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Everyone has an opinion, so the dinner passes with a lively conversation and great food. My dad sits at the head of the table looking like the happiest man on earth.
Later that night,we’re in our wing getting ready for bed. I can’t help noticing that Weston and Callum are looking at me with a deeper level of possessiveness and caring than I’ve ever seen before. They look at each other the same way, and I can relate. I feel this incredible sense of belonging and rightness in the world.
“We’re doing this, aren’t we?” I ask rhetorically as we slide into our smooth, cool sheets. “We’re permanent and it’s all real, and it’s wonderful.” I kiss Weston and then Callum, and they kiss each other. “Do you really want to be fathers?”
“Ah… so much,” Weston answers.
“With all my heart,” Callum swears.
“I need to ditch my IUD at some point then because I love the idea as well.”
“Do it tomorrow,” Callum says.
I laugh and counter with, “I thought we were ring shopping tomorrow with Bess and Bing, and I’ll need to get an appointment first anyway.”
He looks pouty for a moment, then leers at me saying, “Well, then let’s practice, even if we can’t make babies.”
Weston grins and says, “Let’s do it Petra’s favorite way. Get her used to extra loads of swimmers in there all at once.”
“Two in one?” Callum asks.
“Yes, please,” I reply.
This time, we take it slowly, bit by bit. There is no rushing to the finish line, just pure sensuality and adoration of one another. Callum, as promised, demonstrates to Weston how it feels to have magic “grabbers” inside of me, and Weston cries out, “Whoa! That’s amazing!” After letting us enjoy that for a while, he removes his hand and carefully slides into me alongside Weston.
Callum slowly lets us all relish the feel of loving each other inside my body in such a special way. He strokes in and out with his shaft, pulsating and rubbing against Weston. Weston’s eyes nearly roll back in bliss, and he strokes my clit in rhythm with Callum’s pumping. Over and over, we groan as we’re simultaneously swamped with pleasure. I think about having a lifetime of this type of bliss as my climax overtakes me and floods my senses.
When we’re all spent and relaxed, I whisper to them, “I’m so lucky. I get to love more, feel more, do more. This is the life. I love you both so much.”
Epilogue
Five yearslater
Petra
I never did getmy prized Pooh books back, but life has given me many more treasures than trinkets, so the sting of my mother’s betrayal barely hurts anymore. When thoughts about her surface, I do my best to banish them.
My greatest treasure is my family. I have two amazing husbands and two handsome, delightful little boys. My father is healthy, and he enjoys his life immensely. Bess has had two girls, so the testosterone levels in this house are somewhat balanced by that.
I can’t say everything has always been smooth sailing. Two years ago, we noticed that Dad was experiencing bouts of severe pain, and we were all silently convinced the cancer had returned. It was a sad time and quite frightening. I was pregnant with my second baby, and my blood pressure wouldn’t behave under the stress, so I was sent to bed for a couple of weeks. My father had a full physical, and it turned out, thank God, that he hadgallbladder trouble. A quick surgery had him feeling fine again. What a relief.
The other issue has been that even though he loves everyone here, Weston has had a harder time adjusting to constantly living around so many people. His upbringing was a lot more solitary than Callum’s, and I was used to multiple roommates, so it wasn’t so crazy for us. But Weston needed to find some alone time for himself now and then. Our solution was to designate the mansion’s library as a quiet space for anyone who needed a respite from the cacophony of so many residents and babies under one roof. Weston doesn’t retire to the library that often, but when he has something important to think about—or his ears get tired—he certainly uses the option. So do I once in a while when it’s all too much. About the only one who never uses it is my dad. He thrives on the activity and noise. If he wants something from the library, he’ll take it out to a more well-used area of the house.
Weston finally decided to sell the Carmel house when we all agreed that there was no going back to it. He took a few mementos out of the house and then sold it furnished to a couple being transferred from another country. They were thrilled to have it ready for them to move their family in. Callum and I wondered if Weston felt sad about losing the house, but his reply was, “It’s just a building. You two are my home.” Then he warmed our hearts when he took every penny he made from the sale and donated it to a mental health foundation. Oh, that man.
Dad officially turned over the company to me last year, and I was recently featured inForbes Magazineas one of the youngest female billionaires in the country. I’m right up there with Kim Kardashian and Rhianna. Wow. Me? Petra Alister-O’Malley? People are probably wondering, “Who the heck is she?”
I love the work of running the company—and I do have a wonderful support system in place as Dad promised. Obviously,I had to give up ghostwriting to make time for work and child-rearing, but I have started writing my own novel that I may take years to finish. It doesn’t matter. I embrace the challenge, and I’ve come up with a nifty pen name.
Regarding my mother, I honestly pity her. She had someone willing to love and cherish her. A man who’d have given her the moon. For her own warped reasons that I’ll never understand, she tried to grab it all for herself, and in doing so she alienated everyone who could have loved her. Her priorities are so messed up. Weston says she’s a sociopath. She certainly is a sad excuse for a human being. Some days I worry she’ll show up at the door demanding her share of whatever she’s determined she’s owed, but the reality is, we’re far too covered in security for that to ever happen. I hope. Though I don’t honestly give her a lot of real estate in my brain, I’ve wondered now and then if she saw theForbesarticle. I fantasize that she is sitting in a seedy bar somewhere like Amsterdam and sees a familiar face on the cover of the magazine that was left by a patron, and she grabs it and starts to plot how to get to me and cash in.
Eh! Probably not.
But… today is a beautiful spring Sunday afternoon. The sun is warm, and the flowers are blooming, so we’re planning to take the children outside to play. We have toys and snacks and lots of love to share.
The dogs will love it too.
It’s going to be amazing.
The
