Page 90 of Tickled Pink

I take a soothing breath as the blades spin above.

We fly.

I watch New York state pass us by. I admire Thad in his element, a man truly born to be among the clouds. I clench Max’s hand the entire flight, my heart racing with love. I realize where we’re going before we reach our destination, but I still gasp the moment I see it.

Niagara Falls.

Tears spring to my eyes. A perfect Valentine’s Day. Just me and my boys. A day unlike any that’s come before for us. A new chapter in our wild story.

And I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Part Three

Pink Birthday(s)

Chapter Thirty

Max

Phoebe’s 30th Birthday

I give the kitchen one last glance to make sure everything’s in place. Pink balloons. A pink table runner. Pink cups with little pink plates that match. A pink cake in the refrigerator with thirty little pink candles shaped in a heart.

It’s Phoebe Pink’s birthday. The big 3-0.

Thad and I have the whole thing planned out. She’s not a fan of big parties where she’s the center of attention — and with the way mine and Thad’s birthdays went this year, who could blame her? — so it’ll just be the three of us at home with the dog. She’s at work right now, but once she gets here, it’s all about her. I’m to immediately take her upstairs, strip her down, and put her in a big bubble bath while Thad picks up dinner. Once she’s all happy and giggly and relaxed, we’ll all have dinner — sushi in bed, her new favorite — and watch her favorite movie. We’ll probably only watch about fifteen minutes of it before Thad and I fuck her brains out. Then, it’s back downstairs for cake and ice cream before we inevitably fuck her again and fall asleep in each other’s arms.

And that’ll be Phoebe Pink’s birthday.

A familiar gait bounds down the stairs from the second floor and I turn around as Thad enters the kitchen.

“Okay, the upstairs is good to go,” he says, bouncing excitedly on his toes. “The bedroom is made up with a couple hundred pink rose petals all around.”

“Awesome,” I say.

“I’ve got her robe laid out for you. Oh!” He claps his hands once. “I set out that really nice bubble bath she likes but refuses to use because it’s expensive. Make her use it.”

“I’ll pour it in myself.”

“Excellent. Candles are ready to be lit, too.”

“The gifts?”

“Mine on the bedside table. Yours is on the toilet.”

“Why is mine on the toilet?”

“So you can give it to her in the bath while I’m getting dinner ready.”

I smile. “You’re letting me gift first?”

“Sure.”

“Why?” I ask, instantly suspicious.

He deflates. “Because my gift sucks.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I say. “She’s gonna love it.”

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