“Speaking of sacrifice…” she perked up at the sight of our waiter returning, a pitcher of water in hand. “I plan to lay myself bare at our waiter’s alter tonight. Be a dear and run to the bathroom, will you? I’m about to—”
“Say no more,” I interrupted, pushing to my feet. You only watch Chelsea hit on a man once, and you learn your lesson. I’d had bikini waxes that are less uncomfortable. I grabbed my bag and escaped just in time.
9
Vegas?
Three days later, the one-word text from Chelsea popped up. I yanked at the mailbox door, getting the rusted hinge open. There was a small soft package, tucked among the bills and I stuffed it into my bag and glanced toward the house. Easton wasn’t in sight, but his Jeep was in the drive, along with Aaron’s crew cab truck, Talbot’s Construction printed in red on the side.
I worked the mailbox door shut and unlocked my phone, typing out a quick response.
No.
I didn’t know what she’s thinking, but our current finances made Vegas a terrible idea right now. Especially with Easton’s love of craps.
Dots immediately popped up, followed by an emoji with steam coming out of irritated nostrils. I laughed, then responded.
where r u?
— Leaving High Pines. Got stuck at dads but be there soon.
I sent a thumbs up, then headed toward the house, flipping through the mail as I made my way up our painted concrete drive. I glanced in Aaron’s truck as I passed, curious if he had brought a bag. Other than a Big Gulp cup and an overstuffed clipboard, the front seat was empty.
Swinging open our front door, I paused, bracing for Wayland’s enthusiastic greeting and Easton’s shout. Neither came, and I glanced through the open entryway. “Hello?”
Silence. I kicked back my left foot and pulled off the heel, then did the same with the right. Opening the entry closet, I placed the electric blue pumps on an open spot on a middle shelf, between a gold set of Tieks and some wedge sandals. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the small package and put it on the highest shelf, pushing it behind a pair of `gladiator sandals I hadn’t worn since Selena and Justin first broke up. The package bumped against the one from last month, and I cursed myself for letting another month pass without canceling the fertility drug’s autofill. The pills were ridiculously expensive.
Pulling at my shirt, I got it loose from the waist-crunching pencil skirt as I made my way through the dim formal living room. Originally, we’d had plans to knock down these walls and create an open floor plan, one that would look out to the backyard and pool. Maybe it’d still happen one day. For now, we had six rooms that divvied up our living square footage into a choppy plan that would be a bitch to sell. I don’t know what people were thinking in the seventies. Maybe they liked to be separated all of the time. Maybe the wife wanted to cook in a square box where she couldn’t see anyone, and liked her knees to bump into the tub when she sat down to pee.
Stepping into the kitchen, I spied Easton and Aaron clustered together on the back porch, their heads tilted down, looking at something by their feet. And just like that, the unexpected and unwelcome visual pushed itself forward.
My knees, scraping against the rough stubble of the concrete as I knelt in between them.
Aaron’s hand, settling on the back of my head and pulling me in.
The worn fabric of Easton’s jeans under my hand, his pose shifting impatiently as I let Aaron guide my mouth onto his rigid cock.
“Take it all,” Easton ordered, his voice gruff.
“Jesus,” Aaron swore. “Your wife knows how to suck a cock.”
I turned away from the window sharply, trying to blot out the visual from my head. Blinking rapidly, I made my way to the slider and pulled it open, pasting a smile across my face. “Hey guys.”
They looked over, and a slow smile spread across E’s face. “Hey baby.”
In between their legs sat Wayland, his chin up, mouth open, his tongue lolling to one side. He saw me and barked, his tail thudding, but didn’t move.
“E was telling me about his day,” Aaron explained.
“Wayland’s day? Or E’s?” I navigated around the patio furniture and gave Easton a kiss, planted another one on Wayland’s snout, and then hugged Aaron. He was as tall as E, and I had to get on my tiptoes in order to wrap my hands around his neck. “Sorry to hear about everything,” I whispered in his ear. He squeezed me tighter in response.
“Thanks.” We broke apart. “And Wayland’s day.”
I glanced at Easton. “Oh no. What did he do?”
“Wayland,” he said solemnly, “was kicked out of playtime.”