Page 31 of Cocky M.D.
“Well, this is a picture of my parents’ wedding.”
They were happy and in love. My father had protected us all, and my mom had taken in various cousins or children in need whenever she could. They’d had big hearts. I grabbed a small box and started packing up the photos.
“What happened to them?”
Goose bumps grew on my arms. “They died pretty close together. When I’m upset, I look at their pictures and try to remember the values they taught me.”
He pressed his hand to my arm, and suddenly I was connected to him again, and my heart rate increased.
“What were they like?”
My lips tingled like I needed his kisses again, but I just continued packing and answered, “My parents were wonderful. My dad was an accountant, and he was so devoted to my mom. They fostered all sorts of kids, and many of my cousins lived with us at one point. So family is so important to me. My sisters Indigo and Stephanie, the single one in London, inherited his love of numbers.”
His eyes narrowed. “And you?”
The circle he made on my lower back had my body achy for his touch, but I ignored that sensation and grabbed a few of my bras. “I’m great at first-grade math, but I don’t want to think beyond balancing my checking account.”
Johnny reached into the dryer and grabbed a pile of my underwear, including the blue cotton ones, which were super old. He put them in the box as he said, “Well, our marriage will help out with that. And you can wear these again.”
Sex twice a week with Johnny and caring for Bradley were my reasons to marry in two days. I ignored the pang in my heart over not being like my sisters, who were all madly in love and happy, like my parents. Whatever I had with Johnny had to be enough.
As we headed to my small living room, which had a TV, a couch that might hold two people, and a tiny table by the window that doubled as my work desk, he asked, “Or we can get you new clothes. When was the last time you even went shopping?”
I grabbed a few more pictures and said, “I get my clothes delivered when I’m in need but often rewear the same clothes. No teacher wants to be too pretty.”
“You can’t hide yourself forever.”
I placed them in the box, but his gaze caused me to pause. “Why are you so complimentary all the time?”
“Because your blush is cute. Are you ready to be Mrs. Dawes soon?”
“No.” I reached for my necklace and realized I’d left it in his bedroom. “But being a teacher is training to be a good wife or stepmother. I’ll be learning as I go, I guess.”
He put the box down on the small table and took my hand. “I think you were more than just a teacher to Bradley. He never complained about going.”
I shrugged and quickly rifled through the papers. I grabbed my passport and personal documents, including my college transcripts and bank info. “He shouldn’t. First grade is not rocket science.”
He picked up a manila folder and labeled it Important then rearranged my papers for me, placing them in a box. “He hated kindergarten and got kicked out of three classrooms.”
I stroked his cheek. It had a bit of an afternoon roughness. “I’ll interview his teachers ahead of time and be there for him when he gets home.”
His forehead met mine, and he nodded. “You’ll be great with him.” For a second, I thought he would kiss me, but he let me go and picked up a picture I’d put aside and asked, “So are these your cousins?”
I’d meant to hang it higher behind the TV, but then I met Johnny. I stared at the picture. There were about twenty of us—my sisters, various cousins that had all lived with us for part of their lives, and me. I swallowed and remembered the family picnic about four years ago. It seemed like yesterday. “Yes. It was the last time we were all together.”
He tapped a finger on one of the guys. “Is that Phoenix Steel?”
I snapped my fingers. I probably should have mentioned him when we first met. I nodded. “Yeah, he’s the rock star cousin. He lived with us for a while.”
Johnny laughed and pointed toward the box. “You look nothing alike.”
I picked up the photo and hugged it like I never wanted to forget a moment, and tilted my head. We needed to change the topic, so I said, “I hope not. I’m not a guy.”
He came closer and pointed at another one of the guys. “And this is Stone Steel.”
My eyes widened. He would think my family members were a bunch of go-getters and think less of me. Johnny didn’t seem like the type that watched wrestling on TV, so I asked, “You know him?”
He massaged the back of his neck and put the picture next to the box. “My family is sponsoring him for the Olympics.”
