Katie quickly steps to me and gives me a warm hug. “I always hoped this would happen for you; I was starting to think you were a lost cause.” I pat her back, a little thrown off by her emotional outburst and drastic shift in moods.

“Um, thanks, I think,” I tell her, moving away from her grasp.

“If she really is that great, though, please don’t fuck it up. I would prefer we keep the Brooks brothel closed; I wouldn’t be surprised if there is an “‘I slept with Brooks Ryan’” support group out there somewhere,” she laughs lightly, slugging me in the arm.

I pretend to be wounded, and feign insult, which she only laughs at. “Thanks a lot.”

She and I both walk back to the front entrance where I open the door for her, and again thank her for bringing Grace home and running my errands.

“Anytime, Brooks, you know that.” She exhales deeply and smiles once more before turning and walking down the front steps towards her car.

I close the door just as Vivian and all three children skip down the stairs, laughing about some giraffe joke Blake has shared. I turn and watch them giggle and bump into each other; Vivian’s smile is bright, and when her eyes meet mine, it feels like I melt into them. This is my family. She is my family.

Vivian

Brooks is watching us move down the stairs, and every little butterfly that I thought I had gotten a grasp on has escaped from the net and is bouncing around my stomach. His look is one of admiration and desire, and if there were no children in the room with us, he would be taking our date night from PG to X-rated within seconds. I breathe through the anxiety and smile at him.

“Hey, guys,” he says, returning my grin. “How about we go into the kitchen first and pick out dinner, and then we can narrow down the movie options.”

He meets us at the bottom of the stairs and takes my hand to lead me to the kitchen. His thumb brushes along my knuckles, and the intimate touch calms my tension.

There are several dinner choices displayed on the counter top; the man has definitely prepared for the evening. “Okay, we have spaghetti, pot pie, chicken patties and potatoes, tacos, or Hamburger Helper,” Brooks says as he travels down the line like Vanna White, offering up each kid-friendly option.

I scan the counter, eyeing my arch nemesis, hoping the kids don’t select most kids’ go-to dinner of choice. Hamburger Helper and my stomach don’t get along well; I have actually banned the product from our house. I have an iron stomach, but when I even smell the little boxed wonder, my stomach revolts, and I experience the worst case of what I’ve come to call Momentary Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

Remembering my children’s tendency towards unfiltered verbal diarrhea, I’m hoping to direct everyone’s attention away from the demon noodles. Before I can get a word in though, my lovely daughter decides it’s the perfect time to protect my stomach instead of my pride.

“We can NOT have Hamburger Helper,” she loudly declares for the group.

“What? Why not? I love it.” Grace asks.

“Mom says Hamburger Helper is the devil,” Blake adds, trying to clarify, and everyone turns to me to explain further. I feel my hands begin to sweat as my face flushes with embarrassment and my eyes pin my son in place. He raises his hands in defense, as if my glare will physically harm him.

I grab the box off the counter, staring at the back label, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Brooks. “I don’t think that I have ever actually said that it is the devil.” I quickly look to Blake again, daring him to contradict me. “I just said that I don’t really like it, and since I’m the one that does the cooking, I choose not to make it.” Seems like a plausible explanation, and I’m hoping the topic is dropped until I look at my second unfiltered child to see the wheels in her head grinding away.

“No, Mom, Blake is right! I remember. That one time we had it for dinner, you spent the whole night in the bathroom with a tummy ache, and the next day you said Hamburger Helper was never allowed in the house again because it gave you diarrpea.”

Mayday! Mayday! I feel my eyes widen; I’m not sure what I could even say to save the moment. I am completely mortified, and when I hear Grace laughing, I know that our sexy evening has not only nose-dived, but has completely crashed and burned.

“It’s not diarrpea, silly,” Grace corrects through giggles.

“It is at our house. When Mom locked herself in the bathroom, it sounded like she was having a water gun fight in there. So now, we call it dia-ppp-a, because of the sounds she made,” Blake explains. It clicks for Grace, and she bursts into even bigger hysterics. Yup, this is completely awesome; I now know why some animals eat their own young.

I see Brooks struggling to keep it together; his hand is balled up in front of his mouth, and I’m just waiting for the explosion of laughter. “Go ahead; I know you want to laugh. I’ll put you out of your misery. Go ahead, ha ha, laugh it up,” I say as I lightly punch him in the bicep.

He grabs my arm and pulls me into a bear hug of an embrace. “I’m sorry; I won’t laugh, and we can take the devil food off the list of options for dinner. You have to admit, though; it’s kind of funny.”

I look up at him, his ear-to-ear grin shining down at me, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, okay, it’s a little funny. But seriously, no Hamburger Helper, or the humor of this conversation will become tragically real.”

“All right, deal,” he says as he snuggles into my neck and kisses the skin below my ear. His attempt at calming my humiliation works and I relax into him, absorbing the moment. He then releases me and grabs the spaghetti noodles, tossing the closed package to Blake. “So, spaghetti it is!”

Vivian

After my dignity is restored and we make it through dinner, we all find spots in Brooks’ media room to enjoy the movies. Of course, there is a buffet of junk food, and Brooks helps the kids make a massive fort to camp in during the films. By the second movie, all three have fallen asleep. We debated whether or not to just leave them, but in the end, we figure that Blake and Emma might get scared or lost if they wake up in the middle of night.

So, one-by-one Brooks carries them to their rooms. My heart melts watching each one lay their head on his shoulder and burrow into his neck.

Seeing Blake and Emma react so well to Brooks and Grace puts some of my fears to rest, but it has done nothing to ease the guilt. I am deep in thought when Brooks finally returns, and it isn’t until he grabs my hand that my thoughts are entirely interrupted.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go upstairs; everyone is settled,” he says, pulling me off the couch.

I wrap both of my arms around his and rest my head on his shoulder, allowing him to lead me up to his bedroom. I halt us in front of my door, though, and I insist that I need a few minutes to get ready for bed. He agrees to return to his own bedroom to wait for me, and when he turns to leave, for a split second I contemplate staying in my room for the night instead of going to him. But then he looks over his shoulder at me, his sapphire blue eyes calling to me, and his smile scorching me. “Don’t be long, Red,” he says as he slides past his doorframe and into his room.

I mop up the puddled mess of myself off the hallway floor, and enter my room with a new resolve; I must keep myself under control when in his swoon-worthy presence. I quickly slip out of my jeans and top and replace it with a simple tee shirt and boy shorts. I forgo the lingerie. I think that by wearing it, it ups the pressure, and I don’t think I can handle anymore sexual tension between the two of us, or be strong enough to not be sucked into the heat of the moment.