epilogue
rutledge
4 years later
I had just missed the handle of the screen porch door before it slammed shut. The sound not only an old memory but a new one. One I fucking loved hearing.
“Grayson!” I yelled as I opened the door.
The smell of peach pie filling my nose brought a smile to my face. While sharing stories with Grayson about his great grandmother, I’d told him about the magical properties of peach pie. When he heard me and Smitty talking one night about a woman Smitty had met, and because my boy was just like me, Grayson told Smitty about peach pie, so Peyton was making Smitty a peach pie to bring on his date.
“Boy,” I shouted, making my way down the hall, almost tripping over a small truck. “Slow down.”
Grayson skidded to a halt, sliding across the kitchen floor, trying to find his footing before he took off toward the left. I was just rounding the corner when he panted out in a rush, “Mommy.”
I saw him shove the piece of wood toward Peyton just as she was turning. “Look.”
“Easy,” I said in a firm voice that had Grayson’s hands stopping in mid-air. “Gotta watch Mommy’s belly.”
Peyton was six months pregnant with our baby girl. One that I hoped had the same pale green eyes her mother had. Everytime I looked at her, I lost my breath. My heart squeezed so fucking tight because I had it. I had a family. A loving family. A woman I loved more than life itself and a boy I adored. And to me, I had it all.
Peyton looked down at our brown haired, blue eyed boy with love in her eyes. “What’s this?” she asked him.
Her eyes came to me and they stayed there as Grayson told her excitedly. “Daddy and I built a shelf for you. He said that...” Grayson stumbled a little. “That you could use it to set your pies on to cool.” Grayson looked to the ground and confessed, “So I can’t touch them.”
Blue eyes to pale green eyes we stared at each other. She knew what a huge deal this was for me. I saw the wet form in hers.
“Baby,” I said softly.
“Mommy,” Grayson’s little voice sounded concerned when he asked, “Do you not like it?”
Peyton looked to our little boy and said, “I love it.” Then lifted her head, looked at me and said, “More than you’ll ever know.”
I mouthed to her, “I love you.”
She smiled.
The doorbell chimed. Grayson went running for it. I laughed because I knew what was coming next.
“Snotty!” he yelled in excitement.
And I heard Smitty grumble, “Your dad’s a bastard, kid.”
Grayson’s little boy laugh echoed through the house. Peyton looked at me, head tilted, hip cocked. “Snotty?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m running out of names. And unless you want our boy running around cursing—”
She held a floured hand up. “No, you do enough of that.”
peyton
Grayson was sleeping, his monitor next to us on the table. Rut was behind me on the teak lounger, I was settled between his legs. His hands rested on my belly, mine on top of his. We had a blanket pulled over us as we watched the storm rolling in from the distance. He pressed a kiss on my neck then whispered, “Have we fucked on this chair yet?”
We had christened every room of the house, several times. His truck, the yard, the driveway...the man was insatiable. We had not, however, fucked on the lounge chairs and with the size of my belly, I wasn’t sure it was physically possible.
“No, not yet.”
He moved his head from my neck, wiggled us, trying to assess the structural integrity of the chair, looking to each side of the lounger. “I think we should try.”
And just like that, heat rushed through me to settle between my thighs. At the rate we were going, it was a good thing the house was so big. We were going to have our own football team. “Okay.” I glanced up at him and grinned. “But I want to be on top.”
He winked and said, “Peaches, you always know that works for me.”