner of my lips curling with a smirk. “Just working on Ms. Tran’s laptop.”
“Mommy hates her computer. Did you fix it all up, Theo?” Lyn releases me, and I nod, not bothering to participate in the staring contest I can feel her father gearing up for, and smile at her.
“Almost. Just a few more things, and I’ll be done.”
“Can you stay for breakfast, then? I’ll ask Mommy to make us waffles.”
Sam clears his throat, but I ignore him. “Will there be berries?”
