Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

“Mrs. Peterson?” Phoebe gasps.

It’s her alright, but she’s dressed to the nines and looking like she stepped right out of a time machine from the nineteen forties.

“C’mon, Arthur. We’ll be late,” she snaps and my dad is at attention. Bustling to get over to her and take her arm before she changes her mind.

But something tells me she won’t. There’s a look in her own eyes that’s as happy and relieved as the twinkle in my dad’s eyes when he sees her.

Phoebe and I stare at each other, long after my dad and her landlady have left until we both have to laugh, finding each other again in the middle of her tiny living room that used to be her bedroom as well as her closet and dining room.

I hold her close to me, kissing her. Not even minding if the door is open and unlocked anymore.

There’s nothing for Phoebe to worry about, ever again.

She’s all mine and I’m definitely all hers.

Phoebe, Trixie, and me. The way I know it’ll be from now on. With no more interruptions or nasty surprises.

“Let’s go home,” I tell her.

“What about all the gear?” she asks, and I ask her in return if she’s really bothered about what happens with her stalker from now on.

“Not really,” she confesses, and I have to agree.

“I think dad’s gonna be spending plenty of time around here, in your building at least,” I observe. “Maybe he can pack up his own gear, once he finds all the cameras.” I laugh out loud.

“Then let’s get out of here,” Phoebe says.

And taking her hand in mine, with Trixie in tow, we make our way out and she pulls her apartment door shut for what I know will be the last time.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Three Weeks Later

Phoebe

“What do you mean it’s too small?” Max asks me, pretending to be offended when we discuss choices between his three houses.

“Apart from the fact your dad probably boned my landlady there, it’s just a little too small is all I’m saying,” I tell him, knowing he agrees with at least half of what I’ve said while he makes a face.

“And the other place, outside the city, I thought you loved that one?” he asks, feigning even greater horror when I announce it’s ‘too big.’

“Too big. Too small. Isn’t anything just right, Phoebe?” he cries out dramatically, looking up to the ceiling with both hands outstretched.

“I know one thing that’s a perfect fit,” I tease him, letting my eyes stray down to his lap.

He reaches out for me and grabs my waist, making me giggle and gasp before he sits me down on his knees, which I shimmy back on until I feel him right where I want underneath my dress.

“Here,” I coo, leaning back so my head is resting against his chest, my hair falling all over him as he breathes me in.

“Here is just right,” I add, grinding down on him until he growls and I feel his huge hands sliding up past the hem of my dress, making me powerless to stop him.

Once his hands are between my legs I grip mine over the top of them, hitting pause just for a second.

I have something to tell Max.

“I mean this house, Max, out here in the country. This is just right too.” I explain.

He lets out a satisfied sound, relieved.

“Here with you and Trixie. Not too small and not too big. Just enough room for all of us.”

“I’m glad you’re happy baby,” he tells me, kissing my neck and tickling me with his stubble, but I’m not done.

“Max? Remember what you said about having a family of your own, about how your dad’s always hounding you to be a real dad to his grandbabies?”

“You don’t have to remind me of that,” Max smiles. “You heard him the last time he called, I’m almost worried him and old Mrs. Peterson might adopt again if we don’t-”

But he stops.

He doesn’t say another word, because he doesn’t have to.

“You mean?” he asks, his hands sliding up to my belly, where I hold them as I nod my head.

“Three weeks overdue and the test was positive,” I hear myself tell him, not sure if this is even how I should be doing it.

He goes so quiet, I think maybe I’ve done it all wrong. That maybe it is too soon.

But then I feel his lips are on my neck. His hands hugging me closer.

“Oh, Phoebe. We’re gonna be a family? A real family?” he sniffs, and I can feel the tears from his cheeks on my neck before I turn myself around, straddling myself over his lap.

“Does that mean we can’t-” he starts to say, but I’m already smiling, shaking my head.

“No sir,” I inform him. “It’s precisely that I want to talk to you more about. It’s not like I’m gonna get any more pregnant now, is it?” I scold him, letting a hand fish between my legs as I feel for him.