“No,” she says emphatically. “We’re not doing it.”
“I’m not asking permission, Duchess.”
My voice drops an octave, and Elizabeth’s eyes widen. It’s been a long time since I’ve made any overt sexual demands of her because we’ve been overwhelmed with our new lives and our new baby, but just when I notice a flicker of desire rise in her eyes, our little puppet master lets out the loudest wail.
“Whaaaaa!”
And then he gives the side of my face a firm whack.
I never thought I would think this about my own flesh and blood, but Knox Masterson truly is a cock blocker, and now that I think about it he’s been that way since the very beginning.
Elizabeth went into labor as I was hitting that swollen, pregnant pussy of hers from the back. Those were good times. She was always horny, and I was a willing participant to satisfy her every need. I was stroking her very carefully, making sure not to cause Knox or her any discomfort, but I also was talking major shit to her that night. Real dirty. She was sopping wet way before I even slipped inside of her. She came twice before I even got a good rhythm going, and I was literally mid-stroke when the contractions began.
At first I panicked, thinking she was contracting because I had gone too deep, but no, it was just Knox making a grand entrance. He was letting me know to get out of the way because he was coming into the world… and I would not be coming at all that night. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
“See? I knew it. He’s hungry.”
“All right, boy. Let’s go get this milk you love so much and watch a little Sesame Street. I’ll play with Mommy another time.”
Elizabeth stands up and gives me a quick peck on the lips.
“Thank you, honey. I can always shower again tonight,” she says with a mischievous grin.
That one statement soothes the selfish part of me for now.
Of course she’s right.
There’s always tonight once this little hell raiser goes to sleep.
Or maybe the next.
3
ELIZABETH
When I was pregnant with Knox, I wouldn’t say that my life changed significantly. On the contrary, many things stayed wonderfully the same. I continued to work, periodically hung out with Sloan, but spent most of my time with Roman playing house and getting ready for our son’s arrival. It was a beautiful and exciting time in our lives. My body was healing nicely from the horrible accident I had been in, Roman and I were madly in love with each other and also with this new human being who we hadn’t even met yet, but something shifted once I gave birth.
It was easy to become immersed in nothing but Roman when it was just the two and a half of us. The energy of his expansive body and hard edges fills a room the minute he walks inside and I ravenously fed off of it, but now there is another force competing for his attention and my time. That energy force is better known as Knox Masterson.
The new love of my life.
When I stare into my son’s eyes I can see all the hopes and dreams that I want for him: independence, self-determination, romantic love, and world frackin’ peace. It’s a tall order, but I want him to have everything in life he’ll ever desire, and I know that begins with having parents who are just as happy apart as they are together.
For me, that individual happiness means putting off our wedding while I take a moment to concentrate on being the best mother I can be and making a success of my business, School Bucks. The difficulty with achieving my personal aim has been how to balance these parts of my life that I love, need, and desperately want.
Let’s take hygiene, for example. It’s been a very long time since I’ve showered, put on makeup, and gotten dressed in something other than a tank top and shorts. I spend most of my time taking care of Knox or working on the code for my app. I rarely have time for much else, but tonight I promised my friend Zoe that I’d attend her thirtieth birthday party so soap and a little lip gloss are mandatory.
Zoe is a super talented tattoo artist who illustrated my Masterson Made ink and someone who has since become a good friend. While our backgrounds are very different, she is a thirty-year-old bisexual who grew up in foster care and reads people’s palms for fun, and I am a twenty-five-year-old heterosexual computer nerd who grew up in a two-parent household in the suburbs, I find that in most of the important ways we think alike.
While I definitely want to be a part of celebrating this milestone birthday for her, this is the first time that I am leaving Knox to just go hang out. I mean it’s one thing to leave him with Roman to go grocery shopping or when I have a meeting with one of my coders, but to go out for a night with the girls to party? That’s something entirely different, and in some ways I feel guilty about it. I feel like my mother was home for every single day of my life. That’s what good mothers do, right?
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey.”
“You all right?”
I’m working hair gel quickly through some of my curls to tame the flyaways and frizz. Sometimes this whole curly girl thing is hard work.
“Yeah.”
“The Glamazon is at the door.”
“I thought you were going to stop calling her that.”
“I only say it in front of you.”
I don’t hear any movement downstairs.
“Well, did you let her in?”
“Did you want me to?”
I shake my head at him.
“You’re a piece of work, Roman.”
“Is she going to Zoe’s with you?” He snickers as I head downstairs to the door.
“Yeah, she’s driving.”
I open the front door to greet my friend and as usual she looks like a million bucks dressed in a sleek gold dress with strappy gold heels to match. Now I’m worried that I’m going to be seriously underdressed for this party.
Sloan greets me with her arm raised and a bottle of champagne in her hand. “All the girls in the club gettin’ tipsy!” She sings the lyrics to a familiar rap song as she enters the house.
Roman isn’t impressed.
“Sloan.”
“Roman.”
Their greetings for each other are curt, but at least they’re respectful.
“Elizabeth said you’ll be driving tonight?”
His question is more rhetorical than anything. I’m sure he’s commenting more about the fact that she’s the designated driver but has arrived at our front door with a bottle in her hand.
“That’s right. The bottle is for Zoe.”
She runs over in her heels and gives me a hug.
“You look amazing, Bitsy. Look at my little stay-at-home mom all cleaned up.”
“Whatever, girl.” I smile, slightly embarrassed by her compliment. It only affirms the fact that I’ve probably looked like a disaster for months.
“Where’s that big ol’ baby of yours?”
“He’s napping.”
“Damn, why don’t I ever get to see him when he’s awake?”
“Because you never come over here at a reasonable hour,” Roman interjects.
Sloan rolls her eyes and continues talking to me.
“You want a drink before we go? You know, to kind of loosen up all your rusty parts and get ready for tonight’s shenanigans?”