Chapter 23 Miller - Yes, ma’am #2
Her hair falls down her back in waves. It’s perfectly in place, as if neither of us moved all night, afraid we might separate for even a second throughout the night. Her breaths are shallow and even, still sound asleep.
I try to move as little as possible to reach for my phone on the nightstand.
I pull up the group text Melanie and Beth threw me in last night to see a message delivered about an hour ago.
I wince when I realize Penelope must have woken up no later than six.
Hopefully Melanie and Beth are still used to small early risers.
Melanie
Good morning, Daddy! Penelope slept snug as a bug in a rug. She’s making pancakes with Grandma Beth right now. No rush, talk soon! Xo
My heart rattles when I look at the picture attached to the text.
Penelope’s on a stepstool against Beth’s kitchen counter, the small chef hat on her head and an apron tied around her.
There’s an S embroidered on the front, telling me this thing is Sawyer’s from when he was young.
She still has her nightgown on, smiling so big with a wooden spoon in her hand over the mixing bowl filled with enough batter to make at least a couple dozen pancakes.
The thing I notice above all is how happy Penelope looks.
She’s beaming with her cheek pressed right up against Beth’s for the picture Melanie must have had them pose for mid-mix.
I feel a rush of guilt for keeping her all to myself for so long when she could have had a group of people to love her just as much as I do.
I made my decisions out of fear. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping us closed off, never giving either of us the opportunity for something more.
I type out a quick reply, telling Melanie to have P call me whenever she wants, and that I’d be by shortly. I snap a picture of Gwen, too. I don’t want to forget what she looks like in this moment.
Laying in the quiet of the early morning isn’t something I’m used to. I can hear the rustling of the trees outside and the faint sound of someone walking their dog. Gwen stirs, and I keep running my hand up and down her back, wanting her to sleep as long as she needs.
The arm that lays snug under my shirt moves and her hand starts to slowly roam the span of my chest and then further down. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet when one finger slips under the waistband of my boxers.
“Waking up to Miller Caswell in my bed? I kind of like the idea of this,” Gwen says with the most gravely voice that shoots right to my cock.
“Y-you and me both,” I stutter.
Her hand continues its journey further down until she starts to lazily stroke me. I pull her face to mine to kiss her deeply, ignoring any self doubt because as long as this woman wants me, I’m here.
“You know, normally I just take care of myself in the morning,” Gwen whispers. “Sometimes I use my fingers, sometimes one of the toys I have in that nightstand there…”
“Fuck me,” I sigh.
“You’d like that, huh, Miller, baby?” That sinfully playful voice in my ear will be the death of me.
She slides precum along my shaft and picks up her pace. The grip I tighten on her ass right now could very well leave a mark. The thought of that drives me insane.
“Oh my God,” I groan.
Gwen continues to stroke me, and I think about how I’ve never had a better morning in my entire life.
One of our phones start to vibrate, rattling on the nightstand that apparently contains toys of Gwen’s–toys I’m going to need her to show and tell with the class pretty fucking soon now that she’s mentioned it. The class is me.
I feel the loss of Gwen’s touch immediately. I almost whine like a toddler, but then see her reaching for my phone.
“I just want to make sure it’s not P,” she says.
Shoot me dead. This woman can have me worked all the fucking way up one minute, and the next be prioritizing my kid without a second thought.
“This bitch.” Gwen slides her finger across the screen to answer the call, and I know the only person this could be even before hearing her voice on the other end. “Someone or something better be on fucking fire, Margot Dorothea.”
The maniacal laugh that comes through the speaker ruins any chance of finishing what Gwen started.
“Payback, my love,” Margot finally says. “Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving. Wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. Sounds like you’re good. My mom already texted Miller, but pancakes are hot if you guys want ‘em. Sawyer and I are about to head over. Beth’s already started on the turkey.”
“You’re evil. You know that?” Gwen responds.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get your ass to the riverside. Or don’t!” The call ends.
“I feel like that could have been a text,” I exhale.
“It could have been. But then it wouldn’t have been fun for her,” Gwen tells me. She tosses the phone on the nightstand and throws herself back into the mattress, grabbing the comforter to pull over her face.
“I don’t think I understand female friendships,” I admit.
Gwen throws the comforter back down, sits up against the headboard, and runs her hands through her hair. “Eh, you don’t have to. I cockblocked her. She cockblocks me. It’s all love.” She shrugs her shoulders, and I sit up next to her.
“Good morning, by the way.” I lean over to kiss her again. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of kissing her.
“Morning,” she says with a sleepy smile. “I don’t know about you, but I slept like the dead.”
“I can honestly say it was the best night of sleep of my life,” I tell her.
“I know this is a big deal, and I’m cool with whatever you decide, however you want to handle this, but you’re welcome to stay here whenever.
Penelope, too, of course. I have three empty bedrooms waiting for someone to use them.
And it doesn’t have to be right now! Or ever! But I like you, and I like this and—”
I shouldn’t take this much joy in seeing Gwen completely flustered like this, but I do. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one here struggling to keep my cool all of the time.
“Gwennie girl, hold on,” I stop her and open my arms until she shuffles back into them.
“I’d love that. And Penelope would, too.
I know it’s a big deal. But it’s a conversation we need to have.
Do I know what that kind of conversation looks like or how I’m supposed to handle things?
No. Not even a little bit. But if there was any reason to figure it out, it’d be you. ”
“Me,” she says to herself.
“You’re worth the biggest of deals, Gwen.”
“Oh.” Gwen keeps her focus down, so I can’t read her face, and I start to worry I said the wrong thing.
“Well, let’s uh, let’s start with pancakes.
Then we have to get through Thanksgiving dinner and then, yeah.
Let’s…let’s figure this out. Together.” She toys with the ring on my pinky and looks up at me.
Her eyes show nerves that I know match mine, but there’s joy there, too. She doesn’t need to voice it, but it’s the joy in tackling something with someone. I know, because I feel it, too.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer before my lips find hers.