Page 14 of Hate You Forever (Hate 1)

Her face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. “Good!” she squeals. Thiago sets her down, and she almost trips over her feet with her toddler excitement.

“Alright, let’s go, babydoll.”

“As you wish.” She takes off toward the kitchen.

“Wait for Daddy,” Thiago calls after her.

I roll my eyes at her Princess Bride reference. Thiago’s love for that movie is cringeworthy. She doesn’t watch it yet—I don’t think—but Thiago quotes it enough that it’s a part of her vocabulary too.

“You’re corrupting that girl,” I laugh.

“I’ve gotta get my baby prepared for the greatest movie of all time.”

I chuckle, punching his arm, my fist hitting a wall of muscle. “Damn, have you been working out?” He laughs back at me, flipping me the bird.

Over the past few years, I’ve really turned down my obvious attraction to Lya’s men—especially Thiago—since much to my dismay, Lya was serious about me not joining their harem. I just can't help but appreciate a good body when I see one. And Thiago has one. Anyone with eyes would find them all hot as fuck.

It would be nice to have a harem of my own sexy men, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me—especially now, if I’m contemplating marrying Marnix.

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“Rian’s up in the office, Zep’s around here somewhere. I think Lya’s already down in the gym.”

“Ugh, okay. I’ll see you later. That is, if I don’t die down there,” I huff, heading toward the basement door.

“Good luck, you’re late. Lya’s going to kick your ass.”

Amelia skips around the corner. “Yeah, Mommy kick your ass, Auntie Tawa.”

Thiago’s eyes go wide, and I know mine are just the same. “No, no Amelia. We don’t say that. Daddy messed up—don’t repeat it, okay?” he tells Amelia.

She nods seriously, before running back in the kitchen yelling, “Okay, Daddy. Kick your ass.”

Thiago groans, rubbing his hand down his face. “Now Lya’s going to kick my ass,” he whispers, so little ears can’t hear.

I give him a pointed look, but crack a smile. “Yeah, good luck to you.” I turn to walk away, hearing Thiago cursing under his breath. Lya’s going to blow a gasket when she finds out about that one. I hope I’m here to watch; that’d be great entertainment.

I head down the stairs, turning the corner toward their huge home gym. When I walk through the door, Lya comes into view, bench-pressing alone.

“Hey,” I call, announcing my arrival before setting my bag on the bench right inside the door.

“You’re late,” she breathes out, pushing the bar up and reracking it. Lya hates when people are late. It’s one of her biggest pet peeves, a button I naturally can’t help but push since I’m usually late for everything.

“And you’re lifting without a spotter. You know Zep is going to be pissed when he finds out.”

She sits up on the bench, sweat glistening on her forehead, causing small strands of her burgundy hair to stick to her skin. “Well, don’t tell him and I won’t have a problem.” She gives me a small grin.

I pull my wrist wraps out of my bag, snugly strapping them into place. “I promise not to tell him that, if you promise not to tell him I’m not warming up before lifting today.”

“Deal.” She nods, holding out her pinky. Pinky promises are legit—they’ve saved us through our whole friendship. We joke around a lot, but once the pinky promises come out, we know it’s serious. You break one of those, you break all trust. You can’t come back from a broken pinky promise.

I wrap my little finger around hers, promising to take her secret to the grave.

She stands, moving around behind the bar. “Lie down and show me what you’ve got.”

“Mmm baby, getting me worked up already,” I purr. “You know you can’t say things like that.” Leaning back, my shoulders hit the vinyl of the bench.

Lya groans. “Do you ever not think about sex?”

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