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We tiptoe to the door, the boys giggling the entire time. I pull it open, grabbing their hands as we step outside, still out of view of their mom.
“One, two, three…” I whisper, then we sprint around the corner and straight for the pool.
“Cannonball!” we all three shout as we jump into the pool, sending water splashing and Chantelle squealing.
“Success!” Silas says, high-fiving me, then attempting with Jenson who completely misses his hand.
“You are a bad influence.” Chantelle laughs, wiping the spray of water from her sunglasses.
The boys and I continue our cannonball contest, Chantelle giving us each tens.
“I’m going to sit out a few rounds,” I say, climbing out of the pool, already exhausted. “I’ll sit up here and judge with your mom.”
The boys don’t show any signs of slowing. They continue to jump one after the other, swimming to the edge and climbing out to do it all over again.
“My God,” I groan, leaning back into the chair next to Chantelle. “I already feel fifty and I’m only halfway there.”
“Wait till you push a baby or two out. You’ll feel like you can’t even laugh or sneeze anymore.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Worth it though… even though they have endless energy and love to bring bugs and snakes and toads into the house unannounced.”
I look over at her and raise my eyebrows. “Bugs? No, thanks.”
“Oh, did I tell you about our new kittens?”
“You have kittens?”
“Two,” she replies, holding up her finger with an annoyed look on her face. “The boys found them somewhere. They said they wandered into our backyard. We’ve been searching for the mom but no luck.”
“Where are they? You guys keeping them?”
She sighs. “I told the boys they could keep them, but they have to learn to feed them and scoop litter. That will not be passed off to Mrs. Ludlow.” She says it sternly as if she’s speaking to the boys. “We have them in one of the guest bedrooms right now that has an en suite. You can go up and play with them if you want.”
“Aw, I will for sure. I’ve been debating on adopting one, but I don’t think I’m home enough, especially not with the new job.”
“How is that going?” She turns to look at me, sipping her lemonade.
I shrug, reminding myself to play it cool and not act too eager. “It’s good. I got to travel with Beckham to Las Vegas for some meetings so that was pretty cool.”
“Beckham, huh?” She looks at me over her glasses.
“Er—Mr. Archer. He actually insisted I call him Beckham.” I can feel my face growing red. “Anyway, he’s involving me in more day-to-day stuff so that’s been cool. I get to flex my finance degree which feels satisfying since I paid for it.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. I know your father will be as well. He’s been worried about you, but I told him to relax, she’s extremely capable and can handle it.” She winks at me.
“Thank you. I think he still thinks I’m that little seven-year-old girl.”
“I think you’re right. Plus, he’s a father; they always worry about their little girls.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “And if Beckham is ever out of line, don’t be afraid to remind him who your father is.”
I choke as I try to swallow, sputtering and coughing. “What do you mean?” I finally manage to get out.
“Oh, if he’s just too hard on you. These billionaire types are a different breed. I know the type; I’m married to one.” She laughs and I feel myself relaxing, realizing she’s just making a general statement and not something more specific. “They can be a little too big for their britches now and then. That’s why it’s good for us ladies to remind them who keeps the tempo.”
“He’s been great so far.”
“Speaking of,” she says, looking at her watch, “he’s supposed to be here by now.”
“Who? Beckham?” I shoot out of my chair, suddenly very aware that I’m in a bikini.
Why the hell would I be nervous for him to see me in a two-piece? He’s literally had his face practically buried inside me.
