Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Roxy
“I think you made an enemy today,” Harper giggles as she nods her head in Weston’s direction. He has a scowl on his face, and anytime he looks my way he squints his eyes into narrowed slits.
“Neither one of us has ever been a fan of shopping trips. It just so happened that every store we hit was sold out of what Canyon wanted. On top of that, he had an upset stomach and spent more time in the restrooms than in the stores themselves,” I snicker, remembering how green he looked whenever I wanted to stop at a different retailer and check out what they had. “But we got everything on our list so we won’t have to go back out.”
Laney chortles when Weston releases a disgruntled snarl, tossing the piece of shit tool they package along with all of the bolts and washers to the side, before wrinkling the directions in his hand with a grunt. He’s been trying to put the entertainment center together for the last past hour without any success.
“It’d be nice if the instructions they provide were written in English,” he complains.
“They are,” I apprise him. “Turn the manual over, they're on the other side.”
“Motherfucker!” he barks, his face contorting into a malign sneer. “How long have you known that? Have you been sitting over there watching me scramble, all the while, knowing it’s because I needed to turn the damn booklet over?”
“Yes,” I tell him without shame, sending him an impish wink. “I thought you’d be all manly and beat your chest if I told you.”
“Asshole,” he mutters, his timbre lighthearted. “I wouldn’t have beat my chest, just so you know.”
“I thought men didn’t like using directions,” Selah antagonizes. “Doesn’t that go against the man code or something?”
“Or something,” he returns, wheeling the directions around, slapping them on the ground, and facing them upward so he can see them. “Okay, now that makes sense.”
I duck my head so he can’t see how funny I find this entire thing. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him find the right part, piece it together, and bob his head in satisfaction.
“Now you’re cooking with oil,” Harper says, praising him in the same tone I’ve heard her use on Selah’s daughters. “Good job, Saber.”
I lean over and whisper in Harper’s ear, “The phrase is now you’re cooking with gas, not oil.” She looks at me wide-eyed as I nod, before she bursts into laughter at her faux pas.
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” he replies, using the worst Elvis imitation I’ve ever heard in my life.
“I wouldn’t advise you to quit your day job and take up impersonations,” Laney giggles. “That was horrible!”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Weston argues. “I thought you ladies were going to hang the kids' clothes in their closets and put other shit away from their boxes. What are y’all doing in here instead of being in their bedrooms?”
“You’re more entertaining than emptying boxes is,” I reply, blowing him an air kiss. “Besides, the new clothes have to be washed first. Didn’t you know that? It has something to do with the dyes that’re used now. We got the first load started.” Even though new clothes weren’t on their list since they wanted their wardrobe from their parents' place, we decided to use what they did have as a template for what to buy and add to what they already had.
We wanted them to have some new clothes for their new beginning.
He rolls his eyes at my commentary then throws the cardboard box that had the parts inside of in my direction. “Get to work, woman. This shit won’t build itself nor put itself away.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I return, circling my wrist through the air with a wave. “Come on, ladies. Let’s stop making fun of my man and get the kids’ rooms put together. That way, sometime in the next year when he finishes that, he can start on their furniture.”
Since we have the majority of their other clothes from their home, we can put those away, then find something else to get into while the laundry keeps going. We’ve already got the kitchen squared away, since outside of what was brought from my apartment, everything else was new and had to be washed. Good thing I bought dishwasher soap in the jumbo container.
“The women are full of jokes today,” he mumbles as we stand up off the floor and head down the hallway.
We ended up calling in the forces, because if we’d left it up to Weston to do it all on his own, the kids would be here living with us before their furniture was assembled. As it stands, we won’t go before the judge for the adoption until after our wedding and we wrap up the classes we need in order to finalize the paperwork.
Every evening, we’ve met with one social worker or another, and our home study will be scheduled next week. We’re on the fast track program with the agency since there are extenuating circumstances surrounding Canyon and Egypt’s adoption. It’s not a common occurrence and only happens when families meet certain requirements.
We just so happen to meet the conditions for our case to be expedited.
For the first couple of months, it’ll be a lot like the fostering program and if everything works out, and we don’t hit any complications, in the next six months, the kids will be carrying the same last name as Weston and I do. It’s both exhilarating and frightening at the same time, at least to me, but my man just keeps moving forward as if everything is a foregone conclusion.
Weston and I fall into bed, both of us exhausted. “I’m glad the guys came to help,” he tells me. “But I’m even happier that they’re gone.”
“I love every single one of your brothers and their women, but they were more tiring than the heavy lifting was,” I joke. “And they eat… a lot.”
“Hey, we were burning a lot of calories. I swear you couldn’t seem to make up your mind about where everything went. I moved Egypt’s damn dresser ten times.”
“It wasn’t ten times, you goof,” I rebut, bitchslapping him across the pecs with the back of my hand. “Her room was cramped with the first couple of arrangements, and I wanted her to have more space so she can spread out if she wants to.”
“You’d be better off giving her the master bedroom if you wanted that, Foxy. This is a mobile home, baby. The bedrooms barely have enough square footage for a bed, dresser, and a desk let alone empty space in the middle.”
“I’m just happy you guys found studs in the walls so the kids’ televisions could be hung on the walls,” I convey. “What are we going to do with the two extra entertainment centers anyway?”
“We can put them in the community storage facility for the brothers and their families, or we can donate them to the charity center for people that may need them in their homes. Either way, I’m not breaking them down so they’re going as is.”
“You did good,” I compliment him. “You had all five of them assembled before the battalion was called in to help with constructing the bedroom and living room furniture. I’m proud of you, you didn’t let the instructions beat you.”
“Smartass,” he laughs good-naturedly, pinching my side. “I’m not a construction worker; my hands are made for saving lives not installation jobs.”
“I know something else you could do with those hands if you aren’t too tired,” I tease, fluttering my eyelashes.
“I’m never too tired for that,” he claims, rolling over and claiming my lips. “Love you, Foxy Roxy.”
“Love you too, Weston,” I moan, arching my back as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth at the same time his hand moves inside of my panties, his thumb thrumming my clit as two digits slither inside of me and begin pumping in and out. “Fuck.”
“That’s next,” he whispers. “You ready for me, baby?”
“Always and forever,” I breathlessly reply.
He slides the lining of my panties to the side and slips inside of me. It’s a quick, raw and rough coupling, and I enjoy every damn minute of it.
Two weeks later, I find myself standing in front of the mirror in the main clubhouse. I’m in my wedding attire and there’s only half an hour left until I’m walking down the aisle and uniting myself and my future to Weston. This day has been a long time in the making. Life threw us a few twists and turns along the way, but we managed to work our way through and overcame it all.
“You look beautiful,” Egypt tells me as she sits in the corner of the room, watching Laney put on the finishing touches of my makeup.
“Thank you. You look beautiful too,” I tell her. “Do you like your new dress?”
“I love it. It’s not scratchy like the last dress I had to wear to a wedding,” she says, her nose scrunched up as she recalls that day. “It’s not frilly either.”
“Not a fan of the frill, huh?” I ask.
“Eww, no,” she exclaims, making me giggle. It’s almost as though once she decided to give me and Weston a chance, the little girl she still is made an appearance. I know we’ll face those hormonal challenges, probably sooner than I want, but Jillian’s got a teenage daughter so I have an ally in her when things become challenging with respect to Egypt’s attitude.
I find I’m always quizzing her on things she likes or dislikes. I’ve gotten to know her well over the last couple of weeks. Weston and I decided to be an open book with them and told them about our childhood up until now. Needless to say, Canyon was not a fan over the fact that we separated because of him. It took a few days for us to convince him that it wasn’t his fault and that we allowed ourselves to get there by not communicating. We promised him we were in a good, solid place now, and no matter what fights we get into in the future, we would always discuss it and work it out. We’ll never leave the other one again, no matter what. That seemed to placate him and he started opening up to us too, and after telling us that he blamed himself for his parents’ death, we joined him in his counseling session, wanting to understand why he felt that way.
We still don’t have the full story on why that is, I’m hoping one day he’s comfortable enough with one of us to share the reason he feels this way.
Half an hour later, on the dot, I’ve been primped and beautified, now, I’m ready to walk down the aisle to the man who is my forever.