Page 19 of Seven Year Itch
“Yes, and she’s totally passed out.” Trista reaches under the blanket to clip the strap of her maternity bathing suit back on. “Milk coma.”
“I’ll take her inside,” Johanna says, leaning over Trista to scoop a scrunched up and sleeping Stevie into her arms.
“And make sure she—”
“Burps,” Johanna finishes Trista’s sentence. “I got you, sweetie.”
Trista smiles warmly. “Thanks, Jo.”
She winks back at her future daughter-in-law and takes Stevie back into the house.
“See what I mean?” Trista says with a sappy smile as she stretches out. “I didn’t even have to snap my fingers.”
My brows lift in appreciation. “Maybe I could come around to the idea of kids if I knew my mom would be as good a grandma as that.”
“No one is as good a grandma as that,” Cozy says with a laugh. “My parents are great, but Johanna Fletcher is saintlike.”
A round of margaritas is delivered by Carlos, and we sip and enjoy some much-needed girl talk and vitamin D. Colorado winters tend to turn me into a vampire, so this sun is life-changing.
“Why do you keep messing with your swimsuit top?” Cozy asks as I adjust the breast cup of my black bikini for the hundredth time.
I huff in frustration. “This suit used to fit me, but my boobs are bigger now, and I haven’t worn this one in years.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Trista asks with a pointed look.
“No, I just had my period two weeks ago,” I reply confidently. Not to mention it’s been almost a year since I’ve had sex. “I’ve just gained weight. Some of my old clothes don’t fit like they used to.”
“I think you look amazing,” Addison says sweetly.
“Thanks,” I reply with a laugh. “And you can look as amazing as me for the low, low price of a divorce that costs you six figures and twenty extra pounds!”
Silence descends as all three ladies stare awkwardly back at me.
“Oh God,” I groan and push my sunglasses up on top of my head. “I sound like a bitter divorcée, don’t I?” I gasp and clutch my chest. “I’ve turned into my mother. Someone kill me!”
“You are not your mother,” Cozy corrects me.
“Here, have the rest of my margarita,” Trista says sympathetically as she passes her drink over. “You’ve earned it.”
I drink it all too willingly and give myself a mental pep talk. I will not be this scorned woman who only talks about her divorce like my mother was most of my life. I will get back to my former happy-go-lucky, confident self. I’ll turn my lemons into margaritas, dammit!
I stare down at my breasts spilling out of my bikini. “But hey... a little divorcée weight gain gave me bigger tits, so at least I saved money on a boob job.”
“Cheers to that!” Cozy clinks her glass with mine.
“Are you four going to get in the water anytime today?” Max asks from inside the pool, eyeing his wife like a piece of meat. “We want to play a real game of volleyball and could use the numbers.”
Cozy looks to me with a challenging smile.
“We’re in,” I state confidently. I’m on vacation, and it’s time I start acting like it.
Calder
As I watch the four ladies make their way into the water, I feel my body tense when Dakota struts across the pool deck in a black string bikini that she has no business looking that good in. Her nipples are pebbling through the thin fabric, and I have half a mind to cover poor Ethan’s innocent eyes.
Honestly, I’d like to cover every man’s eyes in the pool. And Carlos too! No one should be looking at her when she looks like that. I glance around to see if they’re all staring at what I’m staring at, but shockingly, they’re not. They’re gawking at their own ladies, and here I am ogling Dakota like the pervert I clearly am.
Am I a sadist? Is it sadism to be attracted to someone who makes you miserable? Either way, this is a family vacation, and that is not a family-appropriate bathing suit.
