2. Twyla
CHAPTER 2
“Guess who went poopoo on the pottyyy!” Astrid sings in greeting as she opens her front door to let me in, and I glance from her bright, excited grin down to the dark-haired four-year-old with black-rimmed glasses that match my own. Her hazel eyes twinkle as she smiles at me, minus her father’s mischief, since she’s a little angel child who is never anything but sweet to her mommy.
I kneel right on the threshold and open my arms, and Luna runs into them, squeezing my neck tightly as I stand and pick her up. “You went all by yourself?” I ask her, my tone telling her how proud I am. She’s had constipation issues since she was a baby, so going number two has been quite the obstacle, even though she’s been potty trained since she was two.
She nods vigorously, her little baby-toothed smile making my heart clench. “Yes, Mama! And Uncle Neil got me popsicles after he saw the size of it. He said, ‘Good grief, Luna. That’s the size of a whole popsicle,’” she mimics in a deep voice. “And it made me want a popsicle, so he went and got me a whole box of them!”
I look over at my sister, trying to hide my slightly disgusted face from my daughter. Astrid reads the question in my eyes.
“Apparently, your husband likes to see what comes out of her so he can congratulate her on a job well done. Neil happened to walk by the bathroom just as she finished, so the next thing I knew, he was on FaceTime with Seth, showing him what was in the toilet.”
I groan as I put Luna back on her feet, finally stepping into the house and shutting the door behind me. I reach down and pet Scout, Neil and Astrid’s Australian Shepherd, who has come to greet me, as I tell my sister, “Oh, God. It’s spreading. It was cute at first, when it was just Seth. But then suddenly she started demanding I take pictures of it to send him when he’s at work if he doesn’t answer a FaceTime call. And now she’s getting you guys to do it too?”
Astrid gives me an evil grin. “You know kinks are hereditary, right? Our girl likes her praise… just like her mom and auntie!”
I smack her on the arm and shudder. “Stop it. She’s four.”
She holds her hands up. “Hey, don’t blame me. We can’t help we still love to be called a good girl. We just didn’t realize how… motivating it was when we were young too.”
“Gross.” I give her a face as mine flushes, then hang my purse on the coat tree in the foyer and follow her into the kitchen, seeing Luna head in the direction of the living room with Scout, where I hear an episode of Gabby’s Dollhouse playing from the TV. As I hike up one leg to sit on a barstool at the kitchen island, I sigh, slumping my upper half over the white marble.
“What’s the matter, little sis? You’ve seemed down the past couple of days. Everything all right?” Astrid asks, and I pull myself up to prop my head in my hand.
“I don’t know. It’s like… just a second ago. You so easily mentioned having a praise kink, as if that’s a normal thing to slip into a conversation. And yes, I’m your sister, and we talk about everything, so like… why do I still get all red and embarrassed about it? Shouldn’t I be immune to it by now?”
She waves her hand at me as she uses the other to open the refrigerator, as if to swat away my worries. “Oh, Twy. That’s nothing to be concerned about. It’s adorable that you still get all blushy over stuff like that. Your innocence is part of your charm.” When I don’t respond, she looks at me as she sets a variety of fresh fruits on the island between us, and her smile falls when she sees I have tears in my eyes. “Sis! What—? This is really concerning you?”
I swipe at the tears that spill when I shake my head, even though my mouth says, “I know it’s silly.”
Astrid hurries around the island and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down to squeeze my head to her chest. And like always, she’s the one to take my glasses off my face so she can tighten her grip, surrounding me in her familiar, comforting scent. I have no choice but to allow her T-shirt to absorb my tears and whatever might be coming out of my nose.
She’s the emotional one out of the two of us, and it’s a rare occasion that I actually cry. But ever since we were young, this was the position she always put me in, as if she wanted to smother my sadness away.
“It’s not silly, Twyla. None of your feelings are silly. Every single one of your emotions deserves validation, because you can’t help the way something makes you feel. It’s like a reflex. You don’t make yourself be sad. It just happens,” she states, and I can’t help but let out a little laugh.
“Is this what happens when you marry a therapist? You start sounding like one?” I ask her.
She squeezes me even tighter for a second before sitting me back up, her warm hands gripping my biceps for a moment to make sure I didn’t get dizzy and fall off the stool from the change in altitude. She hands me my glasses, and when I get them in place, she swipes my dark hair out of my face and smiles gently at me. “Maybe. But this reaction makes me think you might need the real deal. You want me to see if Neil is finished with his last telehealth appointment of the day?”
My eyes go wide. “No! Astrid, no. I don’t want to bother him. I don’t want to keep you guys from what you have planned for this evening. I was supposed to just swing by and grab Luna as always, then?—”
“We have zero plans for this evening. You are in no way a bother. And something made you come inside instead of hurrying home to start cooking dinner,” she shuts me down.
I give her a monotone, “Seth is working tonight, so I was just going to grab Luna and me some Cane’s. I really just wanted to see if you could help me figure out what to get him for his birthday.”
My sister’s face scrunches like it always does at the mention of fast food. “Do you know what those chickens’ lives were like before they were sacrificed and boiled in vats of artery-clogging oils and fats, all for you to dip them in little cups of sugar and preservatives to feed my sweet, innocent little angel of a niece?”
“But it’s okay for me?” I narrow my eyes.
“You don’t care about you. But you care about Luna. So if I guilt you about her, maybe you’ll actually listen and not fill either of your bodies with crap. You are what you eat, sis. You are what you eat,” she repeats, slicing into a cantaloupe on the counter.
“Hey! I care about me. Have you forgotten I was once on a team coming up with a new all-natural formula for all-purpose cleaner?”
She scoffs. “Yeah, while fueling that brilliant brain of yours with Mickey D’s and Weinerschnitzel.”
This coming from the girl I used to eat super-cheap heat-up pizzas with every night when we were in hiding and our savings was dwindling. But once she moved in with Doc a year before they actually got together and insisted on cooking all his meals when he wouldn’t let her pay rent, he’d get her whatever healthy and nutritious ingredients she needed from the grocery store. So long, Totinos.
I cross my arms and huff at her. “Then the Mickey D’s and Weinerschnitzel must not be too bad for me, since I was so ‘brilliant.’”
“Did someone say Weinerschnitzel?” comes Doc’s deep voice, and I look over to see his giant form enter the kitchen. “Man, that place had the best chili dogs. I haven’t had one of those since we went to Vegas to check out a BDSM club, when we were doing research for our own before it opened.”
Astrid beams at her husband. “So like… fifty years ago, my love?”
He swats her on the ass, even though he has to be used to her poking fun of their age difference by now. “Goddess, I’m only forty-six.”
She goes up on her tiptoes and puckers her lips, and he immediately obliges, but not because she still has the huge knife in her hand. He worships the ground my sister walks on, and I love that for her, especially since her ex never let her leave it, constantly beating her to the ground instead.
She lowers herself back on her bare feet and looks up at her man who’s easily a foot taller than her. “Will you cut up the pineapple for me, Viking?” she says in a soft but sultry voice that has my face heating once again, and I look away from them.
I know this is just the way they are together, always. They live in their D/s dynamic twenty-four seven, and it works beautifully for them. I’ve never seen Astrid so profoundly happy, and it’s all because of this man with the patience of a saint and the healing powers of some supernatural being from a fantasy book. And they were made for each other. He is, for lack of a better term, the Daddy Dom she’s always needed, who takes the reins and guides her to accomplish everything she’s always dreamed of. And she’s the bright light in every room, a gift to anyone fortunate enough to be in her presence, the reward Doc earned by being a real-life superhero to so many people. He’s her rock, calm but fiercely protective, and she brings life into his days when there wasn’t any before. He makes any space safe for her to shine. As long as he’s around, no one can dull her sparkle.
They’d be downright stupid to even try.
And that’s exactly what that part of me is worried about, seeing this perfectly matched couple before me.
I don’t think I’m that for Seth.
I don’t think we’re the type of opposites that complement each other, the way Doc and Astrid do.
Where Doc is Astrid’s rock and makes her feel safe to be herself, and then Astrid’s brightness has pulled Doc out of his shell—I feel like my shyness brings Seth down, and if the way I’m still so easily embarrassed is anything to go by, his extrovertedness hasn’t rubbed off on me.
When I realize the room has gone quiet, I look up at my sister and brother-in law and see they’re both staring at me with expressions of concern on their faces. Doc gives Astrid a nod, making me think she said something to him when I was spaced out, places a kiss on her forehead, and then rounds the island, holding his elbow out to me.
“Let’s step into my office, shall we?” he prompts, and my chin wobbles before I place my hand in the crook of his arm, and he helps me off the stool.