Page 29 of The Edwards (The Second Vow)

“Would you be okay if I joined the bowling league Tommy has been talking about?” I look at him, and I’m shocked that he feels like he has to ask, “I was worried you were having an affair; I didn’t want to do anything outside of work that took me away from you.” Now I understand. And tears spring from my eyes.

“How did we get here, Greyson?” I start crying, and he sits up, lifts me into his lap, and just holds me.

And when I settle down, “I’m not sure. But we will fix it together.” His promise is full of hope, I nod in agreement.

Things over the past week and a half have been amazing. Last week, when we started the date nights, we went to a new seafood restaurant. It was pretty good, and this week Grey got to choose. So we are going to top golf. I’m not sure why, because neither of us golfs. But he says he wants to see me in one of those skirts.

Needless to say, our sex life has improved. We were still navigating the empty house, but we decided we both needed things to do without each other too.

I, for one, found a local book club, and I even got Sara to join. I think I’ll enjoy meeting with these ladies; they meet once a week, and tonight is my first night. It just so happens to be on bowling night. So neither of us have to sit at home alone. I was pretty apprehensive about that, until I was at my favorite coffee shop one morning, and there were a couple of women discussing what book they should read next in their book club. I had read both of them, and I suggested something with similar elements to appease them both.

I’m currently at my office, wrapping up for the day. The kids should be home in time for dinner. I had asked Melody if she minded stopping by the store for us before she came over today. She started last week; she helps with laundry, dishes, dusting, the floors, and the bathrooms. I still clean up and do the dishes after dinner; usually, all she has to do dishes-wise when she comes in is a handful of cups and the breakfast dishes.

I also still keep everything tidy. But I feel like my time outside of work can be for my family. Not housework. Grey and I talked about that after Melody started. I realized I mentally felt like I just didn’t have time.

And we’ve had some great talks in the last week too; we’ve both had things we needed and wanted to say but didn’t know how. But talking after being intimate, especially with exploring more, things have become easier to talk about.

A knock at my office door pulls me from my thoughts. I jump up and rush to my daughter. I pull her in for a hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you and your brother didn’t get in until later!” I pull back and take a better look at Sasha. She has my hair, but Greyson’s eyes. She has it pulled up in a messy bun and is wearing leggings and a cropped sweater. She looks good, and I can breathe a little easier.

“You can breathe, Mom. I’m fine, see?” She does a little spin, showing me she’s fine.

“I’ll breathe when I see your brother. How is he?” She rolls her eyes but smiles, and she grabs my hands.

“Mom, he’s good. I promise, his new girlfriend is so sweet, I really like her.” I just nod.

“Oh, by the way, I called Dad when we got into town. Before you start, he’s the one who told me not to call you. He asked me to pick something up at a store for you. He said to call him after you open it.” How can I be upset when Greyson throws in a surprise?

“Well, where is it?” I ask, getting excited. She laughs at me and reaches into her purse. She pulls out a long rectangular box, and before I can take it, she pulls it back.

“Dad said you can’t open it yet. He said you have to wait until four-thirty.” She looks at me and says, “He told me to tell you, and I quote, ‘Remember when we went to dinner with Joanna.’ Idon’t know what it means. But he said you would.” My mouth is slightly agape; all I can manage is a nod.

Leave it to Greyson to send a cryptic message through our child, reminding me of when I pushed limits. And how hard he pushed back. I’m half-tempted to open it now. But we have, and by that, I mean me, I have special plans this weekend at the lake house. And I don’t want him to get carried away.

I throw my arms up in defeat. “Fine, you can report back to your father. Say ‘Yes, sir.’ Don’t forget to tell him that.” And I add a mock salute.

“You two are strange. Anyway, I’m gonna go. Everyone is at the house, and I want to take a nap. Love you, Mom.” She hugs me and kisses my cheek.

“Remember the rules; I don’t need your father upset that you had a boy in your room. Regardless of how old you are.” We decided not to tell the kids our date night idea yet.

“Don’t worry,” she says, rolling her eyes. “When I told Dad we were headed to the house to rest, he took the rest of the day off, said he had some thing to get at a shop across town. And he’d be home in an hour.” She’s biting back a smile. I think she secretly loves that her father is so protective of her. “Like Hen would let that slide. Like father like son.” I smile at the nickname she still uses for her brother. When she was little all she could manage when saying his name was ‘Hen’ and it stuck, to this day she is still the only one who can call him that.

I walk her to the door and give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Bye, sweetheart I’ll be home in a couple of hours.” With that, she was gone, and the box looked very daunting.

I reach for it, but my office phone rings, I see it’s Greyson.

“Hello, Mr. Edwards,” I purr into the phone.

“Hello to you, Mrs. Edwards. A little birdy told me your message.” Damn, she works fast; I can’t help but smile.

“She did, did she?” I play along.

“That’s right, and since you have about fifteen minutes before you can open your gift,” his voice lowers. “I want you to be a good girl and lock your office door. And close the blinds; I don’t want anyone to see you.” I’ll play along for now.

“One second,” I say, placing the phone on my desk, and I move around my office doing as I was told. “Done,” I say.

“Good girl, now I am going to hang up. I want you to call me back immediately after on your cell.” Why can’t we just talk on the work phone? He hangs up, and I grab my phone out of my purse and call him back.

He answers immediately, “That’s my good girl. Now I want you to sit at your desk, facing the window, and I want you to play with that pretty pussy. I know you are wet for me.” I gasp.

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