Page 107 of For The Weekend
Unable to resist any longer, I sweep her up, her legs wrapping around my waist. Our lips meet again, hot and urgent. Welick into each other’s mouths, a little sloppy, a lot desperate, and I tighten my grip on her ass as she tunnels her fingers into my hair. I’m about to lift her onto the stainless-steel counter when the sound of the curtain swishing open makes us both freeze.
Eloise and I both whip our heads around to see Mio’s eyes go wide. She immediately spins on her heel to march right back out, and Eloise bursts into giggles against my neck. I let a smile loose too.
I reluctantly set her back down and smooth my hands over her hips, silently cursing that I hadn’t thought ahead about how I’d want to strip her naked and fuck her as soon as possible. But we’re in her kitchen, and my kid’s right out front.
“I brought Mazie with me,” I say, linking my fingers with Eloise’s, tugging her toward the curtain, but she stops me.
“Wait. Wait. I have something for you.” She pulls me toward the other end of the counter, where the pan she took out of the oven sits on a cooling rack. Sitting front and center is an enormous cinnamon bun, drizzled with so much icing it’s spilling over the edges.
“I made this for you. And Mazie.” She bumps my hip with hers. “My own way of apologizing.”
“She’s gonna sleep at your place after she eats this. You can deal with her sugar high.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
I don’t doubt it, and we make our way out to the front of the bakery, hand in hand. I immediately spot Mazie, perched on a chair with cinnamon bun carnage covering the table in front of her. She’s managed to coat her cheeks and chin in icing. But the second she sees Eloise, she jumps down and charges over.
“Ellie!”
She crashes into her legs, and Eloise doesn’t hesitate to sweep her up into a hug, getting icing smeared all over her shirt in the process. She doesn’t even flinch, merelylaughs and wipes at Mazie’s mouth with her hand, something so natural and maternal about the action, and I know she was meant for this. Meant for us.
“I have something for you,” Mazie practically screams at Eloise, and I blow out a breath.
“Volume, Maze.”
She ignores me—of course—too intent on retrieving the paper bag from her table. She holds it out eagerly. “For you!”
Eloise takes it, peering inside. When she pulls out the framed drawing, her smile falters. I watch emotions flicker across her face as she takes in the picture Mazie drew of us—her family. The same one she’d drawn of me with blue hair, Eloise as a pink stick figure, Mazie in a pink dress, and Steve. All of us holding hands. Even the rabbit.
I did frame it, like she asked.
Tears fill Eloise’s eyes, and Mazie’s forehead crinkles with concern. “Why are you crying? Are you sad?”
Eloise is quick to assure her. “No, babe. I love it. I just got a little choked up because I’m so happy.” She kneels down to Mazie’s level. “This is the most special gift anyone has ever given me.”
My daughter beams, throwing her arms around Eloise’s neck. “I love you.”
“I love you too. So much.”
Eloise meets my gaze over Mazie’s shoulder before picking her up and leaning against my chest, so I can wrap my arms around both of them. And I know without a doubt, we’re going to be a family.
Me and my two girls.
Chapter 31
Eloise
In the two weeks since Roman and I reunited, I’ve rarely stayed at my own apartment. So much so that he bought me my own toothbrush and toiletries, making sure I have my shampoo and conditioner. In return, I convinced him to start wearing moisturizer and stop using a three-in-one body and hair wash.
Soon, I’ll have those luscious locks of his shining and healthy. I comb my fingers through the nearly black strands as he rests his head on my chest, one arm slung around my waist, the other tucked up under me. My personal weighted blanket.
We spent the night with the entire extended Stone family at Griffin and Andi’s house, where I ate way too many servings of Nicole’s sweet potatoes fried in butter and cinnamon, and laughed so hard at Clara’s impression ofBatmanduring charades that my cheeks still ache.
There was more fun and love in this one night than I think I’ve experienced in my own family in all the years combined. My mother had called and left a voice mail about attending Thanksgiving dinner at her house, but didn’t say anything else,didn’t reference anything I told her when we previously spoke about how she treats me. So I ignored it.
And while it makes me uncomfortable to disappoint people, my chosen family more than makes up for it.
I trace my fingers along Roman’s arm, over the dark ink of his forearms and up to his biceps then back to where he has his mother’s tattoo next to mine. I smile to myself at the outrageously adorable animal then splay my palm over the balloon, thinking about Violet Stone and how she must be so proud of Roman. Of all her kids. Her entire family.
