Plight(70)

"Meet our daughter, Lots."

Pugly barked.

Puglyette barked back.

And Danielle squealed and clapped again.

"Isn't she just adorable?"

I couldn't help but laugh, my heart pounding in my chest over the insane surprise Danielle had orchestrated together with knowing my shirts will never be safe again.

She squatted down and picked up the cute little ugly dog/bat, Puglyette licking and squirming like crazy.

"Hello, my beautiful girl. Did you miss me? Yes, you did. Yes, you did. Come and meet your daddy." She placed her in my arms. "Here, hold our princess while I untie the rings."

If you've ever held a fish out of water or a hose with full water pressure, then you'll understand what it felt like to hold Puglyette.

"Okay, it's time to go to Uncle Chris and be a good girl with your brother." Danielle took her from me and carefully shoved her into Chris' arms. She licked his face and nipped his nose.

I liked her. She would definitely be a daddy's girl.

Handing me her ring, Danielle composed herself once again and nodded to Sarah.

"Okay, Elliot, as you place the ring on Danielle's finger, please repeat after me: With this ring I marry you and offer a symbol of my everlasting love."

I did as I was told, repeating what she'd said as I slid the ring onto Danielle's finger.

"And, Danielle, as you place the ring on Elliot's finger, please repeat after me: With this ring I marry you and offer a symbol of my everlasting love."

Danielle did the same, sliding my wedding ring onto my finger. I looked at it for a minute, sunlight catching the platinum band and illuminating its brilliance, its purpose  …  my purpose.

I smiled and twirled it twice.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, and adorable dogs, Elliot and Danielle have declared before me and before you all that they will live together in marriage, they have symbolised it by joining hands, taking vows and by exchanging rings; therefore, I declare them both to be Husband and Wife. Elliot, you may kiss your bride."

Pulling Danielle to me, I caressed her cheeks, leaned in and kissed my wife  …  my life.





Thirteen years. That's how long Dean and I have been married. Thirteen years of ups, downs, forwards, backwards, whirlywhirls and somersaults. Whatever the obstacle we'd faced during that time, we'd nailed it. And not just nailed it; we'd MacGyvered the arse out of it.

Our matrimonial knot was tied in front of friends and family in a large Catholic church before God on a scorchin' hot December afternoon. Skin was tacky. Napes were damp. And underneath my dress I'd had a makeshift steam oven between my legs that, had I baked a cake in, would've put Betty Crocker to shame. But despite the awful heatwave we'd experienced that day, I'd still rocked my white halter-neck, taffeta wedding dress like nobody's business. Yep, Natasha Jones - that's me - had been the most beautiful human-meringue to have ever lived.

The perfect bride at the perfect wedding to the perfect man.



       
         
       
        

Smiling as I drove my car into the driveway of our house, I thought back to that day and to just how far Dean and I had come. Like most couples, we'd started out by working our arses off to save for a deposit on a home, soon after becoming proud owners of a gigantic mortgage. We'd parented a cat and then a dog - our safe and happy furry test subjects successfully proving that we could try parenting a real baby human. Enter said baby human number one: William, who was born two years after we married, followed by baby human number two: Thomas, three years later.

My boys.

I loved them.

But they near destroyed my vagina.

How the tunnel of Tash still operated after pushing out those beasts was beyond me, and yet it somehow did. In fact, it was scheduled to operate later tonight. That's right  …  bring on anniversary sexytimes. Bring on a candlelit dinner, a full body massage, a hot steamy bubble bath, schnappies and a fuckalicious fuckfest with my man. Bring on the rarity that is a childfree evening. Bliss.

Grinning devilishly, I got out of my car and skipped to my front door, waving at my neighbour before pausing and pulling out my phone to check my hair and makeup on the selfiecam. I'd performed a rearview mirror beauty touch-up at the traffic lights and had even sprayed some deodorant on my armpits for added effect. And just because it was our anniversary, I'd de-fuzzed myself the night before.

All of myself.

Yes  …  Tashy's clam was no longer bearded.

Since giving birth, my window of horniness had shrunk from a floor to ceiling panel to a porthole on a tugboat  …  a toy tugboat. I'd gone from yee-haw to yee-naw and, quite frankly, I normally couldn't be bothered. Sex was boring. A chore. And I hated chores. It also involved getting naked - something else I hated.