I nodded. “That kind of makes sense. But I’m tired of spending my weekends with Chandler making goo-goo eyes at—”
He launched himself across the console before I could finish that sentence, and sealed his mouth to mine. I laughed at the sneak attack, pushing him away when he accidentally blasted the horn.
“Oops.” He raked his teeth over my bottom lip and brushed his nose against mine. “Don’t be silly. I’m all yours. Forever. Let’s see the place he mentioned next weekend. If we hate it and want to take a house-hunting break for a while, I’m okay with that. As your mother recently reminded me…I have compulsive tendencies. But buying a house isn’t the same as booking a suite at the Ritz for your birthday. I won’t talk you into anything you don’t want.”
I furrowed my brow. “What did my mother say to you?”
Aaron waved dismissively. “Oh, the usual. No big deal. The point is…we’re in this together. Me and you and—”
Tap, smudge, tap
We glanced over at Jay and his mini-me towheaded toddler son pawing the passenger side window and chuckled.
Perfect timing.
The last thing I needed was to spin over my mom’s peculiar habit of giving her two cents about every detail in our lives. She’d been better about not meddling as much since Aaron and I got married. She wasn’t spiteful and mean-spirited for no apparent reason anymore, but she loved giving her opinion. About everything.
What kind of fabric softener are you using? Oh, that’s not a good choice. Or You should really watch your salt intake. And maybe less pepper too?
We were both pretty good at laughing off her sometimes ridiculous input, but I admit, my personal defenses were high at the moment. I felt protective of our peace, and that wasn’t a concept my mom understood well.
But I’d save that worry for later.
The best thing about hanging out with tiny people who chased butterflies, shoveled applesauce with their fists, and climbed you like a jungle gym while jabbering nonsensically was that they kept it real. They didn’t give you a chance to worry about lame things like houses or a parent who mostly meant well but still drove you crazy.
Henry and Holly Reynolds-Morgan were the cutest freaking one and a half-year-olds ever. They were our godchildren, so maybe I was a teensy bit biased. But it was true.
Jay was Aaron’s very best friend and his husband, Peter, and I had bonded over the years too. Peter was a wildly successful DC lobbyist and after the birth of their twins via surrogate, Jay became a stay-at-home dad.
They were good people and possibly the second and third best-looking men on the planet…after Aaron, of course. Peter was tall, dark, and broody while Jay had an all-American vibe with dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin.
They’d said they’d never reveal whose sperm went where, but they didn’t have to. Holly was a carbon copy of Peter, albeit the pretty-girl version, and Henry was Jay’s spitting image. They were sweet-natured, curious, and totally adorable. According to Jay, they’d entered the “everything goes in the mouth first” stage. Like now…Holly licked the outside of Jay’s phone case and nibbled the rubber with her tiny front teeth.
“Hey, Hols, c’mere.”
I motioned for her to toddle my way, offering her a bite of cantaloupe in exchange for the phone. She wasn’t pleased. I offered her another piece and tickled her toes to distract her as I slipped it out of her hands. That caused tears, which I countered with an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. She approved of that. Sort of.
But I was an over-achiever by nature and I wanted her to be happy, darn it. So I hopped behind a plastic toy car—the ones kids can get in and peddle themselves a la the Flintstones—and jumped out like a frog. Holly found that mildly amusing, but Henry thought I was fucking hysterical.
He chased after me and grabbed on to my leg, howling with laughter when I walked across the lawn with him clutching my knee. Holly wanted in on the action, so I did another lap from the deck to the swing set and back with two giggling tots clinging to me like koala bears. When Henry fell, I made a production of collapsing alongside him. Next thing I knew, I’d become a human jungle gym.
“Be gentle to Uncle Matt, kiddos,” Peter chided gently.
“Go get ’em, tigers!” Jay countered with an ear-to-ear grin, spreading a red-and-white checked blanket beside us. He motioned for Aaron to bring the baby bottles he’d left on the table under the umbrella on the patio, then sat cross-legged on the corner of the blanket.
“I think we’re supposed to encourage our children to be sweet to their guncles,” Peter chided, ruffling his husband’s hair and massaging his shoulders. “Don’t get comfortable. We have to go soon.”