“Thanks, Jonah,” she says, then calls after the kids, “Girls, help your dad set up the play area.” Lamar and Cherise can always be counted on to bring games and activities for the kids—theirs and everyone else’s. Today it’s a bubble station with wands in varying sizes, and a woodland-themed croquet set.
Office romance isn’t something we typically encourage at Pope & Parkes, but so long as it doesn’t interfere with our ability to get shit done, it’s not outright forbidden. Cherise and Lamar had been dancing around each other long enough that by the time they announced their engagement, the general consensus around the office was, what the hell took y’all so long?
I introduce them both to Teagan.
“It is so good to meet you,” Cherise says, clasping Teagan's hand between her own. “I can only imagine how overwhelming this must be. Can I get you something to drink? Is iced tea okay?”
“Sure,” Teagan says. “Um, thanks.” She smiles nervously, not used to being doted on. If she’s ever in the market for a maternal figure, I have no doubt that Cherise would gladly mom the hell out of her.
“Are you in school?” Cherise asks, handing her a cup of iced tea.
“I just graduated.”
“Oh, that’s exciting! Are you starting college in the fall?”
“I don’t think so, no.” Teagan takes a long, nervous sip of her tea.
“Teagan designs tattoos,” I say.
“That’s cool,” Cherise says. “You know, Lamar and I talked about getting matching tattoos for our anniversary, but he’s scared of needles.”
“You spreading lies about me, honey?” Lamar yells from across the lawn where he’s setting up the croquet game for the kids.
“Only true ones, babe.” She cups a hand around her mouth and whispers, “He’s terrified.”
Teagan chuckles. Our Project Engineer and her girlfriend are the next to arrive, followed by another of our other estimators, and all-around numbers guy, Tim, and his family. I stay by the grill, keeping a close eye on Teagan between burger flips.
Even with all the new people, she seems to be doing okay, and the kids already adore her. I can’t help smiling at the trill of Teagan’s laughter, as the little ones egg her on to blow bigger and bigger bubbles. She’s good with them, but I knew she would be, on account of her playful nature.
I’ll admit, seeing Teagan surrounded by kids has me picturing what kind of mom she’d be. Patient and caring, for sure. Always willing to get down to their level. Never afraid to get her hands or her clothes dirty.
Asking Teagan to have my baby had been a spur of the moment, sex-fueled decision—if you can even call it a decision. I hadn’t planned it, and I certainly wouldn’t have brought it up if I’d been thinking with my right head. But as soon as I slid inside her, like a stick shift sliding into gear, the mental image of Teagan’s belly swollen with my child became all-too clear. I want Teagan in my life forever, and assuming she wants the same, that means the possibility of marriage and children.
Normally, I’m damn good at deciding which thoughts should be shared and which should be kept inside. But ever since Teagan swept into my life like a category-five hurricane, I’m all mixed up. So, naturally, I had to go and open my big, fat, fucking mouth.
She hasn’t said anything about it since, so I can only assume she didn’t take the question seriously. Probably for the best, though I won’t deny I came twice as hard after she said she wanted to have my baby.
I hear the rumble of Mike’s Harley approaching from a mile away. As soon as he walks through the gate, the kids pounce on him, eager to find out what treats Uncle Mike brought them for dessert. I recognize the logo on the box as having come from a popular donut shop.
“How the hell did you strap four dozen donuts onto your bike?” I ask.
“Hitched up the sidecar,” Mike says, setting the boxes on the buffet table.
Austin laughs, shaking his head. “Bet that was a sight. You flying past truckers on the highway with four dozen donuts riding bitch.”
“Now you know why I call her my sweet ride,” Mike says with a grin. A chorus of groans erupts across the deck.
Cherise rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know which one of you’s worse.”
I find Teagan standing off to the side, eyeing Mike’s tats curiously. Once he’s finished greeting the others, I put a cold one in his hand and introduce him to Teagan. He flashes her his most winning smile, and I toss him a firm don’t-even-think-about-it look.
“Not happening,” I growl, and he gets the hint, toning down his charm to a respectful meeting-the-parents level. “Teagan’s the reason I asked about your ink a few days ago. She’s thinking about becoming a tattoo artist.”