When I finish, I hesitate for a second.
“I haven’t even told Rusty about us,” I say.
“Have you tried, ‘Hey, sweetheart, Charlie and I are fake engaged but banging for real’?” she asks.
I laugh, still looking out at the parking lot below her apartment.
“Hey, honey, Charlie and I aren’t actually engaged but I’m absolutely tapping that ass,” I say, and Charlie snort-laughs.
“We’re hitting it super hard every time you go to ballet class,” Charlie adds.
“I might explain it to my second grader in slightly more PG terms,” I say, then lean over and kiss the top of Charlie’s head. “Like with the word girlfriend or something.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Charlie says, tilting her head up for a kiss on the lips.Our sex fest weekend mellows a bit on Sunday, when we only fuck twice before finally heading out, back to my mom’s house for Sunday dinner. Crystal is bringing Rusty back at five — in theory — so we’ll all be there when she arrives.
We don’t even have sex the first time until after breakfast. I’d say that it’s because I’m showing restraint, but the truth is that I’m sore in muscles I didn’t even know I had.
The first is on the couch, one of Charlie’s legs thrown over my shoulders, the other around my waist, taking me so deep it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I fuck her slowly, lazily, wanting to stretch this moment out as long as possible.
Then, right as we’re leaving, she kisses me and suddenly I need her again, just one more time, so I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom while she squeals.
I toss her on the bed, pull her shorts down, bend her over. Two seconds later I’m pressing her vibrator to her clit, five seconds later she’s moaning my name, and ten seconds later I’m balls-deep in her tight channel, vibrator still pressed to her clit as she arches her back, shouts my name, gasps make me come with her head thrown back.
I do. Twice. Then I come hard, pressing myself inside her like I’m trying to meld our bodies together.
When we’re finished, we’re both gasping for air. We’re both still wearing all our clothes, and before I pull out, I lean forward, plant a kiss on the back of her neck.
We’re only ten minutes late to my mom’s house.There’s no Rusty, so there’s more drinking than usual. Seth and Caleb get into some red wine and hassle Levi about calling June ma’am at Riverfest. Levi has slightly more bourbon than usual and asks Eli when he’s going to make an honest woman of Violet. Eli has some gin and tonics and asks Caleb if an algorithm can predict when your brother should stay out of your damn business.
Charlie and I more or less stay out of it, though of course we get dragged into the fray a few times. There’s no avoiding it.
We eat dinner and dessert. We clean up. Five o’clock comes and goes, then five-thirty. At six o’clock a silver BMW finally pulls into the bottom of my mom’s driveway, then inches its way up to the house.
Every single time she comes back, I’m relieved, weirdly giddy to see Rusty again. She’s my daughter and I love her, but I also like her. She’s a pretty cool kid, no matter how much she drives me crazy.
As soon as the car stops, the back door opens and Rusty bursts out, hopping from her booster seat and onto the gravel. I note that apparently Crystal doesn’t have the child locks activated on her car, but then Rusty’s running toward me and I pick her up and whirl her around before giving her a giant hug.
“Hi, Dad,” she says, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“Hi, kiddo,” I say, kissing the top of her head.
She squirms. I put her down and she’s up the porch stairs like a shot, and as she opens the door I can hear her shout, “Charlie! My mom gave me a piranha—”
I can only pray it’s not a real live piranha as Crystal finally heaves herself out of the car and comes toward me, carrying Rusty’s duffel bag. She hands it to me like I’m the bellboy.
“Fun weekend?” I ask, determined to be civil.
“We took her to a water park,” she says, and starts to walk toward the house, sort of rolling her eyes. “At least she had fun, I’m too pregnant to do shit. I can’t believe I have two more months of this. Jesus, I have to move to Denver in this state.”
I hoist the bag over my shoulder and stop right below the porch steps, turning toward her.
“You told Rusty she was moving to Colorado?” I say, quietly.
Crystal doesn’t stop, but she’s slow as hell.
“Sure, why not?” she asks.