“Yes.”
And so I do, moaning at the way she opens her mouth for me, at how she tangles her fingers in my hair, at how her hips rise up to meet mine even though she just came apart on my tongue.
“Can I?—”
“Here.” Lara rolls over, digging in her nightstand and producing a condom, her hands shaking as she tries to open it. When her eyes catch mine, she giggles. “A gift from Zachery — an entire pack of condoms. I haven’t used any of them.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I tried,” she says, swallowing, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I tried to move on from you. But I couldn’t.”
I unclip her bra, lower my mouth to her nipples, and suck and bite on them until they’re taut and she’s writhing beneath me, her legs wrapped around my waist, begging.
My cock is hard against her, only the fabric of my boxers keeping us apart. When she tugs on the waistband, I lift up and let her draw them down, sucking in a breath against the soft scrape of her fingers over my hips and thighs.
“Are you sure, Lara?”
She nods, and when I place myself at her entrance, she lets out a noise that makes me feral. I have to bite my tongue to keep from going too hard or too fast, and when I’m fully inside her, I pause, arms shaking with the effort.
Her hands slide up and over my shoulders, her soft, warm skin against mine, and when she loops her arms around my neck, I remember what she said to me the first time we did this.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
“You must be Jake!”
The moment I see Lara’s father standing there with his hand outstretched to me, I realize it’s real.
Last weekend, lying in her bed, we’d talked and touched through the night. She asked if I’d like to meet the triplets. We agreed that it might be best to introduce myself first as her friend.
Now, here I am, having just climbed out of my truck in the Novaks’ driveway. It’s lined on either side by little American flags, and the smell of grilling meat floats in the air, the soft haze of gray smoke hovering above the fence.
I clasp my hand in Mr. Novak’s and smile right back at him.
“That’s me,” I say, wondering how much Lara has told her parents about who I am and why I’m here.
“Gideon, thanks for coming.”
“It’s nice to meet you, and thanks for inviting me today.”
“Any friend of Lara’s is a friend of ours. Besides, my buddy is a huge Wild fan and he’s gonna be happy to talk shit with you all night.”
I laugh, though the thought of talking about work right now makes my stomach sour. Her dad leads me around the side of the house, through a gate, and into a backyard that’s even more red, white and blue than the front of the house.
On the drive over, I was making myself sick with worry about the first time I’d meet the kids. About what they might think of me and whether or not I’d be cut out for fatherhood.
But the moment comes without fanfare.
The three of them are in swimsuits, playing on a large inflatable slide. Water sprays down and sloshes over the sides. One of them — Chrys — stands at the bottom, wearing a little pink swimsuit with flowers on it. At the top of the slide are Daffy and Aster, both squealing with laughter about who’s going to go first.
“Jake.”
When I turn, Lara is smiling at me, wearing a blue and white sundress that flutters in the breeze. There’s a drink in her hand, extending out to me, and I smile, taking it.
“Thanks, this is a lot of fun.”
“My mom likes to put things together like this. A lot of her friends from the city are here.”
“No pressure,” I joke, glancing around and wondering how many of the people around me are famous.
