“One kiss, then we’ll get back out there.” Who am I to say no? I need his lips like I need air in my lungs. It’s unlike our usual hurried pace, soft and sweet, that underlying hunger still at the surface. My hands press into his firm chest, no longer wanting to push him away but to bring him closer, never wanting this to end.
“Fuck, baby, I’m not going to be able to go out there for a few minutes now.” Our kiss ends. Sure enough, his package is on full display, much like my nipples are, along with the wetness between my legs.
“I’m going to change. You cool off. We have all night together.” I pat his chest then bend down to pick up my towel. A groan leaves his body, and it looks like Forest is going to need more than a few minutes to calm down.
TWENTY-FOUR
Forest
“Forest, if you’re not ready to talk about your past, we don’t have to.” I’m headed to the couch, a bottle of beer in one hand, a glass of white wine in my other for Bailey.
“Nah, it’s not bad now. At the time, it was. It hurt the girls more than it hurt me.” I don’t hand her the glass of wine. She’s sitting in the corner of the couch. Bailey won’t be there much longer.
“As long as you’re sure. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t wondering what happened with the girls’ mom and what I’m assuming is your ex-wife, but it’s not my place to ask or speculate either.”
“You have every right to know, Bailey,” I tell her.
“Where are you going with my wine?” she asks with a hint of amusement as I make myself comfortable on the other side of the couch, putting my beer down on the coaster on the end table, still holding hers as I nod for her to move closer. “I see. Too good for the middle, Mr. Hughes?” Bailey moves closer, crawling until she’s situated in my lap, back to the arm of the couch, my hand behind her back, the other across her legs holding her glass.
“Why sit in the middle when I can have you like this?” I follow up her question with a question. Bailey takes the glass of wine, taking a sip. We all offered to make her a drink during the family dinner, but she declined, eyes going to the girls, and it clicked. She didn’t want the girls to see her drinking. That’s Bailey, though, always thinking about the girls first. The woman is going to make an excellent mom one day.
“Sneaky man, getting what you want.” I grab my beer and take a sip, not needing to guzzle it down for liquid courage. That would have been back when life took a turn for the worst.
“You know it. I want you in my life as well as my bed. I’ve got you there; now I just need to get you there with the girls.” Bailey freezes, unsure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, and for the time being, I won’t call her on it. Right now, I’ve got a lot to unpack, to get off my chest, a purging in the manner of what Krissy was and could still be capable of. “Anyways, the girls’ mom, Krissy. I’m not even sure where to begin. The arguing started shortly after Cammy was born. I figured it was some kind of postpartum depression, so I encouraged her to talk to anyone—her mom, my mom, her doctor. Krissy wouldn’t. Instead, we learned to skate around each other, having our good and our bad moments, but nothing like that first year when Cammy was a newborn. So, fast-forward, and things are going good, and we decide we want to add to our family. Looking back now, I can see it was me more than Krissy. Piper is born, the arguing gets ten times worse, only this time, she’s bitching about any- and everything. How she can’t work because she’s tied to two kids now, how Piper ruined her body and she wasn’t beautiful anymore. A twisted way of thinking. Nothing I could control. Pissed me off that she was so upset with the girls, two lives she gave birth to. At this point, I knew I had to wade in, calling in reinforcements with my family while still maintaining the office and doing as much as I could so Krissy could feel like she was more than just a mom.” I take a break to gather my thoughts, eyes going to Bailey’s. That softness she carries so well is shining through, hand moving up the outer edge of my arm until she reaches the back of my neck, fingers working through the tension.
“It sounds like she had a lot more going on than postpartum, Forest.” Empathetic, that’s what Bailey is without even trying.