“Ruthie wants another kid.”
“And you don’t?”
“Hell no. Having Rochelle is plenty. I’m not ready to go back to sleepless nights and diapers. Long past that stage in life.”
“I can understand that. Sometimes though I think it’d be nice to go back. Shit was a lot less complicated back then.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” I mutter and finish off my beer.
“Need another?” Kristen nabs my empty bottle.
“No thanks, darlin’. I’m about to ride out, but I’m sure Papa here could use some company.” I push my chair back as she drops into his lap.
“Later, brother.”
“I’ll see you at the wedding.” His head falls back, and he howls with laughter.
“Fuck off,” I grumble and shove a cigarette between my lips.
“Who’s getting married?’ I hear Kristen ask as I walk out.
Asshole thinks he’s real funny. That shit ain’t nothing to joke about. I’ve decided I’m locking Rochelle in her room till she’s thirty.
Rolling up to the house, I’m not ready to have Ruthie and Alexa under the same roof, but don’t have much of a choice. I park my motorcycle in the garage. Walking into the house I hear giggles coming from the kitchen.
Fuck. I shoulda stayed at the clubhouse tonight. Anywhere else but here.
“We’re in the kitchen, James,” Ruthie calls out.
I stomp into the room, relief washing over me when I see it’s only my wife and daughter sitting at the counter eating the left-over cupcakes.
“I see you made it home in one piece.” I rub my palm over the top of Rochelle’s hair, scuffing it up.
“Ugh, Dad,” she whines.
“You have a good time on your date?”
“Our little girl is growing up. Had her first real kiss tonight.”
“I don’t need to hear that shit.”
“Whatever.” Rochelle rolls her eyes. “Do you want a cupcake?”
“I’m good. Alexa not staying over?”
“She’s here. I think she’s taking a shower or getting ready for bed.”
“Right. You girls don’t stay up too late.”
“We won’t.”
Ruthie shadows me to our bedroom and closes the door. “Did you think about what I said?”
“Nothing to think about.”
“I want a baby.”
“Ask your boyfriend then.”