The bike engine noise slowly got louder, indicating someone was definitely heading in our direction. I was so close, my body heating and my fingers clenching, when he stopped—just freakin’ stopped.
“Tell me,” his gaze was intense, and the smallest sign of a smirk crept across his face. He twitched his dick, persuading me further.
“Alright! Alright!” I shouted. “It was fucking ‘Home among the Gumtrees’.”
He practically mashed his mouth to mine and thrust into me hard, deep and fast until I was shouting again, only this time it had absolutely nothing to do with a stupid song. Bryce, too, groaned with his release as the bike approached only a minute or so away. He pulled out of me and zipped up his jeans while I reached down and pulled up my shorts, fastening them in no time at all.
He began to laugh.
“What? It’s not funny, you’re not funny. Don’t ever threaten me with not coming again.”
“Home among the Gumtrees’? Really? That’s fucking awesome.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up.”
Just as I smoothed my hair down, Nate rounded the corner on his bike with Charli on the back. Fuck, that was close...too close. He cut the engine and they both climbed off.
“Hey, ratbags. What you doin’?”
“Nanny said that dinner will be ready soon.”
“Okay.” I suddenly got an idea. “Hey, you two come here.” I motioned them over to the tree. “Find yourself a stick like this,” I said, holding up a pointy branch. “You too,” I instructed Bryce. He frowned a little in question, but did what he was told.
I started scratching my name into the tree trunk.
“What are you doing Mum?” asked Charli.
“I’m adding a new entry to my tree diary,” I answered. “Scratch your name here.” I pointed to a spot close to where I had finished writing my name. “You too,” I said to Nate and Bryce. All three of them stood there and tattooed their name to my tree. I finished off by writing ‘were here 2013’.
I smiled.
Charli happy-danced.
Nate said, “That’s kind of dumb.”
And Bryce hummed “Home among the Gumtrees” as he kissed my head and subtly placed his hand on my belly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Family dinner at the Blaxlo house was always eventful, this particular night being no exception. Every time Jen or Steve placed food in their mouth, the twins would cry, having some kind of baby radar that said ‘Mummy and Daddy are having me-time, quick intervene’.
Livy sent all things that were a shade of green from her plate onto the floor, and Nate unsuccessfully tried to roll his Brussels sprout onto Charli’s plate unnoticed. Charli then vocally expressed that it wasn’t hers and not so subtly tossed it back onto his plate. I had to laugh when Dad performed the same manoeuvrer as Nate, rolling his onto Mum’s plate. But unlike Nate, Dad succeeded then basked in his victory—Mum was none the wiser. I honestly didn’t know why she persisted in cooking the things, because Steve had passed his to Jen—who grudgingly ate them—and Jake had also pushed his aside. Mum and I were the only ones who actually liked them, together with Bryce who happily ate three.
Jake—mouth full and all—voiced his appreciation of Mum’s new style of roast chicken. “Good chook Mum. What’d ya do, buy it from the shop already cooked?” He gave her a teasing smile.
“No,” she defensively snapped. “It’s Bryce’s recipe thank you very much. He showed me how to do it.”
Jake stopped his fork midway to his open mouth. “You cook?” he addressed Bryce, a hint of a mocking smile creeping across his face.
“Yes, he does,” I interjected before Bryce could answer, “and he’s very good at it. Maybe you should get a lesson. You might actually succeed in keeping a girlfriend if you too, possessed such a skill.”
Steve, Jen and Dad burst into laughter.
Mum gave Jake the ‘your sister has a point’ look.
Livy threw another piece of broccoli on the floor; thinking we were laughing at her.
“Olivia. No, naughty girl.” Jen scolded.
And, the twins began to cry again.
***
Not too long after dinner, Jen and Steve took the kids to bed, clearly wanting to get all three of their children safely to the land of nod.
“See you in the morning,” she called from the bedroom door. “Don’t forget to set an alarm.”
“I don’t need to,” I answered. Then, registering her baffled look, I pointed to my tummy, indicating that Baby Clark and my frequent toilet visits were the reason why.
“Ah yes, baby bladder,” she smiled.