Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“Well, you never know.” I’d better run this by my lovely wife before they pin me down to a timeline.
“It’s easy, you know,” Gus puts in.
“What is?”
“Making babies,” he says, holding out his hands reasonably.
“It just takes a mum and a dad and—”
“I’m really not sure we should be talking about this.”
“—and love,” he finishes, regardless.
“Love.” I smile, relieved. “Love does make a difference.”
“And a penis,” Gus adds. The words of a sage. “You need one of those.”
“Eww!” Daisy says, turning to her cousin in disgust. “Really?”
What the fuck. “I think this conversation has gone on long enough.”
“And something else, too. But I’m not ’posed to talk about it until I’m older.”
“Sounds good. You keep that to yourself.”
“But, you now,” he says regardless, “I think I saw my mummy sucking a baby out from daddy’s—”
“Annnnd, we’re done!” I say, slinging my arm around his waist. “Say bye to Daisy,” I mutter, turning him on his head.
“Bye!” he says with an upsidedown giggle .
I carry him across the lawn, depositing him in his father’s arms.
“If that kid doesn’t need therapy…” I give my head a quick shake. “I think I will.”
I leave the bemused parents to deal with it.
Life is… fucking awesome. Kids are… kind of awesome, too. Entertaining, at any rate. I look forward to the day we grow our own little branch of this family. A son, a daughter. I don’t care which. But I’ll have locks put on every door so we’re not faced with this shit.
“Lavender said to give you this.” Primrose appears by my side, her smile as pretty as her name as she passes a whisky tumbler my way. “She said to tell you that she agrees. Polly’s signature cocktail tastes like nats piss.”
“I wouldn’t go as far as that,” I say with a chuckle.
Primrose glances around the garden, the guests in their summer finery, kids haring around the lawn, others sitting under domed canvas tents, or idling on macrame fairy swings that hang from sturdy tree boughs.
“Having a good time?” I ask as I bring the glass to my lipss and savor the sweet burn.
She nods. “I’ve had too much champagne but, bloody hell, Raif. You brought out the good stuff.”
“Of course I did. Nothing’s too good for my people.”
“At five hundred quid a bottle—I googled it—the stuff better handle my hangover for me.”
I laugh, throwing back my head.
“She loves it, by the way.”
I bring my gaze level again.
“Lavender. She loves the surprise. It made her cry, but I didn’t tell you that.”
“Got it.” I swallow over a lump in my throat. She already hid her happy tears in my shirt.
“I can’t believe you invited that defecting scrotal component.” Primrose glowers as she spots Tod and his new employer, Tuti. The woman is older, sophisticated, and scary, apparently. Lavender is convinced they have a little D/s thing going on.
“Water under the bridge.” I give a shrug. He was never a threat to me. Just a little snot that pissed me off.
Primrose harrumphs. Then, “Shit, I nearly forgot. Your darling wife also asked me to give you this,” she says, handing me a small, hand wrapped parcel. Brown paper and pink string.
“A gift?”
She nods. “She says not to open it until you’re by yourself. Brin said it must be a cock ring.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide above it.
“Did he?” I imagine he also made some jibe about my age. But it’s all good. Brin and I, we tolerate each other. Just about. But I did smile when I heard he almost cried when he learned Lavender reversed her McLaren into a wall.
“Not that he’d know,” Prim says, all pink cheeked. “I meant to say, Lavender went upstairs to get changed.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh.” Prim’s oh has a different tone. “That’s pretty much what I said when she asked me to let you know.” She gives an exaggerated wink.
“You know you’re my favorite sister-in-law,” I say, pressing my hand to her shoulder with a squeeze. “Keep an eye on Daisy for me?”
I take the long way around the garden, avoiding small talk and smaller children. In through the service entrance, I dodge the caterers and use the back stairs.
The door to our bedroom opens almost silently.
“What took you?”
Sunlight frames my wife’s form where she’s draped over the velvet bench at the bottom of our bed.
“Well, looks at you,” I murmur, remembering I have a voice as I pick my tongue up from the floor
“No, look at you, all spiffy.”
“Spiffy.”
“That’s old fashioned for as sexy as fuck.”
“You’re spiffy, too.”
“I had this thought,” she purrs, swinging her feet around, her pink painted toes touching the floor.
“Uh-huh?” I close the space between us, not sure why we’re not kissing already.
“That you might like to re-enact our wedding day.”
“Which part?”
“Any… all of it. But maybe just a taster for now. Timing,” she adds with a shrug. Her eyes fall to the parcel in my hand. “You haven’t opened your gift.”