Page 12 of Love on the Rocks

“Well,” Jack presses, “what did he give you?”

“I had a really big package for her. It was a game she got to play last night. It was one of those one-time-only games though,” my husband says, and this time I choke. I should have known not to try and steal a drink of his coffee.

I set his cup down. “Only once, huh?” I pout. “That’s too bad. Ireallyenjoyed that game.”

Donovan plates the rest of the pancakes and sets them on the table. Jack helps himself and digs in while his dad shuts off the stove.

While our son is distracted, Donovan grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls me close to him. “I’m going to take Jack to school, and then you and I need to talk.”

The pit of my stomach drops. Rarely does “we need to talk” ever mean anything good. I thought we reconnected last night, but maybe I’d fucked up by pushing him like I did. If he regrets what we did, I am afraid I may have damaged our marriage.

To make it even worse, he looks really good today which will make him soccer mom catnip. Maybe he’ll see them and realize I’ll never be the type of wife who fits in with the playgroup moms. The ones who wear sweater sets, join MLM companies like it’s their religion, and make their entire identity about being somebody’s mom. I love my son, but he will grow up someday and I need to still be a person when he does. I don’t think Donovan wants that kind of wife, but there’s a lot I’m confused about right now.

“I’m going to put on a shirt and get this guy to school before he’s late.” He kisses me on the head and goes to our room.

After he leaves with Jack, I sit in the kitchen letting my anxiety run away with me. I’m just staring off into space, oblivious tomy surroundings when Wren walks into my eyeline and waves her hand in my face. “What is going on? I knocked for several minutes, but no one answered. I saw Donovan leave with Jack, so I knew you were still here. Are you okay?”

I lick my lips. “I am afraid I fucked up. Donovan said that we need to talk when he gets back. What if he regrets what we did last night?”

“What did you do last night?” she asks.

I take a deep breath. “I did what we talked about. Pressed all the buttons until he cracked. It was amazing, but not if he is going to regret it.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Have some faith in him and yourself. That man loves you. I highly doubt he regrets anything either. If anything, he probably wants to make sure you are okay with what happened last night. Since I’m married to a kinky fucker, I can spot one easily. Donovan might be the kinkiest of all our men. You are one lucky bitch.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Please, Daddy Griffin keeps you plenty satisfied.”

She rubs her swollen belly. “He keeps me pregnant.”

We both laugh. It’s a good thing Wren always wanted a big family, because Griffin’s daddy kink was mostly wanting to become a daddy, over and over again. Hattie keeps her lips sealed about what Charlie likes, but since she’s Wren’s aunt, we’re all okay with that. Harlow is always walking around with a smile, but she is married to a twenty-one-year-old college athlete, so the fact she can walk around at all is a miracle. Especially knowing our sweet Scott gets demanding behind closed doors.

Before last night I’d thought Donovan and I were the normal ones. Sure, Liam and Claudia are closer in age, but he’s always going to be his stepmom’s ex-husband. That has nothing to do with him and his wife, but it’s still fucking weird. Donovan and I are passionate, but other than the fact he was once my boss, our sex life is fairly normal.

Then I rattled the cage. For a while now I have felt like I’ve been doing cosplay of myself. The clothes and hair don’t really feel right for me anymore, but neither do the boring-ass clothes I’ve been wearing lately. The truth is, I just don’t know who I am right now, and that scares the shit out of me.

9

Donovan

I would never tell Bess,but I fucking hate school drop-off in the morning. It's always a cluster fuck of cars in the parking lot with a bunch of minivan-driving soccer moms who think that their schedule is more important than everyone else and we can just wait. Then there are the looky-loos, who like to stand out in front of the school, gossiping about all the other parents, the kids, and the teachers. I can feel their eyes on me the entire time I'm stuck inside the roundabout, waiting for my turn to pull up to drop Jack off.

It's still better to drop off than to pick up because at least I don't have to get out of the car in the morning. In the afternoon, you have the incredible misfortune of having to actually go inside to sign your kid out due to safety protocols. I get it, I don't want someone else getting my kid, but those moms are bitches.

Finally, I pull up to the point where Jack is able to get out of the car, but I'm still stuck behind two minivans and a Volkswagen that for some reason are incapable of finding their way out of the motherfucking parking lot. It's not Narnia. Just follow the traffic signs and go, but no, that would be too easy. If they did that, thenthey would have to stop applying their mascara, or whatever other bullshit seems to make them, incapable of putting their foot on the gas pedal and moving the goddamn car.

You might say I'm a little anxious to get back home. What I'm not doing is paying attention to my surroundings. So, when someone bangs on the passenger side window, I jump out of my fucking skin. Of course, when I look over, it’s that asshole, Griffin.

He opens the car door like he didn't just shave off five years of my life, and he climbs right in. I turn to look at him and raise my eyebrow waiting for him to tell me what the hell he's doing in my car. He doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry, so I go ahead and ask him. “Don't you have your own vehicle here?”

He shoots me a look like I'm crazy and makes himself comfortable. “Of course, it's parked about four cars back. We aren’t going anywhere for a while though. These bitches like to take their sweet-ass time getting out of here, but it was my turn to take the kids to school because Wren is a little tired this morning.”

“Fucking fantastic. I need to call the crew into the bar so they can get everything cleaned up and I wanted to spend some time with Bess before I had to get some work done. I thought we had everything sorted out last night, but she's acting a little weird this morning. Also, if you didn't keep your wife pregnant for the last ten years, give or take, she probably wouldn't be so fucking tired.”

Griffin rolls his eyes. “Who pissed in your Wheaties? Didn't you get laid last night? First of all, our twins are nine so she hasn't been pregnant in like ten years. Second, we’ve had four kids and two of them are twins so this is like her third pregnancy, and I'vebeen cut off from knocking her up after this one anyway, so stop riding my ass. And seriously, did you not get laid last night?”

“Yeah, I did okay? Everything was great until this morning. I was making pancakes and I wanted to talk to her about something she said last night. As I was getting ready to take Jack to school, I told her I wanted to talk when I got back. Then she got really moody, and now I'm panicking. What if I freaked her out with what we did last night? I told you, we’ve just been—no—I've been off lately, and it's really fucking things up,” I admit.

“It's called a midlife crisis man, you'll get over it. Not everyone buys a sports car and tries to bang their secretary. Just because you're not losing your hair and you don't have a beer belly doesn't mean that you're not freaking out about getting older. We all go through it. I developed a breeding kink and get my younger wife pregnant, a lot according to you assholes. Personally, I think it's a lot healthier that you have fantasies about tying up your wife and fucking the shit out of her. I really think she should appreciate that.”

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