The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,55
the saddest sack tree on the lot, because Mom usually got it for nothing, or at the very least it was a steal.
There was no pumpkin chiffon pie or loving mature couple bickering. No cheap as hell because they were secondhand, but still beautiful garlands twinkling on the hearth and doorways because we never had a hearth and sometimes we didn’t have doorways.
My head turned, and I looked out the window beyond the tree.
I could see the golden-red glow of Toby’s lights filling the night, pushing out the moonlight.
“Babe.”
I stared at that light, feeling suddenly empty.
Mom would love Johnny.
But she’d adore Toby.
Her and me, we liked the bad boys. We were attracted to the edge.
Most of all, right then, she’d be dancing with Brooks in her arms, or flirting with Charlie or wise-cracking with Dave, or clucking with Margot out of sheer female camaraderie.
And she’d be beside herself with joy that these were the people around us and these were the lives that her girls were leading.
But she’d died before my son was even on this earth.
She’d never touched him.
She’d never even seen him.
“Baby.”
My body twitched, and my gaze went to Toby who was crouched down beside me.
“Mama,” Brooklyn said, reaching to me, then thinking better of it and latching on to Toby’s neck.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mom would be happy.”
“Baby,” he whispered, lifting a hand to my jaw and gliding his thumb along my cheek.
“I’m okay,” I told him. “It happens. Usually when it’s me who’s happy. Just wish I could share it with her.”
He gave me a gentle smile.
Then he bent forward and touched his lips to my forehead.
When he pulled away, Brooks shouted, “Mama! Dodo!”
Who said toddlers didn’t cogitate?
I grinned at my son.
Toby straightened to his feet and moved away.
“Totally not finding that ‘baby’ thing funny anymore,” Deanna mumbled.
“Me either,” Izzy said.
Charlie grunted.
“Time to light the tree,” Johnny announced.
We all got up, and as I moved toward Toby and Brooks, Margot moved toward me.
She arranged some of my hair on my shoulder and stated, “I like your hair like this, Adeline. It’s very becoming.”
Margot.
The woman never missed a trick.
Mom would love her.
But I adored her.
“Thanks, Margot.”
She looked in my eyes, hers were searching. She must have found what she needed because she winked.
Then she moved to stand with Dave.
Everyone gathered.
But Toby gathered me, front to his side with his arm around my shoulders and my son on his other hip.
I slid mine around his middle, which let me include my boy in my hold.
“Ready?” Johnny, squatting by the outlet, asked.
“Ready,” everyone replied.
Johnny lit the tree.
Simple white lights.
Yet always dazzling.
Brooklyn screeched with glee, trying to clap his hands and missing.
Toby chuckled, his white smile splitting the coal of his beard, his eyes on my son.
Yes.
Totally.
Except for the day I had Brooklyn.
This was the best day ever.
Maybe it was even better than the day I had Brooklyn.
Because that day, I got Brooklyn.
But this day, both my boy and I had everything.
We Had Our Shit Tight
Addie
EVERYONE WAS GONE.
And I was standing in my bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror.
I’d unearthed another pre-Brooklyn part of my wardrobe, a little red satin nightie that barely covered my ass, had lace at the boobs that drifted in upside down triangles at the sides.
It was sah-weet.
And I was hoping it was sweet enough, it’d hide the fact that I took off my makeup and undid my hair.
Toby wanted me as he’d seen me earlier.
But I was Daphne’s daughter, and even if she had to use the oatmeal out of our kitchen, she took care of her skin and taught her girls to do the same.
If Toby fucked me silly, and I passed out, I couldn’t sleep in makeup.
No way.
But my hair looked better now. Modern-day Barbarella.
It rocked.
The kitchen was cleaned.
Brooks was down.
With the lights out downstairs, the inside of the house had that golden-red glow because Toby had set the outside lights to go off at eleven thirty and it wasn’t that late yet.
And Tobe had brought a bag and was right then in the bedroom either putting on pajamas (which would be a waste of time) or getting naked (which worked for me).
I needed to find another job.
Christmas was coming and my mom was dead and I always missed her during the holidays (or missed her more).
My son’s father was an asshole.
But life was awesome.
I was smiling when I made a move to leave the bathroom, and my eyes hit the bathroom accessories I had in there that we’d brought up from Tennessee.