Magnus Andersen: What do you mean why is my user name Magnus Andersen?

Magnus Andersen: That’s my name

Me: Really? You expect me to believe that Magnus Andersen is using Timber?

Magnus Andersen: Yes.

Me: Sorry, I don’t buy it. And if you’re lying about your name then….

Magnus Andersen: Then??

Me: What else are you lying about?

My sanctuary of silence is disrupted as Avery’s voice blares through the house.

“Okay, we’re never taking Jeremiah to football practice again.”

Slipping my cell into the back pocket of my jeans, I pretend to be more focused on slaving away over dinner than texting Mr. Mysterious.

The messages are inconsistent and have no rhyme or reason. We both seem to be insanely busy and finding the time to have a decent conversation is becoming impossible. But every time I see his name on my screen, I can’t help but be intrigued.

I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t flirted in such a long time or if I am truly interested in the guy; either way, the little flutter that dances around in my stomach has me unabashedly addicted to the thought of something new.

“Babe, calm down.” Wes says, on her heels. “You’re over reacting.”

“Overreacting?” she shouts. Coming up next to me, I turn my head to see a furious Avery, an exasperated looking Wes and Jeremiah, looking between the two adults with a confused look on his innocent face.

Crouching down, I open my arms and J runs straight to me. Rubbing circles on his back, I whisper in his ear, “what did I miss?”

Pulling back he looks at me with concern, “Aunty Ave is mad. Like really, really mad.”

“Is that so?” I ask, stifling my laugh.

“I heard her say the f word in the car.” I narrow my eyes at my sister, disappointed in her efforts to reign in whatever is bothering her in front of J. “She also said she was going to teach Louis’ mom some manners, because she is Wes’ girlfriend now and it’s about damn time everyone knows.” The tone of his voice changes, mimicking an undoubtedly angry Avery.

“I wonder why Aunty Ave didn’t feel the need to talk to Wes about this in private?” Turning my gaze to both of them, I’m glad they both have the decency to look a little bit ashamed at their bickering. “It couldn’t wait?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“It’s not my fault all the women there look at him like they want to eat him for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” Avery sounds like a petulant child, and under any other circumstances I would be gossiping about those football moms right along with her.

Kissing Jeremiah on the nose, I loosen my grip and look him straight in the eyes. “Can you go into the living room and watch some TV please? I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Eagerly running away from the madness, Jeremiah disappears into the other room in no time.  

Standing upright, I fold my arms across my chest and switch from Lucy the mom, to Lucy the older sister. “I see you met the Boob Brigade?”

“Met them? I almost went Total Divas on their asses.” Biting my bottom lip, my eyes find Wes’ and we both try hard to contain our laughter. My mind is split in two, knowing very well how women react in Wes’ presence, but also enjoying my sister wearing her possessiveness on her sleeve. I never thought she would admit to having feelings for Wes, and seeing this side of her guarantees how deeply she feels for him.

“I couldn’t believe that one woman-”

“Louis’ mom,” I quip.

“Yes. Her. Touching his arms like I wasn’t standing right there.”

“You weren’t just standing right next to me,” Wes chuckles. “You were climbing me like a damn tree.” He slips his arms around her waist, blanketing her body with his. “I think we should go there more often. It drives me crazy when you get jealous like this.”

Her eyes close as her head rolls back onto his chest. She pushes back up against him, and that’s my cue to interrupt, “can we not f-u-c-k in my kitchen, thank you.”

They quickly stiffen, and let one another go. My request reminding them there is a time and a place for their x-rated public displays of affection, and within close proximity of Jeremiah isn’t one of them.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Avery asks.

“Do you guys mind setting up the table? The lasagna still has a while to cook, so I’m going to help J shower and clean up before we eat.”

* * *

During dinner Jeremiah and Wes give me the full rundown of what happened on the field at football practice. While in exchange I tell Wes and Avery about a few changes we all have to make now that mom’s physical therapy sessions are now in the afternoon and not in the morning.

The doctors initially agreed that there was no need for her to stay cooped up at the hospital and she could continue her recovery as an outpatient at a physical therapy rehab facility. The change of pace and people fit in well with her new routine, and has been very positive for her recovery. Avery and Wes agreed on sitting down some time this week and setting out a new weekly schedule to accomodate the time change, ensuring one of us is attentive to what’s taking place in mom’s life, daily. I’m eager for her to return to full mobility, but love that I’m able to have access to the ever changing nature of her condition. The house may be squashy for a while, but I prefer it this way, and I have a feeling Avery will move in with Wes soon. She’s always over his place and it seems like the perfect next step in their relationship.

“So, how long is grandma going to live here for?” Jeremiah asks

“As long as she wants. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course. Can I go to that place with you again? That place where grandma does her exercises?”

Nodding my head, I stand and begin to clear the table. “If it’s not school time, we can go.”

“When is it not school time?” He asks sternly.

“Tomorrow you will go to school and after school is finished it becomes not school time. And we can visit then.” Answering Jeremiah’s questions effectively shuts down the small talk and I’m grateful.

My phone has been consistently vibrating in my pocket, alerting me to the influx of messages I haven’t yet checked. Curious to read them, I decide I’ll put Jeremiah to sleep early and tell the lovebirds I’m calling it a night.

Finally able to have a few moments to myself I open the messages and find myself completely astounded by the possibility this guy thinks he can really pass of as the Magnus Andersen.

Magnus Andersen: I don’t lie

Me: And I’m supposed to take your word for it?

Me: I don’t know you.

Magnus Andersen: You could get to know me? That way you could see the truth for yourself.

Me: But I want answers now

Magnus Andersen: You just have to ask the right questions

Me: Okay, why is the infamous Magnus on Timber?

Magnus Andersen: I’m the face of it.

Me: and the body, and the smile, and the hair

Magnus Andersen: Have you been paying special attention to me?

Me: No, Magnus is just really hard to forget.

Magnus Andersen: You mean me? I’m really hard to forget.

I laugh out loud at his persistence, and another message comes through.

Magnus Anderson: Why are you on Timber?

Magnus Andersen: And don’t lie

Me: I never lie.

Magnus Andersen: Good to know, now tell me.

Chewing on my nails I sit in the empty room and wonder if it’s too soon to lay my cards on the table. I know it’s forward, but I don’t want to lie or lead someone on. It’s not my style, and I would hate for someone to do it to me. Trying to think of the best way to say what I want, I type and then delete the message a million times over. Fuck it. Honesty is the best policy, right?

Me: I’m just looking for fun. The sex only type of fun.