Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

I didn’t notice anyone. Not until I turned in a frustrated huff and ran into a wall. Since I was in the road, it seemed like an odd place for someone to suddenly build a wall. Unless a cartoon coyote built it to trick a roadrunner, of course. Not to mention, walls didn’t have arms that tried to reach out and steady me before I dodged them. They also weren’t made of solid muscle.

Is there another model running around here? Because that’s the kind of scenery I’d enjoy way more than the rose bushes. From a distance, of course.

This is just a fantastic way to die. Choking to death on my own spit in front of a hot guy named Ward who goes by Hollywood. Perfect. While I was happy to stand there, begrudging my luck in life and death, Hollywood wasn’t. His panicked gaze dropped to my stomach, like I was going to cough until my baby shot out of me, torpedo style.

There was only so much I could resist. I was only so strong. Only human. Sure, the hot man with the dimples and the wink was persuasive. But it was the promise of cheese that did me in.

MRS. BUTTERWORTH, STILL A SYRUP SLUT

“Naked with the cardboard cutout?” “Gets worse,” I freely admitted. I had no shame. “Worse? Were there unfortunate papercuts?” I hissed and shifted in my seat, the phantom pain at that thought feeling damn real. “He was asleep on the cutout while spooning the actual bottle. And there was syrup…” O’s gaze pointedly dropped before coming back up. “Coating places.”

What the fuck is that smell? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Beck was nearby, burning nipples.

my brain couldn’t comprehend the idea of cauliflower being a steak. No way in hell. “You tried to make a vegetable into a steak?” I asked, fuckin’ horrified. I just walked out of an inevitable murder scene, but this is the true crime.

“Uh, Ward…” When his worried gaze shot to me, I tipped my head to the bottle of Mrs. Butterworth. “Is it awkward seeing your ex?” “Ha. Ha. Fuckin’. Ha. Knew you were gonna give me shit.”

Ward was armed with a gun and wore someone else’s blood. It must’ve been the day for red. Because what else was red? Flags. Lots of them. But I must’ve been colorblind because I ignored them all.

Many men and women would prefer the kind of no-strings arrangement that entailed no post-sex hangout. To come and then go. Jizz and then jet. Ejaculate and then evacuate. Blow the load and then hit the road.

“I love spicy food.” “I know.” He knows. Of course he does. “Except the heartburn.” Shifting me to the side, he pulled something out of his pocket and set it on the table. Antacids. “I know,” he repeated. Not just does he know. He knows. And not just am I in big trouble. I’m in huge trouble.

“If you think I want anyone but you, you haven’t been paying a fuckin’ lick of attention.”

It took less than a minute for her breath to even out, but I stayed awake. ’Cause under my palm, Squish rolled and kicked. And I didn’t wanna miss any of it.

I liked the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. I loved how she looked at me when she let her guard down and allowed herself to do it. I fuckin’ loved the way she looked at me when I was naked, inside her, making her come, or any combination of the three. But I wanted her to look at me with the same open longing she had for the various baked goods. Christ, I’m getting jealous of dessert. Sad, man. Just pathetic.

“The baby’s not mine.” I thought about the tiny face on the ultrasound. “But the baby is mine.”

Before I even knew it, I was walking toward her, drawn like a moth to a flame. Or a moth to a bug zapper if I couldn’t get her to take a chance on me. ’Cause that rejection would kill, slow and painful. When I got closer, the scene unfolding on the couch also hit me in the empty stomach and resentful taste buds. There she sat with O, thick as fuckin’ thieves. Thieves who were eating the cupcakes we were supposed to share. “You gave her my halves,” I accused, fighting a smile.

Every damn time she laughed, she’d tilt her head back and look at me. Like she wanted to make sure I was in on it. Like she wanted to share her happiness with me.

“Hold her like a baby,” I said. “I’ve never held a baby.” “Neither had I. You don’t see me bitching.” I thought for a moment. “Hold her like your edibles just kicked in, and she’s the last burrito in the world.” Instantly, he tucked her closer to his side. “There ya go.”

“Knowledge is power. It’s not homework if you love what you do. Having fun isn’t hard if you’ve got a library card. Yeet bad grades into the abyss. STEM is a bop. Get your college transcript snatched.”

“Thanks for coming home safely to me.” Fuck. Fuck. I rolled us, curling myself around her. “Always, baby.” For the rest of my life.

As far as I’m concerned, she,” I put my hand on her stomach, “is my baby. And I’ve felt that way for longer than you’re gonna wanna hear.”

Each time he took her in his arms, my heart melted. My belly warmed. My oh-so-sexy gauze underwear-slash-diaper was wet with my arousal. Or they would’ve been had I not just given birth. I wasn’t that crazy. I watched him put his nose to hers. Okay, I may have been that crazy.

She didn’t feel like an Ivy. “What’re you thinkin’?” I pulled on the blank face that I rarely used. “Teddy. You know. In honor of the teddy bears.” I wished I had a camera to capture the look of horror on my husband’s face. I knew he was trying to suppress it so he didn’t hurt my feelings, but the creepy bear fear was too strong.