Page 50 of The Lucky List
Once the dishes are put up, I wipe down the counters, taking extra time to clean some sticky syrup puddles off the kitchen table. I’m scrubbing furiously, moving my hand back and forth, putting as much elbow grease as I can into it. “Feckin’ hell, this fecker is a tough one to rub out.”
“Oh my God, what are you doing?”
Lucy’s voice startles me, and I whip around, sponge in hand.
“Oh shit, you’re scrubbing the table,” she says, sounding relieved as she places a hand on her chest. I watch as her tits heave in her shirt.
“There was dried syrup. What did you think I was doing?”
“Well, you had your back to me, your arm was moving in a repetitive motion, and you were mumbling about rubbing one out.” She makes a jacking gesture with her hand in front of her crotch.
“Jesus Christ.” I drop the sponge and put my hands up in defense.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says as she breaks out into a fit of laughter, the sound warming me from the inside out.
I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around her as I pull her into my chest. She comes willingly for once but goes rigid when her gaze swings to the living room.
“Where are all the toys?”
“I put as many as I could in that bin, but the vehicles that wouldn’t fit are lined up next to it.”
She looks at the sink. “And the dishes?”
“Washed and put away. I think I found where they all go, but apologies if you can’t find something tomorrow.”
She places her hands on my chest and pushes me back, taking in the rest of the kitchen. “Did you clean and wipe down my counters too?”
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly feeling like I fucked up. “Aye.”
Two beautiful emerald eyes fix on mine, and I feel like I can finally exhale. The sadness is gone in her pupils, and she steps closer. I grip her hips, pulling her flush with me. She looks at me with so much longing, and I revel in it, relieved to see her peel back some of her armor.
When her eyes linger on my lips, I lean down, slowly going in for the kiss I’ve been dying to take since the day I met her.
“New rule,” she says, her voice soft and breathy.
“What’s that?” I ask, inching closer.
“No kissing.”
I pause, hovering inches from her mouth. “Then you better stop looking at my lips like you want to devour them.”
She untangles herself from my arms and takes a step back, leaning against the counter. “Why?” she asks, looking around the rest of the kitchen.
“You ask that question more than Levi does,” I tease.
A small smile lights up her face as her mouth drops open in mock indignation. “You take that back.”
“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone would want to spend time with ya?”
“In case it wasn’t obvious, men aren’t exactly lining up at my door to take me out. And the ones that might be interested, well, my kids scare them off real quick. I come with a harsh dose of reality in the form of two energetic, wonderful little boys, and they’re a lot for people to tolerate. Not even my dad treats them like they deserve. And if they don’t scare someone off, my baggage usually does.”
“The right person won’t merely tolerate them, you know that, right? Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places for these guys.”
“I’m not looking, period. I don’t want my boys to get attached to someone that isn’t going to stick around. I know I have a lot of baggage, and I haven’t felt the same in my body since I became a mom. My clothes are too tight, I carry weight in new places, and the intrusive thoughts in my head are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. When I’m not worrying about fucking my kids up for life, I’m thinking about what an awful mother I am, how I’m not good enough, how I have no clue what I’m doing when everyone else seems to have figured it out, and how I’m too afraid to ask for help out of fear that I’ll be seen for the fraud that I am.”
There’s no truth I can offer her that she’d accept right now, so I tug her against me and give her a hug, squeezing tight. She fights me at first but gradually relaxes in my arms.
“What are you doing?”
