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Flicking the reins, Gibson shouted, “Yaw!”
I reared up a little, then obligingly took her for a stroll around the room. When we were finished, I plopped her onto the couch. She fell into hysterics and immediately asked for another turn. Squatting at the couch so we were eye to eye, I held up a finger. “In a minute. First, we need to have a chat, little lady. Why are you picking on O
She only gave me a blank look, so I tried a different approach. “Do you like your sister?”
That got me a pout. “She’s mean.”
“Mean? How is she mean? All she does is sleep and shit. Errr, poop.” I looked around, but Alfred had left and A
Gibson only frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. I wasn’t sure if she was getting me or not, and I really didn’t know how to get a toddler to tell me what they were feeling, and I kind of didn’t want to. That whole emotional crap…it just made me uncomfortable. A
“I’m sure she’s not trying to be mean, honey,” I reassured her. There. Parenting done for the night.
“She not share,” she stated, unmoved by my encouragement.
Gibson was usually the one stealing crap from O
I thought for sure she’d bring me her favorite doll or something, but she didn’t. She stuck her finger in my chest, and just like that…I got it. She was jealous. “Oh…well…” Damn it, I really wish A
Gibson tilted her head, and I knew I’d lost her. Touching my finger to her cheek, I made myself say, “We love you as much as we love O
She nodded and stretched her arms out for a hug. As I embraced her, I noticed A
It took two hours to finish getting ready, prep Chelsey when she arrived with her kids, and say goodbye to Gibson, who suddenly didn’t want us to leave and was sobbing as we walked out the door. A
“That’s good,” she murmured, not looking relieved.
“Something up?” I asked, putting my hand on her knee. The smooth skin made mine tingle. Maybe we should skip out on this and go find a hotel. Have a little private party of our own.
“I was just…” She hesitated, then turned to me in the backseat with her. “Why do you never talk to me like that?”
Since I’d been picturing her spread out on a sea of white sheets, I needed a little help co
“Like the way you did with Gibson. I mean, I can’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me. It might have only been that one time, before we got married…”
I tried to think through our past conversations, but I couldn’t remember either, so I quickly gave up. It didn’t matter anyway. It was just a word. “You know I don’t like being all plain and predictable. It’s overused anyway.”
She thought about that, then shrugged. “Yeah, I know, but it would be nice to know what I meant to you every once in a while. Sex is really the only time you’re vocal about what you like.” She gri
I ran my hand higher, to her thigh. Maybe we could just do it back here. Wouldn’t be the first time. “There’s a lot to praise during sex, especially sex with you.”
Her smile turned full and wicked, then she frowned. “Well, it would be nice to hear some ‘praise’ during the off times too.”
Shifting my focus to the road, I considered my options. I spoke them while I thought. “Well, I’m not doing the I love you, you complete me crap like Kellan does. It’s nauseating. But…how about…whenever I say, ‘Baby, you’re the bee’s knees,’ you’ll know what I really mean.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Bee’s knees? Are you from the 1920s?”
Looking over at her, I wriggled my eyebrows. “Would you prefer something else? Tiger’s titties? Panda’s pussy? Beaver’s…beaver?”
Shaking her head, she laughed. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
Releasing her thigh, I grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “And you’re the gorilla’s grapes, sexy girl.”
By the time we got there, A
The party was being held at a private residence of some guy in the industry who worked with everybody, so everybody showed up at his parties. From what Harold told me, several celebrities were going to be hanging around the shindig, and the more we mingled with them, the better.
Our driver stopped the car, then rushed around to A
I told the driver I’d text him when we were ready to leave, then I escorted A
When we got to the front door, a butler in a tuxedo was standing there. He had a tray of champagne in his hand, but as I reached to grab a couple, he pulled back and firmly stated, “Tickets, please.” Fuck…the tickets…They’d sent them in the mail, and Harold had warned me to grab them. They were printed on paper lined with gold foil…cheesier than the carpet. I had no idea where they were, probably in the garbage.
I was just about to tell the guy that Griffin Hancock didn’t need credentials to get into a party when A
I grabbed four, just because I could. As we were walking through the door, I handed A
Grabbing a fluted glass with each hand, A
Double-fisting it, we walked into the room packed with people. At least half of them I recognized from some TV show or movie. There were way more celebrities here than I’d anticipated, and I suddenly knew I was right where I belonged—with the stars.
Half a dozen drinks later, I was flying high and feeling no pain. Hollywood soirées were fucking awesome! Bring on the party! Cristal for everyone! A
“Mr. Hancock, are you having a good time?” he asked. His tie was a colorful pattern of varying shades of purple squares. It was a party…what the fuck did he need a tie for? My shirt was wide open, so my gold pimp chain was exposed. Ah, yeah.