Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86126 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I was a mother, for goodness’ sake. I was as round as a bowling ball. What the heck had caused me to have a—if I was being honest with myself, really hot—sex dream about my high school crush? When I’d been young, I used to have those kinds of dreams all the time. I hadn’t been able to escape them. Back then, I’d had a pretty vague understanding of all of it, though, so the dreams had really only consisted of some kissing and heavy petting. By the time that Titus and I had started going farther together, the dreams had tapered off, and afterward…well, I’d been so heartbroken and lost that it wasn’t surprising that I’d stopped having them.
For a while after Titus and I had sex, I’d built the whole thing up in my mind, convincing myself that it had been life changing and wonderful. If that wasn’t a symptom of how immature I’d been, I wasn’t sure what was. I knew all too well what sex looked like now, which is why I was so flabbergasted that I’d had the dream in the first place. Sex with Caleb hadn’t been horrible. He’d been nice up to a point and made sure that he wasn’t hurting me or anything…but he’d had a lot more fun than I ever had. Sex was just another chore to get through, one last thing I’d had to mark off my to-do list before I went to sleep at night.
Esther and Otto clearly had a healthy sexual relationship and I’d gone to public school until I got married, so it wasn’t as if I was under any illusions about sex. People loved it. They threw caution to the wind for it, like my sister had. Like I had.
But once I’d gotten a little older, I’d realized that sex just wasn’t that vital for me. I could take it or leave it. I just figured that I just wasn’t someone who was overly sexual and I was fine with that.
Apparently, I’d been mistaken, because as I stood in the bathroom, my skin still felt like it was overly sensitive and my nipples were pebbled against my pajama shirt. Lifting a hand, I brushed my palm across one of my breasts and hissed. Even mortification hadn’t cooled my body down.
How the heck was I going to face Titus after the dream I’d had? It wasn’t as if I could stay in the bathroom all day. I couldn’t avoid him since he was currently sleeping on my sister’s couch.
“Mama,” Ariel called, knocking on the door. “I gotta go potty.”
“Give me one minute,” I called back, hurrying to do my business.
When I opened the door she was squirming.
“Sorry,” I said, getting out of her way as she raced inside.
“Nana’s up,” she said as she scrambled onto the toilet. “Don’t worry, I closed the door.”
“Great,” I muttered.
Diana was inconsolable when I opened the bedroom door.
“Ari,” she cried. “Close door!”
“She just had to go potty,” I murmured, lifting her into my arms. “She didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I awake,” she shouted angrily.
“I can see that.” I made an effort not to smile and rile her up more as I set her on the bed. “You ready to get dressed?”
Otto had texted Titus late the night before, letting us know that their baby boy had arrived. All was well with both Esther and baby and they’d be headed home sometime late in the morning. I was anxious to see my sister and make sure she was doing well myself.
A few minutes later, I had the girls and I dressed for the day and I was helping them down the stairs. Ariel handled them fine, but Diana still had to hold someone’s hand while she was navigating her way down.
“You’re awake,” Flora called cheerfully, meeting us at the bottom of the stairs. She’d already dressed herself in a purple t-shirt dress and a pair of neon green leggings with little frogs all over them. “You were sleeping forever!”
“I made breakfast,” Titus called from the kitchen.
“Ari closed door,” Diana told Flora, her voice so full of betrayal that it was hard not to laugh.
“Nana, you can’t go out without mommy,” Ariel said in exasperation, hurrying toward the smell of food.
“Mornin’ sleepyheads,” Titus greeted, turning from the stove. “Good timin’. I just finished the eggs.”
“I don’t like eggs,” Ariel replied.
“Ariel,” I hissed, embarrassed.
She froze.
“You like scrambled eggs, though, right?” Titus asked.
Ariel looked at me.
“Yeah, she likes them scrambled,” I replied for her, pointing to the table. She hurried to what she’d claimed as her spot.
I put Diana into the high chair and went over to my oldest. Leaning over I kissed the top of her head. “It’s rude to tell someone you don’t like the food that they made for you,” I told her quietly. “Especially when you haven’t even tasted it yet.”