Page 79 of Husband of the Year
“Here I am. And there you are. You look good. Really good.” My tongue quickly coats my lips. “How is everything?”
“Surprisingly well. Liam is finally on the other side of his detox. We went to a meeting today, and he was alert. Interested. Curious. Afterward, he thanked me for being here. For all I’m doing with Mom and Dad. With Gregory. There was a deep sincerity in his voice that moved me.” Olan pulls his lips in and pauses. “I know this is hard for you and Illona, but also, I’m grateful I’m able to be here. So, thank you. For being so understanding.”
Me? Understanding? About him being away for so long. Didn’t see that on my bingo card.
“Of course. Illona’s been the best distraction. And you won’t be surprised to hear Gonzo’s been sleeping on your pillow most nights. My mom’s been an immense help, too. It’s actually been really nice having her here.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”
“She’s leaving. Monday.”
Olan nods and asks, “How do you feel about that?”
“It’s time. We’re already planning another visit. When you’re here. She wants to see her son-in-law just as much as her son.”
“That sounds like a solid plan.”
“It’s not only Sarah. Isabella. Jill. Vincent. Honestly, everyone’s been rallying around me while you’re gone. It’s been… eye-opening.”
This spawns a smile on Olan’s beautiful lips, and our gazes lock with an unspoken understanding. “Marvin. People adore you. Almost as much as me. Of course, they want to step up if you need help. You have an amazing support system.”
“I do. We do. They’re all here for us. No matter what. I’ve been told that many times lately.”
“That’s lovely to hear. And even better to feel. We’re lucky. We have each other, and they’ve all got us. That’s why I needed to be here for my family. I’m not sure my folks could handle this on their own. My mother never wants to bother Gabe or me with anything, but this wasn’t something she could pretend didn’t exist. Given my recovery, and how successful I’ve been, it makes sense I’m here. I regret not being more attentive to Liam years ago, but dwelling on it won’t alter the past. My focus right now is supporting him in his recovery and the custodial situation.”
And there it is. My opening.
“I’ve always known you’re an amazing father. But you’re an amazing son. Brother. Uncle.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“You are.” My lips curl into a soft smile, and I take a deep inhale. “How is Greggie?”
“Currently sleeping in his crib like a sweet angel.” He angles the phone toward the bedside table and a small white plastic baby monitor comes into view. “Silent as a lamb. Hence why you get me solo.” He winks, and a zip of excitement flutters through my core.
“Happy to hear he’s sleeping well. And more than happy to get you all to myself.”
I shift on the chair in our bedroom, giving it a purpose beyond holding clothes and pull my legs under me. Years of sitting on the floor in the classroom have my body fooled into thinking sitting crisscross applesauce is comfortable for an adult man approaching his mid-thirties.
“Are you?” Olan’s eyebrows jut up and he places the phone against something. I can see into the room. I know it’s Olan’s childhood bedroom, but there’s no actual evidence he grew up there. His parents have transformed it into a generic guest room with beige walls, cream curtains, and taupe bedding. It’s like the neutral threw up and passed out from boredom. He pops off the bed and is suddenly off-screen.
“There’s something I wanted to ask you about.” I raise my voice, hoping he hears me.
“Hang on a sec.”
Olan’s back, but he’s standing in front of the phone, yanking off his tank. “Just wanted to lock the door. Now, what did you want to ask me?”
He’s standing in front of me. Well, his phone. Shirtless. His firm pecs and dark nipples taunt me. I’m staring. My mouth waters, thinking about nibbling on his chest while he moans under me. Fuck.
There’s a very serious conversation about a very serious topic I need to have with Olan. Having him put on a striptease for me over video while I salivate at his gorgeous body will not help that happen. It’s alsobeen over two weeks since I’ve seen anything more than his face and am getting a little tired of recalling images of him from memory for my spank bank. The conversation can wait ten minutes. Twelve, if I’m lucky.
“Um, it can wait. I mean, if you’re wanting to remove more clothing.”
“I thought you liked my gray sweatpants?” He snaps the waistband and then glides his thumb under it, pulling slightly. I jut my face toward my screen, squinting. There’s a faint outline toward his right leg. Or is it his left? Does the phone reverse the image? Who cares? He’s totally getting hard.
“Woody appears to be getting a woody.” My tongue grazes my lips and the complete need to have him near overtakes me. I’m drowning in open waters and he’s my oxygen.
“Babe. It’s you. That face. You. You do this to me.”
