“You still have it.” Her gaze rakes over the Fender she gave me as a leaving present.
“It’s my most prized possession,” I say, peering deep into her beautiful hazel eyes. Today they look more green than brown, and I can see the little gold flecks in her irises that always mesmerized me.
Viv is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And so effortlessly stunning. Her hair hangs in thick glossy sheets down her back, and there isn’t a scrap of makeup on her tan skin. She is even more exquisite as she grows older, and my fingers twitch with a craving to touch her. Being around her again and not being able to touch her is one of the greatest challenges I’ve ever faced.
Snapping out of my melancholy, I run my fingers over the DOD engraving. “I purposely don’t use this on stage, keeping it for recording and personal use. I even kept the Toxic Gods strap until it snapped and had to be replaced. Ash had a Collateral Damage strap made for me then.”
“What’s Toxic Gods?” East asks.
“It was the first name of our band. We changed it when we came to America.”
“Why?” he asks, strumming his fingers along the guitar strings.
“Because our record label didn’t like the name and they asked us to pick something else.”
“I always assumed Ash was responsible for your name change,” Viv says. “I know she didn’t like Toxic Gods.”
My lips pull into a smirk. “My sister is full of shit. Despite her very vocal protests, she loved that name and fought harder than anyone to keep it.”
“Uh-oh. That’s another dollar in the cuss jar.” Easton waggles his finger in my face before thrusting his palm out for the money.
“I’ll be bankrupt before the year is out,” I deadpan, removing a ten-dollar note from my wallet and slapping it into my son’s little hand.
“It’s one dollar per curse,” Viv reminds me as Easton hops up to run to the shelf.
“I’m planning ahead. I’m sure my tally will be up to ten by the end of the day.” I fight another smirk, and Viv rolls her eyes.
“The idea is to stop cursing, not to just hand over cash willy-nilly.”
I snort. “Willy-nilly? Really.”
“It’s no joking matter, Dillon. E said fucking hell in front of my parents the other day. They werenotimpressed.”
Well, shit. I don’t need to give Viv’s parents any more reasons to hate my guts. They returned home last week for a couple of months. Then they are off to Canada together to film another movie. To say Lauren Mills was cold towards me last Friday is an understatement. I’d receive warmer vibes from Jack Frost. Jonathon Mills was friendlier, but he’s understandably still wary. “I’ll try harder, but I really don’t get why cursing is such a big deal. It’s still part of the English language.”
“It’s uncouth,” she says as I watch my son climb up on a chair to reach the shelf. He removes the lid from the jar, carefully placing my money inside.
“Wow, you’re really throwing out some beauties today. You eat a dictionary for breakfast or something?”
She glances over my shoulder, to ensure East isn’t looking, before flipping me the bird.
Laughter rumbles from my chest. “I think rude gestures should be counted as cursing too. I demand you place a dollar in the jar.”
“Mommy.” East reappears at my side, placing his hands on his hips. “Did you say a bad word?”
“I did nothing of the sort. Uncle Dillon is just stirring shit.” She clamps a hand over her mouth, and her eyes pop wide as I chuckle.
East stomps over to his mum, thrusting his hand out. “Hand it over, Mom.” He shakes his head, but his lips twitch at the corners. “Shocking behavior.”
I burst out laughing. This kid. He’s the fucking best.
“You are such a bad influence,” Viv murmurs, giving me the evil eye as she hands her son a dollar from her purse.
I sit back on the couch, stretching my legs out as I place my Fender beside me. “Never pretended I wasn’t, and there was a time you didn’t mind being corrupted.” Our last weekend together in Brittas Bay resurfaces in my mind, and I remember coaxing her into the freezing cold sea where I fucked her hard and fast before she climbed up my body and I ate her out with her legs hanging over my shoulders.
My dicklovesthat memory, hardening in record time. I adjust myself in my jeans before Easton returns and notices. Though it might be fun to see what kind of question he’d ask. He’s an inquisitive little boy, curious about the world around him, and he’s always asking questions.
Viv notices my boner, but she looks away, pretending she doesn’t.
I spend an hour teaching East the basics of guitar playing while Viv writes in her journal. Every so often, she peers over at us with an emotional look on her face. After, I take him out to the playground for a couple of hours before dinner. We eat and then I give him a bath. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I’m drying him with a fluffy towel that’s about three times his size when he asks if I’ll tuck him into bed and read him a story. “Sure, buddy.” I kiss the top of his head as I help him into his pajamas. “Let’s just okay it with your mom first.”
“Mommy!” Easton races into the living room in his oversized slippers with semi-dry hair. He’s so excited he barely let me blow-dry it. “I want Uncle Dillon to read me a story and put me to bed.”
Viv’s eyes fill up, but she composes herself fast, tentatively smiling at her son. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
Easton jumps into my arms, and I hold him close as he wraps his little arms and legs around me.
A tear slips out of the corner of Viv’s eye, and I hate she’s upset. I can guess why, and I wish I could comfort her, but she’d never let me.
I wonder if she ever will.