"I want some cake," Liv says, pulling on my hand.
"You have to eat first, baby." I glance at Sarah, who is laughing with Chris. "Si nos vamos ahora podrianos en secreto cojer un poquito de la guinda del pastel." (If we go now, I bet we can sneak a little icing off the back.) Her big, brown eyes grow wide and a smile lights her face. "But only if you tell me you love me first."
She begins laughing. "I love you, Daddy."
Yeah. That will never get old.
It’s funny how life works sometimes. The day I met Sarah Erickson James, I was living an existence that couldn’t even be considered a life. I was at absolute rock bottom. But I guess that’s as good a place as any for your life to begin again.
Every day is a struggle. That will never change. I still have moments when I forget to breathe, but it’s damn near impossible to focus on the darkness when your life is filled with lights as bright as Sarah and Liv James. Life is hard. That’s a fact. But looking over my shoulder at my wife, while being dragged away by the hand of a little girl I love more than anything in the world, I can’t help but feel like today might be the exception.
Easy.
12 years later…
"WHY DO I have to go?" I groan, rolling up the sleeves on the black button-down I just pulled on.
"Because I said so. Because Caleb is going. Because I’m really freaking happy and I want you and the kids to be there with me."
"Okay, okay, gorgeous. No need to get crazy and pull out dirty words like freaking." I laugh.
She levels me with a glare. "Come on, Brett. You told me you’d come with me. Slate and Erica will be there too. You know Madeline has a crush on Adam."
"Yet another reason why I should stay at home. Adam’s a nice kid, but I don’t want him anywhere near my daughter. Do you even know what thirteen-year-old boys think about?" I ask as she giggles from inside the closet.
We have been together for almost sixteen years now and that sound still silences the whole crazy world.
"He’s thirteen, Brett. Worst case is he might try to hold her hand."
"She’s eleven!" I yell, but it only makes her laugh louder.
"Hey, dad!" John calls, walking into our bedroom. "Wait! You’re wearing jeans."
"Excellent observation, son," I say sarcastically, giving him a quirked eyebrow in response.
"Can I wear jeans to this thing? Mom gave me some khaki pants, but they make me look like a dork."
I try to stifle a laugh and fail miserably. Poor kid might be eight years old, but he’s the baby. Jesse is having a hard time letting him grow up.
Jesse and I had a good bit of trouble getting pregnant. When we first got married, we decided to start trying for kids immediately. However, three years later, we were still chasing that dream. It should have been a time in our relationship that brought us closer together, but we both struggled with our desire to start a family in different ways. She did a lot of crying back in those days, and it damn near broke me when I felt so helpless.
Finally, we took a chance. We emptied the contents of our savings account and gave the miracle of In Vitro Fertilization a shot. It was hands down the best gamble I’ve ever taken. That one cycle of IVF gave us Madeline. Then, two years later, we thawed one of our frozen embryos and hit the jackpot again with John.
"No! You are wearing those pants. Don’t even try it." Jesse says, walking out of the closet.
"Sorry, bud." I tousle his shaggy, brown hair, and he walks out with a groan.
"Now, can you hurry up? I want to stop and pick up some flowers on the way."
"So what am I getting out of this?" I ask with a smile.
"Um, I won’t poison your food?" She offers me a sugary smile on her way to the mirror that makes me bark out a laugh.
"Well, I was thinking something a little more…um, stimulating." I walk up behind her and roll my hips into her ass.
"We don’t have time for that, so stop." She rejects my advance, but with one glance in the mirror, I can see her cheeks flash to pink.
"Fine. Rain check. But I want you to do something for me before we go." I turn her in my arms and lift my eyebrows suggestively.
"Sorry to break it to you, big boy, but I just did my lipstick." She pats my chest.
"No, gorgeous. I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want, and use something a little more descriptive than ‘freaking.’"
She stares at me blankly, her cheeks growing pinker by the second. "Um…"
"Wrong answer." I scoop her off her feet, causing her to scream.
"Brett, stop!" She tries to sound stern, but she begins giggling.
"Say it, gorgeous." I drop her onto the bed and quickly cover her with my body.
"I love you," she says, leaning up to catch my mouth.
"And…" I prompt before kissing her again.
"And…I want you to fuck me tonight," she whispers, knowing exactly what I wanted to hear.
"There she is," I purr. "I’ll be more than happy to oblige you when we get back."