Her relationship with the boys has been strained for a while梕specially with Aaron. And I know it抯 not good, but I can抰 really blame them. When Stacey has them, she does what抯 convenient for her. She takes them to run errands or to the grocery store, or like a few months ago with Spencer to the nail salon and frigging Nordstrom.
揥ell, I抦 already here梒an I come inside to see them??
I gesture to the cars parked in front of the house.
揑t抯 not a good time; my family抯 here. And . . . not that it抯 any of your business, but I抦 seeing someone. She抯 here too. I don抰 want to make things awkward for her.?
揘ot any of my business? It抯 my business if she抯 around my children.?
I抦 actually surprised Spencer hasn抰 mentioned Violet to Stacy already. Out of the three boys梙e抯 the talker.
I shake my head. 揘ot really.?
Stacey抯 dated guys, guys who have met the boys. As long as I don抰 hear anything negative about them from the kids, it抯 not my business.
But she still folds her arms and shakes her head, tapping her foot like a ticking time bomb ready to pop.
揑 want to see my kids, Connor.?
揥ell, I抦 sorry梚t抯 not a good day.?
揑 want to see my kids, Connor!?she screeches.
揥ell, your kids don抰 want to see you! Maybe you should ask yourself why that is!?
She flinches. Pain flashes across her face before she has the chance to recover.
And I feel like an asshole.
Because I don抰 want to do this. I don抰 want to fight with her. I have no desire to hurt her. There抯 no satisfaction, or glee梩here抯 only a sick, sad sensation twisting at my insides that this is what we are to each other now.
That every time we try to talk, to have some semblance of a civil, meaningful conversation, we end up screaming at each other over old wounds and ancient wrongs.
There抯 no water under the bridge . . . the bridge has been washed away.
I take a deep breath, making my voice go level.
揑 shouldn抰 have said it like that, but your relationship with the boys is not in a good place right now. You have to see that. There抯 a therapist I know and I think棓
揑抦 not going to therapy again,?she spits out like it抯 absurd. 揑t doesn抰 work梚t never worked for us.?
揘ot marriage therapy, Stacey, family therapy. For you and the boys.?
And we抮e back to screaming.
揓esus Christ, I said no!?
I fling my hands up. 揟hen I don抰 know what to tell you. If you want to work on your relationship with our kids, I抣l support that. But I won抰 force them to see you if they don抰 want to.?
揙f course you won抰！ God forbid you actually act like a parent and make them do anything.?
揟hat抯 not true.?
揋od forbid you抮e not the fun-time dad條etting them do whatever the fuck they want, anytime they want.?
揟hat抯 not true.?
She jabs her finger at my chest.
揧ou were never there for us!?
揑抦 here now! Every day, morning, and night, I抦 here! Where the fuck are you??
Stacey抯 voice drops to a lethal hiss.
揙h, I did my time, believe me. You were just never around to notice.?
I look away from her, pressing the tip of my tongue against the sharp point of my tooth to keep from saying things I can抰 take back. It抯 a joke anyway梩his is how it抯 always going to be with her梐s productive as banging my head against a wall.
After another breath, I meet her eyes and my tone is detached and indifferent and stone-cold final.
揌ere抯 how this is going to go. The boys will see you when they want to see you. You抮e more than welcome to pick them up this weekend if you want. But they live here with me梩hat抯 how you wanted it. If you抳e got a problem with that now, get yourself a lawyer and take me to court. Otherwise, I抣l tell them to call you before they go to bed tonight.?
And I turn around and walk away.
揧ou抮e an asshole!?she screams after me.
I just raise my hand and wave without glancing back.
*
When I walk into the backyard, my jaw is tight and every muscle in my body is coiled with tension. The sun is starting to set and the kids are all gathered around the firepit roasting marshmallows. I feel my family抯 questioning stares following me, but I avoid eye contact. I snatch a bottle of beer from the cooler and sit down in a chair at the far end of the patio梩wisting the cap off and taking a long drink.
But I still can抰 shake the frustration . . . the pointless, fruitless frustration. I just don抰 get why she has to be so goddamn miserable all the time. It抯 like she gets off on making me as pissed off as she is.
Two gentle hands land on my shoulders, just resting at first. Then kneading and squeezing梬orking at the knotted, tight muscle.
揌ey.?
I tilt my head up into Violet抯 soft, concerned eyes.
揧ou okay??
And I just look at her. Take her in. Take the time to absorb the calm sweetness that抯 always radiating from her. Letting it fill me and wrap around me like a fleecy blanket.
And I think about how lucky I am to have her in my life. How amazing she is with my kids, with my family梙ow awesome she is, period. She could have literally anyone . . . but she wants me. With her whole heart. And she shows me all the time, in big ways and small.
The frustration seeps out of me, my chest loosening and warming with her touch and scent and the nearness of her條eaving me soothed and happy again.
Violet makes me happy. When she抯 around, it抯 impossible to feel any other way.
And I抳e seen too much to ever take that for granted. To waste a moment of it.
I clasp her hand and tug her around to my lap, sitting her down and wrapping my arms around her. Her lips are supple and warm when I kiss her. We don抰 make out or anything梚t抯 a brief, sweet peck梐nd then I just hold her.
Because that抯 enough. It抯 everything.
揑 am now.?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Violet
The temperature at night dips lower than usual for late September, but still warm enough that the heat isn抰 turned on yet. Connor likes to sleep with his window open梚t抯 just one of a hundred wonderful intimate details I抳e learned about him in the last few months. The kind of sweet minutiae that truly makes two people a couple梩he small facts that no one else is privy to.
Like how he knows I talk in my sleep. He discovered this a few weeks ago when I was mumbling in the dead of night and he decided to have a conversation with me. I didn抰 remember it in the morning, but apparently he asked me how sexy I thought he was . . . and I answered 損urple, definitely purple.?
The cat抯 already out of the bag about my poetry hobby梥o, after that, there抯 really nothing I mind sharing with him. Connor Daniels has all of me now.
The crisp night air breezes in, coasting across my bare back. A delicious contrast to the heat of Connor抯 chest against mine. He抯 propped up against the headboard, and I抦 straddling his hips, riding his cock in slow, deliberate strokes.
I love this position梟ot an inch of space separates us. And he抯 so deep inside me梙is hardness, thick and unrelenting梞aking me feel impossibly full, making me come so easily.
My hips speed up, as I climb higher and closer with every hard drag of my pelvis against his. Connor抯 groan is hot and heavy in my ear and I know he抯 close too. His mouth slides across my chest, leaving a slick trail, before he takes my nipple in his mouth梥ucking and flicking with his tongue and sending a spike of electric heat between my legs. I clench around him and moan his name.
And then I抦 falling, flying, a swell of pleasure coursing through me so strong my head falls to his shoulder and I go slack against him梩oo caught up in the sensation to stay upright. His arms tighten around me, holding me, his fingers grasping at my shoulder blades, his hips snapping up roughly as his orgasm overtakes him.