Page 2 of Till Cupid Do Us Part

“What do you say we get changed and go downstairs to make Momma some breakfast?” I ask the girl in my arms.

She kicks her feet and continues to babble. I take that as a yes and get to work.

Her head is on a swivel as we head downstairs and into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, she’s in her high chair, chewing on a banana while I flip two pancakes. The coffee machine splutters before filling Ivy’s favourite mug.

My phone is pressed to my ear as I listen to the new manager of the Frosty Mug repeat back to me the schedule for next week. It’s still a fresh change. When Junie was born, I took a step back from my overbearing hovering of my bar in exchange for more time at home with my family.

Now, Jason handles the most time-consuming parts of running the place while I get a bit of a break for the first time since having the place handed to me decades ago.

“You’re gone from tomorrow . . . the twelfth . . . until the . . . fifteenth, right? I just want to make sure I have enough staff for Valentine’s Day,” Jason says.

“Yeah. We drop Junie off with Jill in the morning before hittin’ the road.”

“Alright.”

“You got the decorations up that Ivy brought over?”

“We put them set up last night.”

“Don’t forget about the drink. Make sure Matty knows how much cinnamon to add.”

Jason chuckles. “He knows, Niko.”

“Shit, yeah. I’ve never been gone for a holiday before.”

“It’s only Valentine’s Day. No offense, but I doubt we’re going to have a line outside.”

“I know.”

“Plus, you deserve the break. Take your woman out, and don’t bring her home without a ring on her finger, yeah?”

My stomach tightens. “You’re fuckin’ tellin’ me.”

“You got service out at the cabin?”

“Should have some. Ivy would lose her mind without having contact with Jill and video calls with our baby girl.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t be just as bad.”

“Fuck off and get back to work.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Let me know when you’re heading out tomorrow.”

I agree and hang up while sliding the pancakes from the pan to a plate. The next two I pour on the pan get chocolate chips.

“Are those chocolate chips? Is there strawberry syrup, too?” Ivy asks, appearing in the doorway.

I tighten my grip on the spatula and let my gaze wander down her body. Her nightgown is silk with lace around the tits. I grind my teeth together as my balls draw up tight.

The curves in front of me swell beneath the lingerie, and her legs are exposed beneath the mid-thigh laced hem. Thin straps at her shoulders hardly manage to hold up her heavy chest, and with the extra growth they’ve had since Junie was born, I’m not surprised.

“Niko?” she murmurs, coming to stand beside me at the stove. “You’re burning the pancakes.”

I don’t care.

The feel of her hip against my front as she takes my spot and slowly pulls the spatula from my grip is more than enough to have me on the edge of snapping.

We haven’t had sex since before Junie was born five months ago. Between work and the stress of having a new baby, more often than not, we’re falling asleep the moment our daughter does or stressing too much to think about anything but sleep.We haven’t had a weekend truly off in months, and if we do find some spare time, Ivy busies herself before I can initiate anything. I’ve wondered if there’s something wrong that’s keeping her from going there with me now, but I haven’t wanted to ask in case she tells me something that will hurt to hear.

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