Epilogue
Five Years Later…
I’m stirring the potatoes I have boiling when the front door opens. “Baby, I’m home!”
“I’m in the kitchen!”
Drexel comes in and wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing my neck over my mating mark like always. “Something smells good. Whatcha got cookin’?”
“Your favorite. Steak and potatoes.”
An indignant baby squeal comes from behind us, and Drexel turns to our three-month-old son, who’s in his bouncy seat on the island, and says in a baby-talk voice, “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t greet our little Toby-tobe right away.”
Drexel unsnaps the buckles and picks him up, nuzzling his nose into Tobias’s inky-black hair as he cradles him close. “How’s my little man today? Have you been good for Daddy?”
Goddamn, he looks good holding a baby. If I were a woman with ovaries, they’d be singing right now in demand for another. Moving from the stove, I put my arm around Drexel’s waist and lean against him. “He’s been great. There’s not much trouble a three-month-old can get into.”
As soon as I say that, Toby scrunches up his face and lets out the loudest wettest-sounding fart I’ve ever heard. Drexel looks at me, horrified, and says, “Houston, we have a problem.” It’s then that the smell hits me, and I gag.
“I think somebody needs a new diaper.”
Drexel, still looking horrified, says, “That’s not all he needs. I can feel it on my sleeve.”
Barking out a laugh, I say, “Welcome to fatherhood, babe. Take him to the bathroom, and get in the shower with him. I’ll be right there to help you clean up after I strain these potatoes.”
With a nod, he pecks a quick kiss to my lips and heads up the stairs.
I turn back to the stove and quickly move the strainer from the pot to the sink.
Drexel bought me a pot that has a strainer that sits in it since he knows how much I love pasta, and it’s changed my life.
When we had the house built, he made sure they installed a pot-filler faucet over the stove for me.
I didn’t really need it since I have no problem carrying pots of water from the sink, but I love that he thought about how to make things easier for me when it comes to cooking.
Don’t get me wrong, Drexel knows how to cook just fine, but since I’m the one with the set schedule I do most of the cooking.
The house itself took a year to build. It’s got six bedrooms and four bathrooms, plus an office Drexel and I share, and a theater room.
The living area and kitchen have an open floor plan with big picture windows so I can have an uninhibited view of the yard from all angles for when Tobias and any other kids we have are out there playing while I’m inside.
Leaving the strainer in the sink, I make my way upstairs.
I find Drexel in our bathroom, asking Toby, “What did you eat today, little man? Your booty is rank” as he takes off the onesie Toby has on.
He’s already taken off his own shirt and laid it on the counter under Toby.
I don’t know how he did that without putting Toby down.
The shower is already running, so I reach in and take the handheld showerhead down.
Drexel asks, “What do you want me to do with the diaper, baby?”
“Just leave it there. I’ll throw it away after we get you both clean. Do you want me to try washing the clothes or toss them too?”
“You can toss my shirt. It’s one of the ones that needs to be dry cleaned, and I’m not taking it to them with shit on it. I know they’ve seen everything there is to see, but I draw the line there.”
“What about Tobias’s onesie?”
“Honestly? I’d toss it too. It’s not like he doesn’t have more than he’ll ever wear before he outgrows them.
” He’s right about that. Not only did our mothers go overboard, but so did the entire pack.
We’re lucky we decided on having spacious closets for all the bedrooms, otherwise we wouldn’t have had space for everything.
Let’s hope the next one we have is a boy, too, because if it’s a girl, I have a feeling she’s going to need two closets.
We want our children to be close in age, so once Tobias is six months old, we’re going to use the same surrogate but with my sperm this time.
I can’t wait. After helping Drexel and Tobias wash off, and throwing the soiled clothes away with the diaper, I go back downstairs to finish cooking dinner.
By the time Drexel comes back in clean clothes with Tobias in a new onesie, I’m taking the steaks off the grill pan.
Drexel puts Tobias back in his bouncer and goes to make him a bottle since it’s almost time for him to eat again. I plate up the food, then carry the plates over to the island. We have a dining table, but sometimes it’s easier to eat at the island, especially when one of us has to feed Tobias.
Setting the plates down, I return for silverware and Drexel’s birthday present I stashed in the back of the cabinet we keep the cleaning supplies in. As soon as we sit down to eat, I pass the present to him.
He sets Tobias’s bottle down and takes the box, tugging on the bow, so it unravels. “What’s this?”
“Happy birthday, babe.”
With a smile, he opens the box and pulls out the coffee mug. As soon as he sees what’s on the front of it, he bursts out laughing. “How’d you manage this?”
“I found someone online to draw a custom character and had a printing place put it on the mug.”
The design is of a piece of steak crying as a mini bottle of ranch is poured over it and says, “No! Don’t drown me in ranch! I’m not a masochist!”
“You’re never going to let me forget that conversation, are you?”
“Not a chance, babe.”
He sets the cup aside and says, “You should see the one the guys at the precinct got me. It says, ‘Bye Bye, Double-D’ on one side and ‘World’s Okayest DM’ on the other.”
My brow wrinkles in confusion. “I don’t get it.”
Tobias lets out his pterodactyl-like feed-me-now screech, and Drexel pulls the bouncy seat toward him so he can feed him. While Tobias is eating, he explains, “Remember when I dressed in drag for the precinct Halloween party after I made detective?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, with the fake boobs and my initials being DD, they started calling me Double-D. So, when we got married and I changed my last name to yours, it became DM.”
I snort and shake my head, then start cutting up his steak so he can eat with one hand while he feeds Tobias. “It’s like a frat house.”
Drexel laughs. “You’re right about that.”
When I finish, I pass his plate to him. He picks up his fork and winks at me. “Thanks, baby.”
Leaning over the island, I kiss him and say, “You’re welcome,” then begin cutting up my own food.
Later, after all the food’s been eaten, the dishes are done, and Tobias has been put to bed for the night, I join Drexel in the bedroom so I can give him his other birthday present.
I picked up a robber outfit from the adult toy store that opened in town on my way home.
We’ve never tried role-play before, but I read a steamy book recently that made me want to give it a shot.
Heading into the closet, I say, “I’ll be right out, babe,” and close the door behind me.
Walking to the back, I pull out the bag I hid behind our shoe rack and take out the outfit.
Stripping out of my clothes, I put on the black turtleneck and cargo pants.
Then I don the leather gloves that have holes over the knuckles and an opening that shows the back of my hand, and the ski mask that came with it.
Finally ready, I open the closet door, put one hand on the jamb above my head, and strike a pose.
“Excuse me, Officer, I’ve been a bad boy.”
Drexel starts laughing and says, “You’re crazy, but I love you.”
Sashaying over to him, I put a hand on his chest and tell him, “That’s not what you’re supposed to say, Officer.”
Drexel’s eyes heat, and he pulls a pair of black furry handcuffs out of the nightstand. Clipping one side around my wrist, he says, “You’re under arrest.”
The End