Page 124 of Wildest Dreams

Rhyland: Are you downstairs?

Dylan: Getting ready 2 leave. Taking Grav to the park. Fever’s down. She’s feeling better.

Rhyland: I’ll join you.

Dylan:

Rhyland: Need me to bring anything?

Dylan: Nope. My camel toe is huge.

Rhyland: False. Your pussy lips are as perfect as the ones upstairs.

Dylan: CAMO TOTE!!!

Rhyland: Sure, Jan.

Dylan: I’m never using voice to text again.

Rhyland: Why? Your oral skills are fantastic.

Dylan: You’re not humping.

Rhyland: I’ve a feeling I will be tonight…

Dylan: HELPING!!!

Rhyland: You know, predictive text says a lot about the words we use on an everyday basis.

Dylan: I hate you.

Rhyland: Was that autocorrect?

Dylan: No. That was a fart.

Rhyland: Bless you, Cosmos. I’m glad we’ve reached that level of intimacy.

Dylan: FACT.

Rhyland:

RHYLAND

Dylan was getting her cardio when I got to the park, in the form of chasing after her daughter from the swings to the slides and roaring at her not to do things Grav then proceeded to do with an evil giggle. I smirked to myself as I swaggered toward them. They were chaotic and messy and a whole fucking lot but also kind of adorable.

Fluffy and Mittens were wobbling at my side on their leashes. I figured I could use the chance to take them out on a walk. I was still in the process of finding them a home. Two people had emailed me back after I sent a mass email with pictures of them attached, saying they were interested in adopting them, but I was waiting to see if there were any better candidates before I replied.

“Don’t run into the street!” Dylan was screaming now, so of course, Gravity dashed straight into the fucking traffic. I blockedher way to the busy road, tucking the leashes of the dogs into my pocket and football-tackling the kid. She giggled and wriggled her feet in the air.

“Uncle Rhyrand! What are you doing?”

“Bribing a three-year-old, apparently,” I muttered.

“What?” She continued squirming as I led her back to the depths of the park and away from the street.

“How about we make a deal, little stinker? If you play nicely and refrain from trying to kill yourself for the next twenty minutes, I’m going to buy you a whole-ass Barbie house. How ’bout that?”

We were nearing Dylan, who was standing with her arms crossed and a face that said she knew I was using language I shouldn’t with her daughter.

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