“Yeah, I like it, but you’re not wearing that out.”
“Why not?” I give him a little spin as I get to the bottom of the stairs, watching the reaction on his face…and other places.
“You know good and well why not. You know I’m going to be worried about you the entire time already, without you tempting every male in three counties looking like that.”
I grin, enjoying the unintentional compliment. “Come on. I wear scrubs all week, I want to look pretty.”
My veterinary practice is thriving, and I love the work, but getting dressed up and going out with the girls is a rare occurrence. Between our four kids, my practice, the house, the pets, Marshall’s work and our need to have ‘us’ time, there isn’t a whole lot of time to go out.
Not that we really want to. We are homebodies for the most part, enjoying each other and the kids at the two houses is honestly fine with us. But the occasional night out with the girls punctuates our more domestic life.
“You can look pretty without making me want to follow you around to make sure no one is going to touch what’s mine.”
From the back hall, I hear Bethany and Connor fussing at each other before Bethany emerges from the kitchen wearing skin-tight black latex pants and this glittery-gold halter top. I look back at Marshall with a grin, and he finally rolls his eyes.
Connor is hot on Bethany’s heels, the same look of concern on his face as I see on Marshall’s.
“How much trouble can we get into?” she’s saying over her shoulder. “We’re going out with Marshall’s mom.”
“From the way you’re dressed, trouble is going to find you.” Connor shakes his head as Bethany comes to stand next to me.
“You look hot,” she says, and I hear both the men groan.
“So do you.”
“Marshall, help me here…” Connor clears his throat and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t mind her dressed like that?”
“It’s a bachelorette party. We’re supposed to be dressed up,” I add, watching Marshall’s eyes drag up and down my body.
“Yes, for an eighty-year-old. I mean, where are you taking her?”
“To the Cheshire club,” we both say in unison, then smile at each other as more groans come from the peanut gallery. “You guys are taking Albert out. I mean, I’m sure you’re going to some strip club.”
“No.” Marshall shakes his head. “Albert wants to go to the driving range, then dinner at Olive Garden.”
I giggle. “Wow, that’s a wild night.”
Marshall’s mom and Albert met when we had a party here for Jackson, our second child’s fifth birthday. They’ve been almost inseparable ever since, but it took Myra years to finally agree to marry him after Albert proposed about a thousand times.
Between Marshall and me, and Connor and Bethany, we have eight kids, and we have two nannies set for the night so we can all relax and have some adult time out.
There’s a knock on the front door and it opens, and there’s Marshall’s mom and Albert. She’s wearing bright red lipstick and a huge smile, while he’s trailing behind her looking frustrated.
“Hi, girls!” Myra strides in, and Bethany and I both burst out laughing.
She spins around, raising her arms over her head, a clingy black dress brushing above her knees and sparkly red pumps on her feet. “You ready? I brought lots of singles.”
She reaches into her handbag and pulls out a wad of one-dollar bills, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Are we allowed to touch the guys, or just hand them the money?”
I hear Albert groan and look to see his distressed grimace as he shakes his head.
“We feel your pain,” Marshall says and reaches out to shake his hand as he gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.
“Besides,” I start. “You guys keep us knocked up most of the time. For once, we’re both not pregnant or still losing our baby weight. You guys should feel lucky to be with this group of hotties.”
They all roll their eyes, and I shrug at Bethany and Myra.
“Fine. But we’re all meeting back here by midnight.”
All three of us say in unison, “Midnight?”
“Yes,” Albert says with a stern look. “I gave the driver instructions to drag you out of there if necessary by 11:30, home by midnight.”
We fuss, but deep down, we don’t want to be out later than that. We will probably all be ready to come home by ten, missing our men as much as they are missing us. Dorothy was of course invited, along with her latest girlfriend, who’s been an on-and-off relationship for about a year now, but she declined the invitation for understandable reasons. We all know that the two of them wish Myra and Albert every happiness, and they’ll be there for the wedding.
We nod, and Myra turns toward the door. “Then let’s get to it. My first male strip show awaits.”