Recovery by L. B. Simmons Read Free Book Online

than the first. “I don’t see the difference, but beauty, my dear Nycole, is in the eye of the beholder.” He places the tape in his hair and I can’t contain it any longer. I push the door open and giggle when Blake turns to face me. It’s sickening really, how he can still look breathtakingly sexy with a piece of crumpled duct tape hanging from a strand of his hair, swinging in front of his face.
    “I saw you, Mommy! But I didn’t tell!” Rylie jumps off his legs and attacks mine with a fierce hug before running out of the room, undoubtedly on a Sharpie hunt. Shaking my head, my eyes follow her down the hall before turning back to Blake. I totally should have put it on top of the fridge.
    Rolling onto his back, he threads his hands behind that gorgeous head of light brown hair, and as I watch his stomach muscles tighten under his shirt, I find myself wanting to sit right on top of him. “Mama, you should make one too. I bet yours will be perfect!” Kyndall extends her arm, purple tape in hand. “No, not right now, lovely lady. Pizza is about to arrive and then… fireworks !”
    “Fireworks!” I hear Rylie scream from the other room. Nycole and Kyndall jump up and run to join their sister, leaving slithers of tape all over the floor, along with the scissors. Because that’s safe.
    I sit myself down by Blake’s head and run my fingers through his hair. Removing the “bow”, I bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead before starting to clean up their mess. Grabbing my hand before I have a chance to do anything, he places a gentle kiss on my palm. “They should do that, you know,” Blake states softly as I extract my hand from his. Okay —the tape on the floor is really starting to bother me now.
    “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I do it all the time.” I use my nails to grab the edges before pulling it up from the carpet, along with a long brown strand of curly hair. Gross. How much hair is actually down here? Nevermind, I don’t want to know.
    Blake watches me for a bit. “I know you don’t mind, but they should do it, regardless.” His eyebrows lift, adding emphasis to his point.
    Gah! I so don’t feel like accepting parental suggestions right now. This is how things are in my house, the way they have been for a long time. If I don’t mind, what’s the problem? “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I respond. “They’ve always done this, Blake. It’s probably impossible to retrain them now anyway.” I’m starting to get aggravated with this whole situation.
    Blake sits up and tilts his head at me, narrowing his eyes. “Weird. They have no problem cleaning up after themselves when I ask them to. Maybe you should try it?”
    “Maybe.” I can feel my cheeks flush from irritation. Not wanting to fight, I speed through my cleaning spree and, while still seated, I lean over once again. When I place my lips onto his, his kiss is tight and unaffectionate.
    He’s pissed. Great. Now I’m pissed.
    Standing up, I wipe off my bottom—who knows how much Nycole and Kyndall hair attached itself while I was down there—and extend my hand to help him up. He accepts it, but doesn’t say a word as he leaves the room.
    What. The. Hell?
    I stay in their bedroom for a while, folding socks, hanging clothes, making the bed. Anything to avoid arguing with Blake. Once I run out of things to straighten and clean, I leave the room, my nose following the smell of the already delivered pepperoni and cheese pizzas. Stepping into the living room, I see Kyndall, standing in front of the T.V., mouthing—with perfect timing I might add—Gru’s lines from Despicable Me , when he announces his plan to steal the moon. Her movements and facial expressions are comical, and with everyone sitting on the floor picnic style, she is provided the perfect front row audience.
    Taking a seat beside Blake, we all watch the free entertainment. Arms over his propped knees, holding a slice of pizza, Blake’s face is