Page 95 of Big Daddy

epilogue

quincey

Five yearslater

“No, I said you could have a sip! Andy!” Brielle reaches across the table, crowded with plates of uneaten chicken strips and french fries smothered in way too much ketchup. My grandson twists in his chair, gripping the plastic red cup full of soda.

“It’s mine!” he shouts, laughing as he struggles to align the straw with his lips. Once he does, he gulps and gulps and gulps. I can’t help but smirk but when I eye my daughter, she’s giving me the ‘Dad, come on’ death glare.

Taking his cup slowly and gently, I lean down, whispering, “You’re sleeping over with Papa this weekend, remember? We’ll get soda and pizza. Don’t worry. Let’s not irritate Mommy.”

The fit he was about to throw melts from his face and he beams up at me, his shining blue eyes an exact match of my daughter’s. My grandson twists to face my son, Archie, and asks, “Is it your turn to pick the toppings?”

Andy and Archie have sleepovers every two weeks. When they do, the parents enjoy a few bottles of wine, catch up onany news that doesn’t involve cartoon characters, and in general, bask in the beautiful lives we’ve created.

At age five, their sleepovers have begun to get… rambunctious. Augustus, Lance and I all privately questioned our abilities to keep up with the boys, as we’re the older ones of the group. The fear that we’d be viewed as old dads, or in my case, a really old dad since Andy is my grandson, drove us to purchase a family gym membership. The three of us work out in the mornings, and Brielle and Winnie have their time in the evenings.

I’ve never felt so young, alive and energized before. Truth be told, I don’t know that the fitness has a whole bunch to do with it. Happiness could be the secret.

“You can pick ‘em. I started likin’ mushrooms,” Archie says, pushing a curl off of his forehead as he leans down to slurp the remains of soup from his mom’s bowl. No matter what he orders, he always wants some of hers.

Winnie appears, Rosie on her hip, a package of wipes in her chubby little hands. “Okay, all changed. We’re ready.” She looks between the boys. “Potty? It’s a forty-five-minute drive otherwise.”

Archie and Andy both get up, and I follow them because five-year-olds cannot be trusted in a bathroom alone, that much we’ve learned. Passing Winnie, I give her a kiss, tickling my daughter’s belly as she reaches for me. “Da da!”

“Daddy’s taking brother and cousin potty,” I hear Winnie reassure her. “Mama and Rosie are going to the car with your big sis, Brielle.”

After the boys have washed up, I help get Andy clipped into his seat, kissing my daughter on the cheek. “Tell Aug and Lance that I got that dry rub they liked from last week. I have a bag of stuff for them. If you guys come by when we aren’t home, don’t forget to grab it.”

I kiss her cheek again, then kiss my grandson on the cheek, and stroke my hand through his hair.

“Will do, Dad. They’re sorry they missed lunch.”

I smile. “If anyone understands,” I remind her. With five adults in high-powered, driven, and successful careers, we do a lot of co-parenting and helping each other. The kids are close, and we’re a very close, loving family because of it.

I almost can’t believe that this is our lives, considering when Brielle graduated from college, we barely spoke. Now her partners are my best friends, and she and I are closer than ever. And Brielle and Winnie? The closest they’ve ever been.

Lance and Augustus had to stay in the studio today, because they opened a new production location and the lighting was being delivered. Brielle wanted to be there because she’s the reason they’re opening a second location—her mini-series a few years back was and is still so successful, they were able to grow Crave & Cure. I’m so proud of her. She couldn’t go, however, because she is moments away from giving birth. We did, however, drive out to the new location to see it. Winnie and I didn’t want Brielle to go alone, but the boys wanted to see, so it was a family visit, followed by lunch.

After waving Brielle off, I slide into the backseat of our car, and finish clipping Rosie into her car seat, teaching Archie how to fasten his belt, too. By the time I make it to the driver’s seat, Winnie has managed to pull the seat belt around herself and clip it, leaning back as she struggles for a breath.

“Soon, baby,” I reassure her, reaching over the console to find my favorite spot—the inside of her thigh. She closes her legs, pushing my hand a little closer to her panties. I cast her a knowing look across the cab as Archie talks to Rosie quietly in the backseat. “It’s nearly an hour to get home,” I remind her, knowing how she gets.

As promised, Winnie is pregnant. Again. I told her once we started making babies that she wouldn’t get a break, and I meant it. I can’t keep my hands off her and even more dangerously, she can’t keep her hands off of me. She loves my cock and even more, she loves being pregnant and having kids. There is only one downside to all of this: she’s extremely horny when she’s pregnant, and when she’s this close to giving birth? She’s dangerously horny.

I’ve been woken up with her already riding me, I’ve had more showers interrupted than not, I have received many nude photos and sexual videos via text message, I’ve walked in on her pleasuring herself while she calls out my name, and she’s even fingered herself in the movie theater because she was so desperate she couldn’t wait.

It’s a ride. A ride that I never envisioned riding at fifty-three years old, but a ride you’d have to fucking pry my cold dead body off of now.

“Just your pinky,” she whispers, chewing her bottom lip as she gives me heavy, seductive blinks across the car. “Please, Big Daddy,” she whines quietly.

I grip the wheel harder, checking my side mirror to see if I can change lanes. Speeding up, I glance her way. “Not with the kids in the car,” I tell her, even though she knew that would be my answer.

Winnie twists in the seat, peering back at our kids. “Did you have fun at lunch?” she asks, her soft matronly tone making my chest squeeze. She is such an excellent, caring mother, and because of her, I’m a better father.

“Yeah,” Archie yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Once we get home, you and Rosie can take a nice long nap. Then we’ll go for a walk near the pier before dinner. How’s that sound?” Rosie isn’t sure of what Winnie is saying, but she kicks her little feet, feeding off of Winnie’s happy, calm tone.

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