“We shall.”
I parked on the street, and we’re walking up the sidewalk to her parents’ house. Chaos reigns around us as soon as we step foot inside. Two dogs come running, and one wags its tail so hard it knocks over a decorative vase on the coffee table in the living room. Charlie’s niece, Libby, is upstairs in what I think is supposed to be a timeout. She’s screaming and crying and banging on a closed door.
Her youngest nephew cries from somewhere deeper inside the house, and the TV is blaring Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
“I have no idea why you left,” I say and take my shoes off. “It’s so quiet and peaceful here.”
She rolls her eyes and takes off her heels. “Right?” Taking her phone out of her purse, she turns just in time to see one of the dogs pick up her shoe and run off with it.
“Drop it, Chewy!” she calls, chasing after the dog. “Those are Gucci!”
The other dog jumps up at me, tail wagging.
“Hey, buddy,” I say and kneel down so the dog stops jumping. Looking through the foyer and into the living room, I’m taken back to the last time we were here.
This is where we sat when I broke Charlie’s heart. When I told her I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship and wanted to have fun.
Fuck, I was an idiot.
If I hadn’t done that, I wonder where we’d be. Would that be our kid upstairs throwing a huge temper tantrum? Would we have two unruly dogs? Or—gulp—a dozen or so cats?
“Libby, if I hear one more—oh, Owen!” Carly comes through the dining room, looking up at the stairs.
“Hey, Carly. Long time no see.”
“Oh my God, yes!” She sets down the toddler in her arms and gives me a hug. “I feel like you got taller. Did you get taller?”
“Maybe you got shorter.”
“Fatter, that’s for sure, but I don’t know about shorter,” she laughs.
“I see they’re about to break ground on your lot soon.”
She picks up the little boy again. His eyes are red and swollen from crying and he rests his head against her, obviously ready for a nap he doesn’t want to take.
“I am so flipping excited. Not that I’m not grateful to be here, but it’ll be nice to have room to have all our things spread out again.” Her eyes go to the formal living room, which is doubling as a playroom for now.
“Got it,” Charlie says, coming back into the foyer holding her shoe. The dog follows behind her, playfully jumping and trying to get the shoe back. “These are going in here for safe keeping.” She grabs her other shoe and mine as well and puts them in the front closet.
“Do you want a drink?” Carly asks over Libby’s screams. The kid’s got an impressive set of lungs on her.
“Sure,” I say, and Charlie eagerly nods.
Carly leads the way into the kitchen, and I put my arm around Charlie, pulling her close. “You still want to have sex, right? I’m making sure now in case you get shit-faced again.”
She laughs and pushes me away. “I did not get shit-faced last night. And about the other thing.” She purses her lips together and shrugs. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”
Carly goes around the island counter and crouches down, opening the wine fridge. I take her distraction to my advantage and grab Charlie around the waist and bring her to me. We’re around the corner, but if Carly takes a step back, she’ll see us.
“What are you doing?” Charlie hisses. She goes to push me away again, but I can see the lust in her eyes.
“Trying to sway you.” I put my lips to hers and she melts against me. Heat pours off her body, and she wraps her arms around my neck, standing on her toes and pushing her hips against mine. My tongue slips into her mouth and the same desperate passion we felt last night takes us over. I press her against the wall, and she groans as I deepen the kiss.
“What about red Moscato?” Carly asks and sets a bottle on the counter. Charlie and I break apart, both breathless.
“Not fair,” she whispers and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yeah. Carly, that sounds good.”
“What about you, Owen? I can try to make you something. I know there’s whiskey in the pantry.”
“Wine is fine,” I say and adjust my pants when she turns to grab two glasses. It was just one kiss and yet I’m getting turned on. Charlie plants her hands on the counter and lets out a breath. It’s safe to say she is too.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She took Matt for a bike ride,” Carly tells her.
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Six.”
“My nephew lives a few blocks away. They’re around the same age.”