sure, be with someone who loves you without chains. Don’t let them lock you up and hold you hostage. Unless you’re into that, then, have at it, girlfriend. But if you’re not, and you feel suffocated by what they think you should be like, don’t. Love is freedom, and you choose who you give it to.
I give my love to this guy who we now call daddy. Wink wink.
Seated on the couch with both kids on his lap, Cason's eyes find mine. “That’s a yes, right?”
I want to burst with laughter or tears. I’m not sure which one. So I lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Only if you add one to the roster tonight,” I tease, wondering if he’s going to catch onto the meaning.
A ghost of a smile passes on his lips. “Bedtime, kids.”
The End
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HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK AT THE FIRST CHAPTER
(Don’t judge me. This could be you in ten years)
DO YOU SEE that half-naked guy sitting on the floor of his pantry eating Cheerios from the box? I know, hot right? Thank you. Thirty has treated me pretty well.
The bigger question to most of you might be why I’m on the floor in the pantry, half-naked, and eating Cheerios from the box, huh?
I’ll explain and maybe it’ll make more sense. Let’s go back about five minutes.
Okay, now, do you notice those two people on the floor? Yeah, they’re having sex. Trying to is more like it. Sex on a tile floor with limited space isn’t exactly easy. The movies lie.
“Jesus, Noah. That hurts.”
With a grunt, I look behind me at our tangled legs. “Then move your leg.”
“I can’t.” Kelly attempts to free her foot only to have it get stuck further. “It’s stuck in a basket.”
I kick the basket aside only to find there are five more beside it. It’s like one of those roadside farmer’s markets in here. “Why are there so many baskets in here?”
“Because it’s more organized that way. Our house is a constant mess. It’d be nice to keep one area clean.”
Now, this could be a snide remark against me. Probably is because I know I contribute to the mess sometimes, but I don’t want to think about that. Groaning, I attempt to change my position but have you ever had sex in a pantry closet with a box of Cheerios in front of you? I thought yellow was supposed to be calming? Or distracting? Whatever.
“Ow, you’re pulling my hair!”
I slap my hand over my wife’s mouth. “Stop talking. I can’t concentrate.” I know, I know. I shouldn’t have been so rough, but hey, at least with my hand over her mouth I’m not pulling her hair anymore.
She’s not pleased with me though and I’m given a scowl I can feel underneath my palm. I’m very familiar with this look. It’s similar to the one I got last night when I was brushing my teeth and she stuck her head in the sink for God knows what reason, and I spat toothpaste in her hair.
You might be wondering at this point why we’re on the floor in the pantry. Or, if you’re really focused on the details and noticed the box of Cheerios on the floor, you’re curious why that is. Well, we have kids who don’t put shit back where it belongs.
Why we’re on the floor in the pantry… far more interesting concept there, and circles back around to those messy little hoodlums we made who don’t put anything back. You see, when you’ve been married for ten years, looking at the possibility of divorce, you find it hard to find the spark again. That means taking the opportunities you’re given. If that means fucking on the floor in the pantry because seeing your wife wearing ridiculously expensive Lululemon tights I told her not to buy (a story for another day) while doing dishes got you hard, and you’re actually able to talk her into doing it in the pantry, then you take the crumbs you’re given, literally.
There, you’re all caught up. I know you’re probably wondering about the divorce part, but that’s a story for another day, for now, back to the sex.
It’s looking like we might actually finish before the kids get up and I have to leave for