Page 55 of Sex. Love. Marriage.

“Yeah? When?”

“If I remember correctly, you were complaining about not getting laid. I got you laid.”

I roll my eyes. “And a broken hand, an erection for an entire day, and my wife a black eye.”

“Those are all things you did, buddy, not me.”

I let Bonner walk away, but it’s Jason I stop because he’s smiling at Kelly, who’s approaching us. “Hands off Catwoman tonight.”

Jason grins. “You know, Batman and Catwoman have a secret love affair.”

“The only love affair you will be having is with my foot if I find out you touched her.”

Kelly hears my warning and pushes me away. “Oh, stop.” She smiles at Jason. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

I’m pretty sure that was a dig at Dracula, and I’m going to show her just how hard my bite can be before the night’s out.

Jason leaves, probably to go check on Bonner. That leaves Kelly and I alone standing at the end of our driveway. “Where are the kids?”

Kelly points up the street. “Ella is watching them.”

“Who’s Ella?”

“Charlee and Steve’s daughter.”

Up until now, I didn’t know they had kids. “Oh.”

Then Kelly says, “Hazel learned to twerk,” and waits for my reaction.

I take my vampire teeth and place them in my mouth. “Should I know what that is?” At least I know I said that, but have you ever talked with vampire teeth in your mouth? It’s surprisingly difficult.

Kelly smiles and shows me a video of our five-year-old shaking her ass like she’s in a rap video.

“What the fuck?” I rip the teeth out of my mouth. “Who taught her that?”

“She says she saw it on YouTube.”

“Take their iPads away. Forever.”

In the darkness of the night and the lack of lighting near the haunted house, I fight the urge to pull Catwoman closer and let her know Dracula is where it’s at. My eyes drop to her legs, every single curve pronounced by the shiny leather. It’s torture not being able to touch her with all these kids around. “How long do we have to do this?”

Kelly fixes her hair, her eyes on the haunted house. She hates them, has since we were kids. I’m to blame for it. “Do what?”

“This block party shit.”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say because my wife looks at me like I’ve pissed on her. “It’s fun, Noah. Better than doing dishes or cleaning the house.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m smart enough to know that’s a dig at me and the monotonous life we sometimes have. Up until about two weeks ago when I let Bonner start giving me ideas.

I push out a heavy breath. “When can we fuck?”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Is that all you think about?”

Yes. “No.”

“Liar.”

I give her a once over. You know, to silently gesture to the costume. “If you didn’t want me to think about fucking you, you wouldn’t have worn that.”

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