“Evan…it’s adorable she tried, but Remi should stick to slinging beers or something else, and I mean that in the sweetest way possible.” Kristen chose tack for once and I appreciated it.
“Okay, but did she have to kill me in the process?” I whispered, trying to not wake anyone up from the broken tooth pain that was making me irritable and moody.
“Oh God, stop it, I’m going to pee myself laughing so hard.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I growled, “I hate you.” I could barely make out what Kristen was saying between her snorts and laughs.
“No you don’t.”
“Yeah, yeah I do. I hope Damien knocks you up and you fucking pee your pants when his spawn starts kicking your bladder, you brat.”
“Awe, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said about him in years.” She cooed.
It was, but I wasn’t going to admit it. Ever. Kristen could fight her own battles. She just better get me a damn dentist recommendation.
“Don’t push it, Kristen.”
Her voice took on a wistful tone and teasingly she said, “Imagine the two of us procreating.”
The thought made me gag, and I shared my distaste through the phone.
Turned out Kristen did the accounting books for a dentist in town, and he was able to fit me in. Doctor Stephanopolis had an opening and was willing to see me on an emergency basis. Now I had an idea of what Ethan was going through, crying inconsolably like he did at three in the morning with this level of pain. Little man didn’t have visible teeth yet, but he had all the signs of teething early.
Too bad I couldn’t get Remi to rub that numbing gel inside my mouth with her little finger. I thought about sucking on her finger, the tip of her nail coated in a bright color of nail polish that would match her lips and maybe a set of lacy underwear where her pale breasts spilled over. I’d be driven to lick and kiss them if she let me. These mom porn thoughts in my head didn’t help the conflicting emotions or my perpetually hard dick. I wondered if the numbing gel would work on that too but figured that was a dangerous game to play. It reminded me of a painful football memory our junior year involving BENGAY in the trainer’s office and half the team ready to quit right before homecoming.
No thanks.
My cracked tooth required a crown. I didn’t care what the dentist did or how he did it as long as the searing pain knifing my brain would stop. I was finally king of something after all with this crown, considering I lost all control over my household. I was too busy trying to make my sweet girl my queen. We already shared love for our little prince, and I considered that kid more mine than that dipshit Ryder’s. We would be better off if he disappeared and never bothered us again, even if I couldn’t say that to Remi.
At some point I’d ask her if she would consider filing for sole custody because I planned on taking care of both of them. But that was a sword to die on another day.
I figured now was as good a time as any to head over to the bar and see friends I hadn’t seen in a while. These painkillers kept me moderately sane and stable. I wasn’t supposed to drink on the pain meds the dentist gave me, but I was in a serious fuck it all mood today. Arriving at Easton’s found me in the company of Hunter, his dick cousin who shall remain nameless, and our own calendar model—Whittaker Jones. We were a nice gaggle of men nursing beers in the afternoon, according the server Sandra, who filled our orders repeatedly. Even Dick-Damien was on his best behavior.
“So how are things at home?” Hunter asked, taking a long drag off one of Andy’s popular home brews, something he called Witch’s Tit and only offered seasonally.
“It’s going well. Everyone is…adjusting.” And we were more or less. My once upon a time bachelor house was clean, laundry was folded, dishes washed. Not that I was a slob before, but I didn’t have anyone to clean up for unless I was entertaining a lady in my space. Of course the tradeoff was teething toys, diapers, and bottles that smelled like sour milk in the sink. But I figured the give and take was worth it.
Remi had taken it on herself to domesticate the house. I never thought I’d have baby-proofed outlets or doors. There was even a cat dish on the porch and a strikingly familiar orange tabby who kept coming around under the radar. I was putting my foot down on the cat coming inside, but I had a feeling that rule was wavering as well. I’d seen small ginger hairs on the edges of the sofa that didn’t match Remington’s fire red or Ethan’s fuzzy blond. I wasn’t a cat person but damn it, lots of things were changing in a seemingly small span of time for me, and the feelings of being trapped weren’t anywhere to be found. I’d previously viewed women as an invasive species, but I enjoyed this wholeheartedly.
I didn’t know when one beer became two or even three—it might have been the cat might be in the house thoughts, but I knew I was without a doubt over the legal limit and in no shape to drive.
“Evan, I think I should call your missus to come pick you up.”
I raised my head from the counter where Andy was leaning in close, grinning from ear to ear. So he thought he was a funny man too, eh? Everyone was a fucking comedian these days.
“Now why would I do that, buddy?” I slurred.
“Because I don’t want to see a decent guy losing it all driving drunk,” he said, switching out my beer for water.
I blew Andy off with a dismissive wave. He was right. I wasn’t going to drive. Shit. I could have technically walked home from there. It would take me a bit until I sobered up, but I could do it.
Turned out falling off the barstool and whacking your head on the floor gets you a special escort home. Luckily, Hunter got me into his truck, having had plenty of practice driving Miss Daisy—Damien—home a time or two.
25
Remi
“Are you sure I should be baking a chicken?”