â€œAnything you havenâ€™t thought of?â€
He puts his fingers to his temple, thinking it over for a minute. â€œUm, Daddy mentioned something about sucking.â€ My eyes go wide at his comment, mentally berating my husband, but Tre nonchalantly raises his shoulder in a shrug. â€œMaybe he got us lollipops or popsicles as a treat.â€
â€œJunior,â€ I call out bitingly, trying to gauge where he is. Addressing Tre, I tell him, â€œGo watch a show while I talk to Daddy and get ready.â€ He scoots off, not having to be told twice to sit and enjoy a TV show. â€œHey, where you at?â€ In the kitchen, I find a picnic basket all ready to go. A sweet gesture, for sure. Which reminds me, I have to text Luke and ask to borrow his truck.
â€œYou beckoned?â€ Juniorâ€™s voice bellows, as he comes in from the living room. I put aside the fact that heâ€™s in gray sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt. And his stupid backwards hat. For the moment, at least.
â€œYou made mention of â€˜suckingâ€™ to our son. What the hell, Junior?â€ I swat at his arms angrily, then realize that was dumb on my part. Bicep muscles. Juniorâ€™s got big ones.
â€œIt kinda slipped out.â€
â€œRight. How did that conversation go again?â€ Do not look directly at his face, Emmy. Be strong. Resist his charm. I fail, miserably, at following my own directions. â€œNever mind. I have to go get ready for the game. Hope you have some suckers for your son for a treat since now heâ€™s expecting some.â€
Making my way upstairs, the man follows me. This is what he does, distraction at its finest. I do my best to ignore him, the way he looks, the way he smells, as I start taking off my clothes so I can change into jeans and my football hoodie.
â€œI was talking to myself, and he overheard me. All I said was, â€˜Emmy better get her suck on tonight.â€™ He didnâ€™t get it.â€
I canâ€™t look at him, lest Iâ€™ll be more distracted and Iâ€™m on a time crunch, so I canâ€™t assess fully whether heâ€™s telling the truth or not. Most likely he is; he does talk to himself quite a bit, sharing his innermost thoughts, which are always of a sexual nature. It weirded me out the first time I heard him do it, but as I got used to it, it just became one of his quirks I (mostly) adore. Except when he does it in front of the kids.
When his words sink in, I realize exactly what he said. Turning on my heels, I demand, â€œWhoa, why do I have to get my suck on tonight? Like I owe you for something?â€
Damn him. Foiling my need to get changed with his words. As if thatâ€™s not enough, he stalks closer, one slow step at a time. I try to signal him to stop with my eyes, shooting daggers his way; however, heâ€™s undeterred, ignoring the shade Iâ€™m throwing him.
My hands land on my hips, standing my ground. Ahem, attempting to stand my ground and ward off his advances. I have a game I need to get ready for, and this little interruption is hindering that. Plus, no clue where my daughter actually is.
â€œWhereâ€™s your daughter? House is awfully quiet.â€ I intend for my words to halt his movements, but the man multi-tasks so well. Usually, Iâ€™m appreciative of it except in times like this when he uses it against me.
Spinning me around, he answers, â€œSheâ€™s playing in the playroom.â€
I go to respond, something about how he knows sheâ€™ll still be there when he goes back to check on her, but every coherent thought leaves my brain. I want to blame it on pregnancy brain, and not for the kisses my very sexy husband trails down my neck. The most I can manage is a breathy, â€œJunior.â€ Stupidly, my body begins to fall back, leaning on Junior for support, as my pulse quickens, my body betraying my mind.
â€œHow about you get your suck on before the game?â€
My eyes fly open at his words, finally breaking through and putting a stop to his attempts at seduction. I pull myself out of his reach, much to his chagrin, and lock myself in the bathroom to finish getting ready.
â€œSo, thatâ€™s a no for right now?â€ he calls through the door.
â€œCorrect. But maybe if you let me get ready, Iâ€™ll get it on tonight. You did pack that awesome picnic dinner for us and all,â€ I coo back to him.