“You melt every time you see him,” Lo tells me. “Here, so you can drool a little longer.”
I gape as he hands Maximoff off to me. “That’s so mean, Loren.”
“I’m only stating the truth, Lily Martha.”
I squint at him, hoping to penetrate him with my glare. Instead he laughs, his smile overtaking his face. I give up. “I think he’ll have green eyes too,” I relent.
Ryke has already professed that they’ll probably be amber like Lo’s. But that was before Maximoff was even born.
With the baby now in my care, we descend the staircase together. As soon as we breach the stainless steel kitchen, I hear noises. I strain my ears.
It sounds like…muffled arguing. But I can’t be sure. Living with Ryke and Daisy, I’ve overheard their distant sex noises and sometimes they sound like full-on fighting. Bodies slamming against things. Stifled yells （of ecstasy）。 Things of that nature.
I whip my head around the barren kitchen, expecting to find a couple, maybe even humping on the counter. Not that I want to catch anyone in the act. Porn. It would be like real porn in my face.
Plus, I’m holding a baby. Someone I feel vitally protective over. Maximoff is allowed to watch porn never. Not even when he’s a teenager. Or in college. Nope. No. No. I’m putting my foot down on that one.
The noises suddenly stop.
“Lo,” I say as he scans the room, nothing but sparkly clean granite countertops, leather bar stools and dim lights. “I think we have ghosts in this house.”
His brows shoot up. “Ghosts that fuck?”
I adjust my baby in a one-hand cradle and then punch Lo’s arm. It’s only fair. F-bombs have been banned in the presence of baby ears.
He rolls his eyes. And then something knocks in the pantry, like a can clattering to the floor. I jump, thankfully clutching Maximoff tighter and not dropping him. Dear God, don’t let me drop my baby. I cannot ever be that startled.
Lo stretches his arm out, keeping both me and our baby away from the pantry. “It’s probably just mice.”
My eyes grow big. “Large, mutant mice.”
And then the pantry door slowly creaks open like something from a horror film. When I see a shirtless Ryke, my nerves plummet to nothingness.
“Or it’s just my horny older brother,” Lo says with a bitter smile.
“We weren’t screwing,” is the first thing Ryke says. His gym shorts are slightly askew, and he lifts them higher on his waist, his hair so disheveled that I can tell a girl ran her fingers through it. His lips are pink and raw like he’s been in one serious make-out session.
I break into a huge grin. This image does not turn me on in any way, shape or form. I love my hormones again.
“I’m sorry,” Lo says dryly as he goes to warm up formula. “Did we interrupt you?”
I strap Maximoff in his navy blue bouncer. I chose what I’m most comfortable with in terms of breastfeeding, listening to Rose’s advice. It’s my choice. And plus, it gives Lo the chance to feed and bond with his son too.
“No,” Ryke growls back, his eyes focusing on me, dark and accusatory. Oh jeez. “Because someone made a pact about not having sex for six fucking weeks.”
Lo looks too worn-out to even contemplate punching him. I am too. I’m beginning to wonder if everyone’s a lost cause for cursing.
“Were you fighting?” I suddenly fear, worry popping in my head. I do not want to be the cause of a Raisy breakup. Nononono. Raisy until the end. The end being death.
“We weren’t fighting.” That comes from Daisy, who finally slips out of the pantry behind Ryke, her neck dotted red like he kissed her for a long, long time.
Even that thought doesn’t make me aroused. Ha! Take that. I’m not sure who I’m “taking that” too, but in this moment, I feel invincible.
Daisy fixes the strap of her bra and hops on the barstool, swiveling around to face me in the middle of the kitchen. She wears a crooked, mischievous smile. So they were having sex?
“I’m officially confused,” I announce.
“Nothing below her bra or her underwear, thank you for that,” Ryke deadpans. No sex. Definitely no sex.
“It’s not her fault, for the fifteenth time,” Daisy says to him. “I want to do the pact. So stop nagging Lily.”
“Yeah, stop nagging me,” I add and almost stick out my tongue. I restrain myself. I’m a mom now. I have to show a level of maturity. I cross my ankles, my feet warm in dinosaur slippers. Those haven’t lost their cool factor since I was seventeen.