Page 63 of Fly Boy
She lifts her wineglass, our voices lowering as she says, “To family. I am so unbelievably blessed for mine.”
We clink bottles and tumblers and flutes together as Dad threads his hand into her hair and pulls her in for a kiss that’s far too PDA for the dinner table.
“Dad,” Teddy groans dramatically, and Ana giggles, her hand resting on the top of her bump.
“Oh, shut up, you prude,” Dad chides, pecking Sadie’s lips once more before turning to address my brother.
“I think we all know I’m not a prude,” Teddy says, shoveling a potato into his mouth. Then he points his empty fork at Dad before swinging it purposely at his wife. “Case and point. You don’t know the dirty things we used to get up to in your garage when you weren’t home.”
Ana stretches forward, patting his arm mockingly as she whispers loud enough for us all to hear. “Sweetie, that wasn’t me.”
Rearing back, his mouth drops open. “Wha— Yes, it was.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip to stop from laughing. Teddy glances around the table, clearly looking for help, before he slumps down in his chair, covering his face as he groans, “Fuck.”
Hoots and hollers echo in the room, Teddy’s face getting redder underneath his hands. Ana leans toward him and kisses his shoulder before resting her head there.
“It’s okay. It all worked out in the end,” she says, looking at her belly.
Teddy shifts his chair closer, wrapping his arm around her, murmuring, “I’m sorry, baby.” Running his nose up the side of her face, he kisses her temple. “I love you.”
“I know you do.” She smiles, touching his cheek, and my stomach tightens again.
How would Pippa feel if my past discretions were brought up?
My hands freeze, my cutlery halfway to my lips, the thought catching me off guard. We’re not a couple. We’re two people caught up in an infatuation, a thrill at crossing a line we both know we shouldn’t. And given who we are, that’s all it can be.
And if you lie harder, do you think you’ll start to believe that?
I couldn’t be more delusional if I tried.
Dessert was just as delicious as the rest of Christmas dinner, and now I am beyond stuffed. Sitting on the sofa, I nurse a second bottle of beer that’s still practically untouched, as I flick through the channels playing the same Christmas movies on repeat. My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket, and I tug it out, swallowing a smile when I see who it’s from.
The Boss
I have something for you to unwrap when you get home
I roll my eyes at the first message in a new thread, instantly knowing who it is, remembering the night we returned from France.
“I’m surprised you didn’t steal my number from your dad’s files the night you stole my address.” I yawned, well and truly worn out. She scrunched her nose, her lip curling up in a fake growl. I laughed, clasping my hands behind my head, andwatched her fingers rapidly add her contact details. “Good to know where the line is.”
With a sigh, she locked the phone and rolled it around in her hand. “It’s not under Pippa. I wish we didn’t have to, but…”
“I know,” I told her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d looked at me, tossing my phone to the side before straddling my waist, peppering kisses across my jaw.
Wyatt
Really?The boss?
The Boss
I enjoyed it.
I click into her contacts and press edit, my thumbs quickly typing out a new name before taking a screenshot and sending it to her.
Wyatt
*Sends image*
Brat
