Just My Luck (The Kings)

After the whirlwind of the wedding shower, I was happy to slip off my high heels and trade the elegant party dress for a cozy pair of leggings. I smiled as I slid the white dress onto a hanger and hung it in Abel’s closet. My fingers toyed with a shimmery pearl, and I sighed.

It really was a great party.

Sometime during the wedding shower, I had stopped worrying about people realizing my marriage to Abel was a farce, and I simply tried to enjoy myself. Outtatowner had such an inviting way about it that it was easy to forget that it was all pretend.

With Abel beside me, I found the pretending easy.

Too easy.

“Mama! Mom! I caught a huge fish today!” Ben’s voice bounced down the hallway as the front door slammed open. I cringed as the door rattled the nearby bookshelf. I was sure Abel never expected his life to be so upturned by two small children and their hot-mess mother.

“In here!” I called, pulling a cardigan around the vintage T-shirt I’d chosen.

But when they didn’t come to find me, I walked into the hallway to see Ben taking Granddad’s phone and shoving it in Abel’s face. “Do you see how big it is?”

Abel grabbed the phone and nodded, his attention solely on my son. “Wow. That’s impressive. Paw Paw Springs?”

“I caught some too!” Tillie complained.

“You did,” Granddad agreed. “And, yes, I took them down to Paw Paw—the creek was hopping.”

“Hey there, chickens.” Loving affection warmed my chest as I watched their conversations tumble over one another. “I missed you today.”

I walked up to Tillie and pulled her into a hug before ruffling Ben’s hair and dropping a kiss on top.

“Your hair is so fancy.” Tillie’s eyes moved over my sleek chignon, which I hadn’t yet undone.

My hand gently pressed against the twist. “We had a party today, and it took forever to get it right. I didn’t have the heart to take it down yet.”

“It’s really pretty.” Tillie’s eyes sparkled with feminine appreciation.

I cupped my sweet, tenderhearted daughter’s face. “Thanks, baby.” I turned to my granddad, who was showing Abel more pictures from the day’s fishing adventures. “The kids were good for you?”

Granddad scoffed. “Of course.”

Ben smiled at me, uncontained energy buzzing from his every pore. “We brought a picnic, but then Granddad had candies and we got dinner and then ice cream, and he let me get a triple scoop!”

I shot my granddad a pointed glare as my son rattled like a boiling kettle from his sugar high.

“What?” His hands raised in feigned innocence. “It’s the land of yes when they’re with me. You know that.”

Unable to argue with his grandfatherly logic, I simply gave up and changed the subject. “I got some news today. The money is officially ready to be spent. We just have to make a decision on which builders we go with to renovate the house.” I toyed with the inside of my lip. “Sylvie recommended Kate and Beckett.”

“Kate Sullivan?” Abel grumbled.

I knew tensions between the Sullivans and Kings had lessened since Sylvie and Duke got together, but it had never quite gone away. “I think it’s Kate Miller now, but—yeah.”

Abel grunted a noncommittal noise.

“I reached out to her, and she was really excited to talk about it. Given the historical nature of the farmhouse, she said they might even consider it for a spot on their show. Isn’t that something?”

I still couldn’t believe that Kate and Beckett Miller from the popular Home Again show were even considering taking on the farmhouse build. Not only was their love story incredibly hot—he was Kate’s ex-boyfriend’s older brother and her brother’s best friend—but they’d made national headlines restoring historic homes all around Lake Michigan. I was positively giddy at the thought of them taking on the renovation.

Granddad shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

I frowned at my grandfather. I had expected him to be more enthusiastic about rebuilding his childhood home. “Well, this is for you . . . I only want you to be happy. It’s your home.”

“I’m not going to live forever, Sloaney.” Granddad sighed, and a twinge of emotion pierced my chest. “You do what you think is best.”

Tears stung behind my eyelids, and emotion clogged my throat.

Sensing the tension, Abel’s gaze bounced between my grandfather and me. “Hey, Bax.” Abel’s hand landed softly on his shoulder. “Can you stay for dinner or do you have plans?”

“Oh,” Granddad answered, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Actually, I do have plans. Your aunt Bug and I are sharing a meal.”

Relief flooded through me at the swift change of subject, allowing me to compose myself. If Abel was surprised that his aunt and my grandfather were getting dinner together, he didn’t let it show.

“Next time, then.” Abel smiled and patted Granddad’s shoulder.

After a few more hugs from the kids, I walked my grandfather to the door, and we said our goodbyes.

I turned to Abel and sighed. “Thanks for the assist. I hate when he talks about not being around. Sometimes it just catches me off guard.”

“I think he just likes to see you happy.” Abel’s shoulders always seemed to carry the weight of the world. He offered a quiet half smile. “But you’re lucky, you know.”

My throat felt tight. I knew enough to know that love like my granddad so freely offered me wasn’t at all what Abel had experienced from his own family. Thankfully, it seemed as though his siblings were trying to stay connected despite their complicated relationships with their father.

I clasped my hands in front of me. “How do you feel about a low-key movie night? After today, I could use some downtime.”

“Movie night!” Cheers erupted behind me as the kids clambered onto the couch. After fighting over the remote control and taking forever to decide what to watch, the kids settled on a fantasy adventure film about a riverboat captain in search of treasure.

Abel moved to the kitchen. “Hey, Ben. Want to learn how to make BLTs?”

My son scrambled to his feet. “What’s a BLT?”

Abel looked at me and shook his head in disbelief before returning his attention to Ben. “Bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, but we can make them fun.” He gestured to the sink. “Come on. Wash up and I’ll show you.”

I sat on the couch, fighting emotion as I watched Abel patiently speak with my rambunctious son. Together they looked through the refrigerator, pulling out options to uplevel the simple sandwiches. Ben giggled through taking our requests—Tillie wanted avocado, but no tomato, Ben chose no mayo. Abel and I wanted the works.

“Let’s make a quick salad.” Abel began chopping lettuce.NôvelDrama.Org owns all © content.

“Rabbit food? Gross.” Ben’s face twisted.

Abel laughed and continued chopping. “Trust me, kid, with the amount of bacon I’m going to put in this, you’ll barely notice.”

Heat spread through my chest as I remained a silent observer. Abel smiled with ease and laughed when Ben got silly. He redirected him with a firm but kind hand. Ben listened and nodded as though making a BLT was the most interesting thing in the world.

When they brought the food to the living room, I quickly reined in my emotions. Tillie and Ben sat on the floor, eating their sandwiches and some potato chips on the living room coffee table.

“What’s the best part of your day, Mama?” Tillie asked me as we got settled.

I smiled. “The party was really lovely. I had fun.” My eyes flicked to Abel, and I wondered if he could tell I was remembering our kiss. “What’s the best part of your day, Abel?”

His eyes flicked to my mouth, and my skin tingled. He licked his lips. “Probably . . . cooking with my new sous chef. How about you, Benny?”

Ben’s face split into a grin. “Definitely cooking with Abel. Or the big fish. I don’t know. Can I have two best parts?”

I laughed. “You sure can.” I tipped my head toward Tillie to remind Ben to ask her.

“What’s the best part of your day, Till?” Ben asked.

“The picnic with Granddad. And ice cream before dinner.”

I smiled at my little girl, and we all settled in to watch the movie.

I sat cross-legged on one end of the small sofa and perched my plate in my lap. Despite the playful and raucous opening theme music of the movie, I was painfully aware of Abel sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

His wide frame took up the majority of the space, his spread legs creeping over to my side. I kept my legs tucked under me and leaned into the armrest as I ate. The living room was dark, except for the flashes of light coming from the television.

When I finished, I gathered my plate, along with Ben and Tillie’s discarded sandwiches. With one arm full of dishes, I reached out for Abel’s plate.

He immediately started to rise when I shook my head. “I’ve got it. Relax.”

His brows pinched down, but he settled back into the couch, and I walked toward the kitchen with a grin on my face. Abel was so quick to try to take care of everything around the house that it felt nice to be able to beat him to the punch for once. After quickly rinsing and stacking the plates in the dishwasher, I made my way back to the movie.

I stopped short when I saw Ben tucked into Abel’s side. Tillie was standing in front of them. “I wanted to sit by Abel!” Her lower lip jutted out in a ferocious pout that never worked on me.

Abel looked around at the couch, and then he and Ben scooted over. “You can take this side.”

Sucker.

From the sidelines, I watched as my twins cuddled Abel on the too-small couch. Tightness seized my chest. His arms spread across the back of the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world to watch a silly movie with my kids.

This is what Jared has to live without.

He may never realize it, but my ex didn’t deserve their love.

Abel did. He was patient and kind and accepting of them, just as they were. A swell of happy tears threatened to spill over my lashes, and I had never been more grateful for the darkness of a living room.

“Sit here, Mama!” Ben patted the small sliver of couch where my seat used to be.

I smiled. “Are you sure there’s room?”

The kids wiggled, sandwiching Abel between them. I barked a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “If you say so.”

The film was surprisingly heartwarming and fun—at least the parts I could pay attention to. Despite Ben between us, I was painfully aware of Abel’s proximity. His muscular arm stretched across the back of the couch, and the warmth of his hand radiated to the back of my neck. When a well-timed jump scare happened, we all laughed, and I felt the soft brush of his fingertips at the nape of my neck.

I swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. His fingers twined with the tiny hairs that had fallen from my updo. The pads of his fingers stroked my skin until I felt as if I would burst into flames. I couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe—for half the movie. All I could think about was how much warmth and comfort I found in his touch.

Feeling brave, I peeked across the couch at him. His dark eyes were forward, focusing on the movie as the swashbuckling hero courageously led his team into a dangerous cave. I studied Abel’s strong profile—his high cheeks, his straight nose, the stubble on his jaw.

Tingles rushed through me as I recalled the delicious scrape of that stubble across my inner thigh. His fingertips were toying with me, and my insides began to unravel. Something so simple and wonderfully domestic as a family movie with the kids hit me in the chest.

It could always be like this.

I swallowed down the ridiculous thought and spent the rest of the movie ignoring the hum of my blood whenever Abel touched me.