I stood tall, legs apart, expression pure. “Honest opinion, sweetie.” I turned for him slowly, and asked a sultry, “Is this hotter than boobs and butts?”
His eyes trailed the teeny-weeny navy blue and white sailor outfit. The skirt frilled prettily and added no coverage at all, revealing my navy satin and lace panties. The white shirt coming just under my breasts, I wore it open but tied at my cleavage. My cute sailor hat pinned high up on the left side of my crown, I watched as his eyes trailed my legs and the thigh-high fishnets that covered them then down lower to my white peep-toe heels.
Grinning, I spread out the feathered fan and waved it in front of my face. “Sweetie, I need your sincere opinion.”
Lev’s full lips parted lightly and he squeezed himself tight. He muttered distractedly, “Much hotter than boobs and butts.”
“So this burlesque thing could work?”
He nodded slowly before standing and stalking slowly toward me. I swallowed hard and took a wobbly step back in my heels. “Lev?”
I squeaked when he pounced on me, tackling me to the ground. I moaned when he turned me on my knees, pulled down the scrap of satin covering my pussy, and drove into me from behind. I sighed when we released moments apart. I smiled sleepily as he carried me to the bed, laying me down with gentle ease, wrapping his arms around me.
Oh, yeah.
This burlesque thing could actually work.
“Slow down!” I hollered, lightly hyperventilating.
We were going to get there too soon. I didn’t want to be early. What kind of loser showed up early?
Me. That’s who.
Lev reached over to squeeze my hand. “We’re going under the speed limit, mouse. We’re not going to get there early.”
We were on our way to meet the Petersons. It was a forty-five-minute drive from where we currently lived, and with Lidiya in the back seat, singing to herself, I made every excuse in the book to pull over.
The first one had been that I thought Lidiya was cold, but when Lev checked the rearview mirror and saw Lidiya smiling back, waving her wobbly wave and saying her sweet, “Hewwo, Papa!” he turned to me, brows raised. I shrank into myself.
I was not going to admit I was nervous. No way, no how.
The second time, I tried to tell Lev that I needed to pee. He told me I didn’t. I yelled that I did.
So he smiled at me.
The asshole.
The third time, I told him that I thought we’d gotten the dates mixed up and should go home to check. By that point, Lev was straight-up ignoring my hysterics and whistling along to the radio, while Lidiya watched her dad closely before putting her lips together as if she was going to whistle, but making a horrifying shrieking noise through the tiny hole her mouth was making.
I didn’t want to laugh. Why was she making me laugh? It should have been illegal to be that cute. Really.
My face felt hot and I breathed deep through the knot in my stomach. I dressed nicely, wanting to impress, but not too much. So I wore black jeans and a white blouse with my white blazer over the top. I slipped on my black ballet flats, applied a little makeup, and then tied my hair up into a high ponytail.
And now? Now I was sure I was going to blow chunks all over the Camaro’s upholstery.
We got there a little after two p.m., and while Lev got Lidi out of the car, I waited inside, gathering my thoughts. After a minute to myself, Lev opened the passenger door, looking gorgeous in his jeans, tee, and dress jacket, holding an adorable Lidi in her pretty pink dress and white cardigan, her curls a chaotic mess at the top of her head.
With these two by my side, I was ready as I’d ever be.
I took Lev’s offered hand and stepped out of the car. He locked it, put his arm around me, and lead me to the modest-looking house. Then suddenly, the knot in my stomach faded to a pinch. A second later, it was gone completely. Another moment, and I wasn’t afraid anymore. I had once loved these people dearly. There was no reason to be afraid.
We approached the front door together, and Lev’s arm tightened around my shoulders. I stepped forward to press the doorbell.
A loud chiming sounded, and not ten seconds later, the door opened.
The woman who stood there looked different, but under all the lines on her face and salt-and-pepper streaked hair, I found Maggie Peterson.
Her brows drew low and she placed a trembling hand to her mouth in stunned disbelief. “Mina, is that you, honey?”
At my smile, a gasp escaped her and she didn’t ask permission. She wrapped her arms around me and drew me in for a tight, warm hug, her body quaking the entire time. I lifted my arms to hug her back and listened to her shaky whispers of, “Oh, Mina,” and “My little girl.”