Epilogue
November
“Nash, you have to go.”
“Uh-uh, I’ve got—” He lifted his head to peer at the clock. “Five more minutes.”
“You had five minutes ten minutes ago.” Bailey planted her hand on his forehead and pushed. He didn’t budge. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell your mother why you were late.”
“I don’t care,” he mumbled around her nipple.
“At Thanksgiving,” she added.
He released her nipple to frown down at her. “That’s just mean.”
“Whatever works. Let me up, I have to go hose out my vagina.”
“What?” Genuinely perplexed, he frowned. “Why?”
“Because I want a bath in the soaking tub tonight, and Gwen will be annoyed if I leak jizz everywhere on her birthday.”
“Oh. Yeah, she will.” Obligingly, he rolled off her. “How’s she doing?”
“I haven’t seen her much lately,” Bailey admitted, “but Chloe says she seems happier at work, more relaxed.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Mmm.” Content to lie there for a moment, she watched him climb to his feet and reach his arms up in a long stretch. “She’s been anxious about something for months, but she won’t talk about it.”
He lowered his arms with a satisfied grunt. “Maybe she’ll talk about it tonight.”
“Doubt it. Gwen doesn’t talk unless she doesn’t have a choice.”
He yawned and scratched his balls. “What time am I meeting you for brunch tomorrow again?”
“Not before eleven.” Snagging his T-shirt, she wedged it between her thighs for the walk to the bathroom. “And remember, if you show up before then, I get to color your hair.”
He frowned. “I don’t think that deal is legal. I agreed to it under duress.”
She snorted. “Sue me. Then you can explain to a judge exactly what that ‘duress’ entailed.”
“No, thank you.” Crossing to the dresser, he grabbed a new T-shirt. “My mom’s going to be disappointed you’re not there tonight.”
Standing, she rolled her eyes. “She’ll be relieved to have you all to herself for once.”
“I’m telling you, she likes you now.”
“It’s times like these I wish I wore glasses,” Bailey mused, “so I could tip them down and stare at you over them in a who do you think you’re kidding librarian kind of way.”
“Okay, maybe she doesn’t like you,” Nash conceded, pulling on his jeans. “But she likes that you love me and make me happy.”
She mimed pulling a pair of glasses down her nose.
“Okay, she still thinks you’re a devil harlot who’s leading her precious baby boy astray.”
“There it is.”
“But my gran likes you.”
“Your gran’s a hoot,” Bailey admitted. “Remind me to sit next to her at Thanksgiving.”
Nash reached into the closet for shoes. “Only if you promise not to slip her any booze this time. We do not want a repeat of Labor Day.”
“There won’t be.”
“You promise?”
“Sure, as long as your family doesn’t set off fireworks at Thanksgiving.”
“You’re a bad influence,” he accused.
“How am I a bad influence?”
He pointed a shoe at her. “You’re standing there naked, clearly tempting me to stay and fuck you again, when I was supposed to leave for dinner at my mother’s fifteen minutes ago.”
Bailey scoffed. “Standing here naked is not how I would tempt you to do such a thing.”
“No?”
She sniffed. “Of course not. If I wanted you to stay here and fuck me instead of going to dinner at your mother’s, I’d do something like this.”
Dropping the now come-soaked T-shirt to the floor, she climbed back on the bed, spread her legs, and dipped her fingers into her pussy.
Eyes locked between her thighs, he nodded. “I stand corrected.”
“Good. I hope there will be no more of these unfortunate misunderstandings.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, and tossing his shoes over his shoulder, leapt on the bed to the sound of her laughter.
He was late. His mother was mad. Neither of them cared.