Page 97 of Love Is Ale You Need

My heart swells to the size of the fucking universe. My grin is the same size. She loves me. She fucking loves me. As much as I wish she’d tell me, I know she needs time. She does things at her own pace. When the timing is perfect, she’ll tell me. In the meantime, I’ll have some fun.

I wipe the cheesy grin off my face and stroll into the open kitchen. “What did I hear about love?” I pluck a piece of broccoli off a tray and toss it in my mouth.

All the color drains from Rylee’s face. “Oh. Um.” Her gaze dances from me to Dessa, back to me, and then to the island of food in front of her. “I would love if you could take these veggies out for our guests.” She shoves the wooden board at my chest.

“Done. Next time, give me something more challenging.” I press a kiss to her forehead. When I pull away, I wink. Her eyes widen for a split second. If I would have blinked, I would have missed it. In a few short steps, I’m out the patio door to let her stew about if I overheard her or not.

* * *

Rylee lowers herself to plush armchair in my living room. “I’m not moving for the next twenty-four hours.”

Bending down, I brush a strand of hair off her forehead and press my lips to hers. “How are you doing?”

“Tired. I’m not moving. Ever. I’ve come to the conclusion Acorn likes to party. He or she has been breakdancing on my bladder all day.”

The party was a hit. Everyone had a great time. It felt less like a baby shower and more like a get together with friends and family with the occasional baby shower game. The backyard was filled with laughter from the Guess the Candy Bar game. It’s not every day where you watch adults sniff melted chocolate bars in diapers to figure out what the candy bar is. The Snickers had a few people gagging just from the sight. For the rest of the party Rylee’s mom was on her best behavior.

“The option to stay here is always on the table. I have a nice pillow top king size bed. The spare bedroom is ready for Abby.” I tilt my head, waiting for her answer.

“Is this your way of convincing us to move in?”

“No. But if it helps, I’ll take it.” I smirk.

“Tell Abby we’re having a sleepover.” She toes the ottoman as she tries to drag it closer to her. Though she’s cute as hell with the tip of her tongue peeking out as she fights the ottoman, I put her out of her misery and push it to her. “Thank you. I’ll be right here for the remainder of the evening.”

I love having her in my space. Now I need to convince her to make it permanent.

THIRTY-SIX

THE THROWDOWN

Trey

I loved waking up to Rylee’s warm body snuggled against mine. We did keep our extracurricular activities PG-13 mostly because we didn’t want Abby to get spooked from staying somewhere new and busting in on us in a compromising position. I want to wait a few more years before I start traumatizing the kids.

Earlier in the week, while at the mall to buy a couple of princess pillows and bedding for the spare room, I threw a quarter into the wishing well. I never expected her to say yes but maybe she’s slowly rounding the curve to take me up on my offer of her and Abby moving in. I’ve learned how hard and how often I can push Rylee’s buttons, but each time I ask a little more of her hesitancy chips away. Eventually, I know she’ll say yes.

I pull into a parking spot at her dimly lit apartment complex. After the baby shower, she kept everything at my house until I could bring things over that she could use right away when our acorn is born. A late meeting kept me from coming over until well after sunset.

I grab one bag from the back seat and slam the door shut. I’ll collect the rest after I get her key, then she won’t need to buzz me up. My eyes are fixated on the front door when a shadowy figure emerges unexpectedly from behind a parked truck mere feet away.

“This is your fault.” The tone is deep and menacing.

I freeze. The hackles rise on the back of my neck. “Excuse me?”

“This is all your fucking fault,” the voice seethes. He steps into a ray of light shining down from the streetlamp, revealing his face as he takes a step closer.

Jesus Christ. My shoulders drop with relief. “What are you doing here, Kyle?”

“I’m here to talk to you.” His voice is stern as he stumbles forward, nearly toppling over.

“Are you drunk?”

“It’s your fault my own daughter doesn’t want to spend time with me.” He jabs a finger at my chest.

“My fault?” I scoff and brush his hand away. “I think you got that backward. You did that one all on your own. If you didn’t bail on her every other weekend, maybe she’d be more excited to spend time with you.”

“And what the fuck do you know about raising kids? Oh, that’s right. You probably have a shit ton since you fuck anything that walks.” His body sways back and forth.

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