Mother Faker

Sneaking around with my wife might be my new favorite pastime.

Fuck baseball. Kissing Liv and finding places to kiss Liv while inside the house of horrors has become my sport of choice.

For the moment, I’ve agreed to keep what’s going on between us under wraps. The last thing I want to do is let her kids down, and since Liv is currently under the impression that our marriage has an expiration date, I’ve got my work cut out for me—namely, making my wife fall for me—before we tell her kids that we’re together.

But while at dinner on Friday night, and every stolen moment thereafter, I enjoyed the hell out of her. Kissing her in corners, flirting, fucking smiling.

Even work is more fun now.

“Smoothie?” Shayla offers from across the kitchen.

She’s in charge of breakfast, and I’m quickly learning to pick something up on the way into the office like Liv does. I now understand why she’s always walking in with a store-bought item in hand. The green juice tastes like shit, and that’s being kind.

While I generally try not to curse, even internally when I’m in this house, I won’t insult ducks by using that word to describe how horrendous the concoctions are.

I shake my head, but she forces a glass into my hand anyway. “You’ve been glowing since you moved in with us. Don’t stop drinking the shakes now.”

Dylan lets out a huff of a laugh, sending a lock of her red hair floating. “That’s def Livy-induced, right, Becks?”

I glare at her, but when Liv walks into the kitchen, I can’t help the way my cheeks lift. Maybe it is Livy-induced.

“Sleep okay?” I murmur when she gets close enough for me to see puffy red eyes with half-moons under them.

She yawns. “Adeline had me up half the night.”

I hold back a groan. Addie should be in her own room. Even the slightest sounds wake her up.

“Beckett doesn’t want his shake,” Shayla says, pointing to the thick green goo in a glass she forced on me. “But you could use it.”

Liv grimaces, but only for a moment before she schools her expression into a serene smile.

Brushing her hair out of her face, I murmur, “I’ll pick up your favorite espresso on the way in.” Then, louder, I say, “No, you’re right. I need my greens. No time for you to make one for Livy, though; we’ll grab stuff at the office. Go say bye to the kids. We leave in ten.”

She bites her lip, the teeniest of smiles peeking through. “Okay, Bossman.”

My dick strains at that term. Living in this house is a mindfuck, for sure.

Pulling in a deep breath, I brace myself. Then I toss back a gulp of the juice and set the glass on the counter. “Thanks, Shay. Gotta run. Have a good day.”

Before I can make myself scarce, Dylan calls out, “Wait! I have a to-go cup.”

Shay’s back is turned again as she adds more leafy shit to the blender, so I glare at Dylan. “Oh, thank God. Wouldn’t want to waste a single drop.”

As I head for the door, I clock four kids. Each one of them is wearing some version of a light pink shirt. Now, I have no issue with the color or who wears it, but the dye is splotchy and uneven, like these shirts aren’t intentionally pink.

“What the hell?” I grumble.

“That’ll be a thousand dollars.”

Practically jumping out of my skin, I whip around.

One of the Shining Twins is staring me down, holding up a phone with a QR code. Without a word, I pull my own phone from my pocket, scan the code, and transfer the cash.

Her face breaks out in a sinister smile. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

She turns on her heel and bounces down the hall.

“Hey,” I call. “Why’s your shirt white and everyone else’s is pink?”

She laughs over her shoulder. “You think I’m dumb enough to let Aunt Dylan do my laundry?”

Delia materializes like a dark angel.

“Medusa,” I grumble in greeting.

“Man,” she replies in a tone indicating the entire gender is an insult to society.

When Dylan’s son Liam appears in the doorway, ready to help get the rest of the kids off to school, I bite back my laugh at his obviously pink-dyed shirt.

If looks could kill, I’d be six feet below. “Have something to say about Ma?”

Like a light to her son’s darkness, Dylan appears next to him with a pink piece of fabric in hand.

“Did I miss a memo about house uniform day?” I tease.

She beams, her golden eyes alight. “Nope. Got you one to match.”

Then without warning she tosses the garment at me, which I catch easily, before shaking it out and quickly realize is one of my favorite Tom Fords. “Dippy Do, what the hell did you do?”

“That’ll be another thousand!” comes from somewhere in the house.

I groan. What the duck?

“Ugh, the faucet is acting up again!” Shay hollers from the kitchen.

I roll my eyes. “Maybe if Delia would let one of the contractors I’ve called come take a peek⁠—”

“Don’t need your help, douche-wazzle,” Medusa interrupts.

“That’s not even a word.”

“I had to make up one that encompasses all aspects of your douche-waddery.”

“Also not a word. Hire a contractor, Medusa. This place won’t fix itself.”

Her only response is a death stare, so with that, I spin and head toward the front door.

Outside, propped against the Limo, Charlie’s wearing an amused expression as the moms and kids shuffle out one by one.

“Can we drop you off somewhere?” he asks Dylan.

“No thanks, Charlie. We’re being one with the universe today, right, boys?”

Kai, who’s clinging to her hand on the side farthest from the road, wears a shy smile. On her other side, Finn hollers “Yup!” as he holds tight to her hand and Liam’s and swings between them. With his free hand, Liam pushes Addie’s stroller down the sidewalk.

Medusa herds Winnie and the Shining Twins into her minivan. Apparently, she sold her Beamer and bought the thing as a big F-you to the world. She still carries the expensive purse and is dressed like every other spineless lawyer, but I keep my comments to myself.

Shayla waves from the house, probably secretly giddy to have a peaceful morning working from home.

Charlie holds the door for Liv. Once she slides in, I follow and take her hand.

“Did Addie sleep okay at your brother’s house this weekend?”

Liv looks up, blinking silently.

“Should I not hold your hand?” I ask, loosening my grip. “The windows are tinted, and they were already on their way, I don’t think anyone noticed.”

Her eyes soften and she leans into me. “It’s fine. It’s just the first time you’ve called her Addie and not Little One.”

Oh fuck, I did. I’m learning their damn names, and worse yet, their preferences. I’m so in over my fucking head.

Ignoring whatever the hell that means, I prod, “Well? Did she?”

Liv drops her temple to my shoulder. “She sleeps better in her own space.”

That’s what I thought.

Unable to help myself, I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. Then I let out a sigh. “I don’t like that you’re tired because of me.”

She lets out a light laugh and sits up again. “With your ego, I figured you liked keeping women up all night.”

I growl and nip at her hand. “If you were in my bed, that’d definitely be the case. But I’m being serious, Livy. I can check into a hotel. Then you can move Addie back into the nursery.”

She shakes her head. “The press would catch wind, and then it’d be all over the news. I can see the headline now. Trouble in paradise already.”

I groan at just how accurate she is.

“It’s fine,” she murmurs over a yawn.

It’s not, but I’m selfish enough to go along with her, because if I only have a few months as her husband, then the last place I want to spend my nights is in a hotel without her.

When we pull up in front of the office, I begrudgingly release her hand, already trying to think of ways to get her alone in the office. She’s got a meeting with Sara though so I’m left staring at my computer screen in complete silence. This is the first moment of quiet I’ve had in days. I should be relishing it. Instead, I find myself craving the noise.

Fearing that I’m losing my mind, I text the family group chat. I need a boys’ night.

Who’s around for drinks this week?

Aiden: Me!

Gavin: You have a fucking game. You are not around.

Aiden: <sad face emoji> Okay, Dad.

Gavin: Nah, that’s Beckett’s job. He’s the dad of the group now.

Duck you

Shit. Stupid autocorrect.

Gavin: See? He doesn’t even say duck anymore. Told ya he’s a dad.

Gavin: Shit, I meant duck.

Gavin: Duck.

Gavin: Dammit FUCK!

You were saying?

Brooks: Everything okay?

Just need a break.

Gavin: Worried you’re getting too attached to your wife?

Dropping my head back, I groan. “Fucking Gavin.”

The loud laugh echoing inside my office startles me. I bolt up again, causing my chair to roll back from my desk. As if I spoke him into existence, the asshole leans against the doorway, his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “You summoned?”

“Come in and shut the fucking door.”

Gavin’s eyes widen in shock, but he covers it with a smile. “Not the ducking door?”

“Duck you.” I huff, but I smile, which was his intention, I’m sure.

Attention locked on me, he drops into a chair on the other side of my desk. “Weekend went that badly?”

I rough both hands down my face. “No. It went that well.”

“Then why the hell do you look like someone ran over your dog? Shit, did you hit another dog on your way to work?”

“I see you’ve got comedian covered today.”

He smirks. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”

“I’m so in over my head, Gav.” Dropping my elbows to my desk, I hang my head. “Her kids… Livy.” I sigh out her name.

He smiles. “Livy?”

“See?” I blow out a breath. “In over my fucking head.”

“Why is that a problem, though?”

“She lives with three other women. In a house that’s falling down. There are seven kids and no fathers. It’s what nightmares are made of.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Pressing a hand over my mouth, I realize he’s right. “Because I’m ducking crazy about her.”

“Right,” he says with a sage nod.

“Gavin, I can’t fall for her.”

As if he’s settling in, he pulls one leg up and rests his ankle on his opposite knee. “Little too late, no?”

Maybe. “What the hell am I gonna do?”

With a smirk, he licks his lips. “Enjoy it. You don’t have to have an answer for everything. Your entire life doesn’t have to be planned out before you. Live. See what happens.”

“And what if it doesn’t work out? What if I hurt her kids? Hurt her.”

The words burn like acid coming out of my mouth.

“Keep it casual. Sure, she’s your wife.” A grin splits his face. Dammit. The jig is so up. “But just enjoy it until you do figure it out.”

“That’s your great advice? Keep it casual? With my wife?”

“Yup.” He claps his hands and stands. “Now, I have a hockey team to run, and I’m pretty sure there’s a sport you’re supposed to be paying attention to.”

He’s halfway to the door when our phones chime in unison.

Brooks: We’ll all be in Vegas for games this weekend, right? How about we get a drink Saturday?

My chest tightens. Vegas. Liv and I will be returning to Vegas for the first time since we got married. Damn if that doesn’t ignite a feeling inside me that’s half hope and half trepidation.

Gavin: Pretty sure Beckett will be busy with his wife, reliving their wedding night.

With that, my brother shoots me a wink and strides out the door.

And then I smile as an idea forms in my head. Because yeah, that’s exactly what I intend to do.