5. #3
“Or you could go downstairs in your heels, wow him with how hot you look, and then convince him to rub your feet while you soak in the tub after four orgasms,” Brooklyn suggested.
“Four?” my sister asked. “Did you just throw out a random number, or is there proof that’s a possibility?”
“Petra, sweetheart, it’s not like that every single time, but it can easily be a reality if you’re with the right man,” Emerald explained.
“I wouldn’t say it’s easy, but it’s possible,” Leia argued.
“Yeah, it is,” Holly boasted with a grin.
“It was a hot-as-hell one-night stand. The most important word in that description is “one.” Uno. Ett. Eins. In case you’re not fluent in German, Swedish, or Spanish, that means one. As in the single digit that is less than two.”
“Don’t act like you’re multilingual, smartass. Just because you can count to ten in five languages doesn’t make you fluent,” Petra snapped.
“That’s only four,” Brooklyn pointed out.
“She forgot to list Pig Latin,” I told my friend with a grin.
“Good grief. All of you are certifiable,” Emerald muttered, busying herself with something off-screen. Finally, she looked back. “There. It’s fixed. Now go find your father and make him crazy for a few minutes while I talk to your aunties.”
“How’s the sweetheart doing?” I asked Emerald.
“She’s having a very Forrester day.” Emerald didn’t need to explain because we all knew how wild the Forrester children could be. She did, however, offer a hint. “How do you get black marker off ceiling paint?”
“How did she get it on the ceiling?” Petra asked.
“Is there a difference between wall paint and ceiling paint?” Leia asked.
“Yes, a huge difference,” Holly answered. “And, Em, there’s no way to get it off. You’ll have to prime it a few times and repaint.”
“Luckily, Adam has all the supplies for that sort of thing, and since she’s his child, he can take care of it.”
“Today she’s his child, huh?” I asked with a grin.
“When she’s a sleeping angel, she’s mine. When she’s awake, she’s all Forrester.”
“Is no one else curious about how the spawn drew on the ceiling?” Petra demanded. “She’s only two, people!”
“Let me guess. She watched the guys playing darts and decided to recreate the game with a Sharpie,” Lexi said.
“Not even close,” Emerald answered. A piercing scream echoed from somewhere in Emerald’s house. She closed her eyes, took a calming breath, and said, “She scaled the refrigerator and used a dry-erase marker to tag the ceiling.”
“That makes sense,” Holly commiserated.
“It doesn’t make sense at all,” Petra argued. “How did she learn to . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “Forget I said anything. It’s genetics.”
“It took her less than ten seconds. I took her cup from her, rinsed it out to refill it, and when I turned around, she was gone.”
“Oh, shit,” Lexi whispered.
“She giggled like Joshua does, and that’s when I spotted her sitting on top of the fridge,” Emerald said. She sighed again. “She realized she was in trouble, ditched the marker, and then used the rails like a firehouse pole to slide down so she could run.”
“Is Adam in the kitchen trying to figure out how to prevent that from happening again?”
Emerald shook her head. “We agreed there’s no point.”
“Why not?”
“Aunt Summer had the same problem when the birdbrains were small. She tried everything and finally gave up. From then on, she only stored healthy snacks above the refrigerator, because once they learned they could get up there, she was never able to stop them.”
“I’m so glad my children are normal,” I announced.
“Parker had to be rescued from at least half a dozen cliffs and trees before he turned five,” Emerald reminded me.
“That high horse just bucked you off,” Leia cackled.
“Will all of you shut up so I can take a nap?”
“You are not taking a nap, Jewel. You’re going to shower, landscape the lady garden, and have a nice dinner before you have hotel sex that’s loud enough to bring the management up with police officers because they think someone is getting killed in your suite,” Brooklyn informed me.
“Doesn’t Constance’s family own that hotel?” Emerald asked. When I nodded, she said, “At least we know they won’t get the cops involved.”
“You hags aren’t going to leave me alone about this, are you?” I asked in resignation.
“Nope!” they all said in unison, including Brooklyn, still lying beside me.
“Fine. Stop bothering me so I can get in the shower.”
“We’ll meet back here tomorrow morning–no, afternoon–for details,” Lexi ordered.
“See you then!” Brooklyn said before everyone rang off. She set her phone on her stomach.
“You just had to get them involved, didn’t you?”
“I was going to have to anyway because you wouldn’t listen to me, so I skipped a few steps and made the call.”
“I don’t like you at all.”
Brooklyn sat up, planted her feet on the floor, then turned to me with a grin. “You say that now, but imagine how torturous it’s going to be for me to listen to the story of your wild night from the other side of that doorway.”
“I do like torturing people, especially the ones I hate.”