Page 157 of Wildest Dreams

“Hey, I’m not finished Then I’m going to fulfill every single dream you’ve ever had.”

“Even the Chris Hemsworth one?” she sassed.

“Fine. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent of your dreams.”

She laughed. “Thank you.”

“For what, baby?” I stood up.

“For making me courageous. For teaching me how to chase my dreams again. With you by my side, I think I can actually become a doctor. I want the big wedding I dreamed about when I was a kid. The puffy, dessert-looking dress that is out of fashion but that I married my Barbie in. The ring you chose for me, which was perfect. The violins.”

“We’re having violins?” I grinned.

“We’re having violins,” she confirmed.

“Did Barbie marry Ken, baby?”

“Yes.” She kissed me, clinging to me. “But Row’s G.I. Joe was her side piece.”

I snorted into our kiss, scooping her up. She wrapped her legs around me.

“Also with Spider-Man, Batman, Korg, Valkyrie, and the green PJ Masks figure,” she mumbled into our kiss.

“Christ, Dylan.”

“Hey, Ken emotionally checked out of that marriage as soon as they went to their beachside honeymoon in my kitchen sink. Kudos to her for moving on.”

I kissed her again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love Grav too, you know.”

That last one earned me much more than a kiss.

RHYLAND

Six months later

“She’s screaming, kicking, and making a fuss.” My phone was glued to my ear, and I stared at the pitiful mess at my feet. “I had no idea the first day of preschool was going to be this stressful for her, Row.”

“My sister is only a hundred and twenty pounds. Get her off the floor, and take her back to your car,” my best friend grumbled. “How hard can it fucking be?”

“Four times a night, and sometimes when I’m still inside her.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“My jokes are my art, and I will die for my art.”

“Okay, Pic-ass-o, pick her up before the paparazzi arrive,” Row enunciated.

I was attracting all kinds of attention now that I was a semi-famous tech mogul.

“Fuck. She’ll use her claws, but okay.”

I hung up the phone and tucked it into my pocket. Dylan was still crying on the floor outside the preschool. Yeah, the same one she was supposed to give an answer to some months ago and never did. Luckily, I’d had the foresight to pay the application fees and fill out all the forms so Grav would have a spot there. I knew Dylan would end up going to college and would need to put Gravity in the three-day program. Cherrie was very accommodating of the fact that I’d signed a child who was not technically under my care to her school.

And the little stinker? She was a rock star about it. She was joining class during the second semester, so we skipped the fancy signs and photo shoots, but she showed up today with an apple to give to her teacher and the neon-green UGG boots I got her as a gift so she’d always remember her individuality, even if she needed to wear a uniform now.

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