My kids are my world. Period. Although I had to sacrifice my dreams when I got pregnant at seventeen, I still wouldn’t change a thing. West, Stella, and Ridge are the absolute best things to have happened to me, and nothing will ever change that. However, that doesn’t mean I want my daughter to follow the same path. I want her to be carefree for as long as possible.
Life is long. There is plenty of time for responsibilities.
“Your brother is only looking out for you, and I’d rather you not make me a grandma at thirty-five.”
“Oh my God. You’d swear I was fucking the whole football team!” Stella throws her hands in the air.
“What the what?” Curtis barks, stepping into the kitchen at the worst possible moment.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Vander stiffening and straightening up. He folds his arms over his chest, and his jaw pulls tight as he stares at my husband with a dark look. Prickles of apprehension dance over my skin, and I rub at the pressure sitting on my chest. I only relax when Vander looks away from Curtis and lowers his eyes to the floor.
Curtis fixes our daughter with a ferocious look, and I need to deflect this and fast. My husband takes the cake when it comes to overprotective fathers. Not that I fault him for it. Stella has always been the apple of his eye, and he’s been completely and utterly in love with her from the second she took her first breath. Last year, when her boyfriend of a year dumped her shortly after taking her virginity—something I only know because I overheard Stella confessing to her best friend—I thought I would need a restraining order to keep West and Curtis from beating his ass.
My husband’s brown eyes land on mine. “What’s going on? Please tell me I didn’t just hear what I heard.”
“It’s nothing. You know how Stella likes to shock. She didn’t mean it literally.” I hope. I know, from personal experience, how easy it is to get a rep in high school and how nasty teenage girls can be. I don’t want that for Stella.
“Stay away from football players!” Curtis warns Stella. “They’re bad news.”
“Hey,” West pipes up. “Not all players are bad news.” He points at himself. “I’m a good guy.” His eyes narrow to slits as he eyeballs his father. “Unlike some I could mention,” he murmurs, drilling his dad with a sharp look.
What the hell is that about?
“Tell that to the string of broken hearts you left behind until Hazel tamed you,” Stella retorts as Ridge strolls into the kitchen, humming under his breath. He goes still, his observant gaze moving to his siblings, sensing trouble brewing.
Tossing West’s cryptic comment aside to dwell on later, I say, “Okay, enough. Let’s eat.” I want to end this standoff before World War Three erupts. “Stella, give the boys a dish each to carry while I carve the meat.”
Surprisingly, Stella obeys without protest while I transfer the roast lamb to the wooden board and remove the electric carving knife. When the kids have left the kitchen, Curtis comes up alongside me, giving me a cursory once-over.
I’m instantly on guard. “What?” I ask while simultaneously plugging the knife in.
“Is that a new dress?” He leans against the counter, eyeing me with what looks like interest. It’s hard for me to tell because my husband hasn’t shown any interest in me in months. If I’m being honest, it’s actually been way longer than that.
“Yes. Why’d you ask?”
He shrugs before unfurling to his full height. My husband is hot and as handsome as when I met him. He takes good care of himself, working out early every morning at the company gym, and he also jogs, cycles, and takes regular hikes with the kids. His dark hair is kept short, and the scruff on his face is always neatly trimmed. His chocolate-colored eyes contain the same swirling depths, but the attraction isn’t the same. When I look at Curtis now, I see a handsome man who garners attention wherever we go. But the all-consuming need to be near him, the unquenchable need to touch him—that I felt for a long, long time—is absent now, and I don’t think it will ever return. Whatever spark we had has died, and it hurts to admit it to myself.
But it’s the truth, and I can’t force myself to feel things I don’t.
Darting in, he kisses my cheek. “You look pretty. Is telling my wife that a crime or something?”
I clutch the carving knife tighter in my hand, hating how I’m instantly suspicious of his motives. “Honestly? It’s been so long since you’ve even noticed me, Curtis, that any kind of compliment stands out.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it.”
Anger swims in my veins, and I glare at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“You act like this is all my fault.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he seethes as he glares at me. “I fucking apologized, but you’re never going to forgive me, are you? You said you have put it behind you, but you won’t ever stop punishing me for it, and I’m tired of the bullshit, Kendall. I made a mistake, and I have tried to make it up to you, but nothing is ever good enough.” He spins around, sneering when his gaze lands on the vase of flowers. “You don’t need me to pay you attention when you have Vander fawning all over you with his little schoolboy crush.”
Blood drains from my face, and nerves fire at me from all angles. Curtis snorts in a derisory manner. “Not that I blame the kid for his mommy issues. If I had that drunken slut for a mother, I’d be drooling over my best friend’s mom too.” With those awesome parting words, my husband leaves the kitchen while I try to ignore the hurtful insinuation and slice the lamb with trembling hands.
“That was delicious,” Vander proclaims, placing his silverware down on his empty plate. “Thank you.” He lifts his head to look at me, and I silently beg him to keep his game face on. I’m sitting at one end of our table while Curtis sits at the other end, and it’s feels symbolic. The kids sit on either side between us. The atmosphere has been strained, and I’m sure everyone has noticed, even if Stella and West have kept the conversation going during the meal. It’s hard to miss the angry slash of Curtis’s jaw or the hostile glares he sends in my direction.
I wonder if this is all an attempt to deflect the truth. To begin setting up the blame before everything is revealed. I am even more convinced than ever that he’s having another affair.
“You’re welcome.” I smile softly at Vander as I push my barely eaten plate away.
His brow creases as his gaze lowers to my food. “Weren’t you hungry?”
“I don’t have much of an appetite today.”
His frown deepens, and fully-fledged anxiety returns when I spot my husband glowering at Vander. I almost laugh at the irony. I’m not the one committing adultery—unless you count the thoughts in my head—yet Curtis is treating Vander like he’s affronted him, when I’m the only one who has the right to feel aggrieved.
“Dad.” Ridge finishes his dinner and climbs out of his chair. “Can we go out on our bikes now?”
Curtis’s gruff demeanor softens as our youngest stands beside him. “Sure thing, bud.” He tousles Ridge’s white-blond hair and kisses his brow. “Help with the cleanup while I change out of my golf clothes. We’ll head out then.” Curtis stands, throwing his napkin down on his chair before exiting the room, without so much as a thanks or a look in my direction.