Page 8 of Make Us Yours
“Oh yeah, it was. There was garbage all over the place, shoes and clothes were scattered everywhere. Piles of dishes in the sink and along the counters. The windows were so dirty you could barely see through them anymore. Don’t even ask me about the bathrooms.”
They all carry a horrid expression. “But that’s not the worst part…” I stop to make it a little more dramatic, even if it does deserve the dramatic pause.
“What can be worse than that?” Aubrey questions as she watches me take a sip of my refilled glass.
“Oh, sometimes I forget how sweet and innocent you are.” I giggle. “See, there were wrappers all around the couch, so I thought I’d take it apart to make sure there were none beneath the cushions.Big mistake.” I widen my eyes as I emphasize thewords.
“Oh God, please tell me there wasn’t rotten food there?” Morgan looks nauseous as she says it.
“Worse. Condoms. And not just one… Five!”
“Oh! That’s not too bad. We all know how sexually active those two are.” Cecilia shrugs like it’s no big deal. I don’t think she’s caught on completely.
“No, Cece. Used condoms… as in tied with a knot and dried cum at the end!”
“EWW!” they all say at once, pushing back from the kitchen island like the condoms are lying there.
“Okay, that’s nasty. Even for me,” Sam says with a revolted look.
“You aren’t the one who had to touch them! I don’t think I’ve ever washed my hands so many times in my life.” I shudder as my mind is brought back to the incident.Add buying THICK rubber gloves at the top of the list.
The baby monitor on the counter next to Sam starts producing babbling sounds, indicating that little Gracie is awake from her nap. Sam turns it off before pushing off the counter. “I’ll get the princess. You can finish this conversation without me. I think I’ve heard enough.” He laughs and heads up the stairs.
Dante rushes over to his mom, holding up his favorite miniature hockey stick. That boy carries that thing with him everywhere he goes. “Cie key?” he says to Cecilia.I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.
“No, baby. Gracie’s still too young to play hockey with you. But maybe Uncle Greyson will play when he arrives. We’ll ask him, okay?” she tells him in that sweet, motherly voice.
He drops his arm, then turns and walks back to the living room, where the rest of the toys lie.
“How do you understand what he says?” I ask her, impressed.
“You just pick up on the words and sounds they associate with things they hear. Cie means Gracie and key means hockey. He only recently started trying to say Gracie. It took me a full week to figure it out,” she informs us.Still pretty impressive.
The girls transition the conversation to hockey and how the guys are doing in the Stanley Cup Finals. I’ve never been much of a hockey fan, or a sports fan in general, so I sit back and watch them as they talk spiritedly.
You know how they say,‘Pretty people stick together’? That’s definitely the case for this group. Every one of them is gorgeous in their own way. Morgan looks like those blonde barbies you see in sorority houses with her golden hair, crystal blue eyes, and permanently pink-tinted lips. Although, she’s nothing like those sorority witches.
Cecilia has bright hazel eyes, rich chocolate-brown hair that holds perfect naturalwaves, and a killer rack that’s hard not to notice. She’s also the shortest in our group, standing at five-foot-two, while her husband is a six-foot-four giant. When they stand next to each other, the height difference is pretty comical.
Then there’s Emma, who looks like she belongs on every fashion magazine cover. A natural redhead, with a perfect physique and piercing green eyes. Her hair always holds a glossy, vibrant look, most likely from all the expensive products she puts in it. She’s the fashion icon of our group, with her expensive designer clothes and a limitless bank account. But we’ve come to find that she actually has a soft spot for vintage clothes, and is one of the most humble and giving people we know.
Even the boys are in a different league, all tall with delicious muscles you want to lick like an ice cream cone. Hell, even their babies are adorable.
That only leaves me. The tall skinny girl, who changes her hair to a ridiculous color every month, with multiple piercings and tattoos. The badass, as I’ve been called. Because apparently putting dirty, perverted men who think the world belongs to them in their place makes me a bad bitch. I guess they have a point, since most women would just let it slide or ignore it. But I can’t. I’ve let too much go ignored in my life to keep letting it happen.
I’ll never be that girl again.
The front door opens, letting us know of a new arrival, and Greyson stops in his tracks when he finds us all standing in the kitchen, drinking from his wine collection. Apparently during my moment of observation, two more glasses were taken out for Morgan and Brey.
“You okay, Ford?” Cecilia watches him skeptically.
“Yup, it just hit me how strange it is to come home and find a group of women in my kitchen, where none of them are my girlfriend or daughter.” We all giggle at his comment.
He’s right; it must be weird coming home to find a bunch of people inside when no one was actually home to have them over. But that’s just how we are—we’re family and all their homes are our homes too.
“Oh, come on, Grey. With all the stories I’ve heard from Aubrey, you should be used to finding random women in your home.” I wink at him teasingly.
From what I’ve been told, Greyson used to be a pretty big womanizer, with different women in his bed every night. Although that all changed when he found out he had a six-month-old daughter with one of his conquests.
