37
Vivien
September turns into October, and we settle into a new routine. I drop Easton at school each morning, and Dillon collects him every day. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he drops East at his Krav Maga class, staying to watch because he gets a kick out of it. Other afternoons, they go out for ice cream or burgers or go hang out at his house, and we’ve even managed a few family outings without being spotted. We’ve gone bowling, to the movies, and on several hikes so Easton finally got to wear his new hiking boots.
I’ve been writing a lot, documenting my story in a more cohesive fashion, drawing from all my journals. I suppose it’s a book, but it won’t ever see the light of day. I’m doing this for me and for Easton so that, one day, when he’s old enough, he might read it and understand how I came to love both his daddies.
I’m also sewing again, and Ash has given me a list of requirements of things she’d like to take on tour with her next year. Mom loved the gown I made her for her next premiere. They left a couple of weeks ago to go on location, in Canada, but not before they both pulled me aside to tell me they approve of Dillon and me being together. I was so nervous telling them, and hugely relieved when they didn’t judge. Not that I ever thought they would. I know they worry about me, and they’ve been watching Dillon like a hawk to ensure he doesn’t step out of line.
We eat dinner together every night, as a family, and slowly Dillon is finding little ways of injecting narrative into our conversations that hints at our friendship and how Reeve would be happy we are such good friends again.
He’s easing Easton into the idea of us as a couple with small gestures like placing his hand on my lower back as we walk in the garden, tucking my hair behind my ears, or brushing his fingers against my cheek, and our son hasn’t balked when he’s occasionally wrapped his arm around my waist.
But I won’t let him take it further than that, and we haven’t progressed beyond kissing and heavy groping. On nights when Dillon stays over, I usually crawl into his bed, ensuring I set my alarm so I can sneak back to my room before Easton wakes up.
Dillon hasn’t pressured me at all, seemingly happy with the pace, and it helps. Gradually, my grief is becoming less of a tangible thing. I still miss Reeve, and I still think of him every day, but it is getting easier. I’m laughing more, having fewer bad dreams, and waking up more regularly with a smile on my face.
Which is progress indeed.
“Mommy, you look awesome!” East says as I step into the transformed room in Dillon’s house as Wonder Woman. The noise levels are through the roof, and my ears protest loudly.
The lady Dillon hired to create a Halloween-themed room did an awesome job. Fake cobwebs hang from the ceiling, and there are a few token spiders residing in larger webs, in an ode to Easton’s obsession with all creepy-crawlies. The ceiling has been covered in an eerie nighttime sky, and sheets of red chiffon cover all the lights, bathing the room in a reddish glow. Entertainers dressed as skeletons and ghosts roam the room, while a man dressed as a magician performs tricks from a temporary stage mounted at the very back of the space.
Round tables and small chairs occupy the center of the room, and the kids from Easton’s class are due to congregate there in a while for burgers and fries. After, we’re doing a trunk-or-treat out in the driveway so the kids get the trick or treat experience without any danger. Staff from the catering company Dillon hired are presently filling our trunks, and the trunks of the class parents who are here, with tons of candy and chocolate treats. Easton is going to be beside himself with excitement when he discovers it.
“Thanks, buddy. You look pretty awesome yourself.” Easton high-fives me before shoving the mask of his Iron Man costume down over his face and rushing off to play with his friends.
“Jesus, woman, are you trying to kill me?” Dillon asks, his hungry eyes taking in every inch of my exposed skin. We chose a superhero theme as a family, and I stupidly agreed to let the boys pick the costumes. “There’s not exactly a lot of room in this costume.” He points at his tight Captain America costume, and it’s hard not to drool. He sure gives Chris Evans a run for his money, and I don’t say that lightly because Chris is fucking hot with a capital H.
But he’s got nothing on Dillon O’Donoghue.
“If you don’t want our son or his friends to spot me with a giant boner, I suggest you go and get changed. What was wrong with the Black Widow costume I got you anyway?” He pouts, looking completely ridiculous.
“God, he’s insufferable,” Ash says, coming up beside me. She’s Bonnie to Jamie’s Clyde. “I should shoot him for suggesting you wear that boring all-in-one yoke he gave you.” She jabs Captain America in the chest with her toy gun.
“It wasn’t boring. I know Viv will look hot in it but hot in a way that won’t have me showcasing my hard-on to a bunch of kindergarteners. You hear me.” Dillon quirks a brow at his sister.
Ash pulls the shield off his back, thrusting it at him. “Use that, dumbass. If you had a brain, you’d be the full package.” She barks out a laugh. “Ha, see what I did there.” I giggle while Dillon rolls his eyes. Ash shoves the shield down over his privates. “There, problem solved, and now my sexy bestie doesn’t need to get changed.”
We got ready together in Dillon’s master suite, and Ash went all out on my hair and makeup. I feel like a million dollars, and I’m looking forward to after the kids’ party when the adults get to play.
“You have really outdone yourself,” I say, checking to ensure no one is looking before I plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Easton is going to be talking about this party for years.” He was so excited this afternoon as he sat at the kitchen table carving pumpkins with his dad while Ash and I made pumpkin pie and chocolate apples.
“That was the intention.” He smiles as he looks over to where Easton, Nash, and a couple of other little boys are intently watching the magician juggle a bunch of balls in the air. “I want to make lots of special memories with him.”
I loop my arm through his, wishing I could kiss the shit out of him, but it’s too risky. Parents of the kids in Easton’s class are in the room as well as staff from the catering company. “Does that go for me too?” I ask, deliberately batting my eyelashes at him.
He swats my ass. “You know it does, and if you keep torturing me, you know I’ll get you back.”
I waggle my brows as I grin up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
* * *
“Dillon,” I scream, as he lifts me from behind, throwing me over his shoulder.
“We’ll be back,” he tells Ash and Jamie. “I just need to teach this little vixen a lesson or two.”
Ash howls with laughter as Dillon swats my ass and races out of the room. It’s just as well Easton is out cold—and tucked up snugly in his bed upstairs, exhausted after his crazy party—because my screams are enough to wake all the neighbors.