Tied in Knots: A Tied Together Novella Read Free

idea that he might have meant getting down and funky, but the fact that he was also grabbing his crotch like it was about to fall off indicated he wanted to get down and dirty on the toilet.
    “You need to head to the bathroom before we go out. While I’m enjoying your dance moves, I don’t want you to pee in the car.”
    Ethan stopped his interpretive dancing and stomped to the bathroom with a scowl on his face. “This blows,” he said with a tiny little lisp.
    “Don’t say that when Papa is around. He won’t be too thrilled with that language.” I followed his pouting little body into the bathroom and pulled the stool close to the toilet for him to stand on.
    “Can I say piss off?”
    “Yeah, you might want to keep that one under wraps, too. In fact, don’t talk in front of Papa. We’ll pretend you came down with some mysterious illness that only allows you to speak to one parent.” I helped him climb up onto the stool, and then he turned to look at me.
    “What?” I asked.
    He cleared his little throat. “Ahem.” He pointed to the door.
    “No, I mean don’t talk to Papa.”
    “Daddy, privacy!”
    “What? Since when do you need privacy? How do I know you aren’t going to aim and shoot the gun all around the bathroom? How am I going to make sure you shake enough times so you don’t end up with a wet mark on your pants?”
    “I’m telling Papa we talk guns.”
    I narrowed my eyes and pointed my finger at him. “You play dirty, little dude. I will let you pee in peace.” He giggled and dropped his pants as I walked out the bathroom door.
    “Close door!” he called.
    “It’s called a compromise, son. Get used to it.”
    A second later, I heard opera-like singing from the bathroom along with the sound of pee hitting the toilet water. Hey, whatever got the pipe starting to drain was okay by me. Not too long ago, Ethan was obsessed with watching Scooby-Doo. When he pooped, he would always yell out a zealous Zoinks ! when he completed the deed.
    In my pocket, my phone went off with the song “At Last” by Etta James. It was our wedding song, and every time I heard it, it made me think of Brandon waiting proudly for me in his tuxedo at the end of the aisle.
    Lost in my memories, the phone stopped singing by the time I was able to fish it out of my pocket. I looked at the lock screen; it displayed a picture of Brandon and me from our wedding. The shot was of the back of the Rolls Royce convertible we had rented for the day. Brandon and I had sat on top of the backseat and looked over our shoulders as we waved to the camera and our families and friends. Brandon’s excitement couldn’t be contained that day, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. I remembered feeling overwhelmed with emotion, and I’d kept repeating to myself: This man was mine forever.

    “ W hat are you up to ?” I leaned in, grabbed the lapels of his tux, and brought him in for a quick kiss. The Rolls had just dropped us off at home after the reception.
    “Who said I have anything planned?” Brandon mumbled against my lips.
    I pulled back and looked at my husband. “Husband…” I couldn’t stop calling him that. “You don’t have to say anything, but I know you well enough to know that we are not sleeping here tonight.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “You saw the bags I packed, didn’t you?” Before I could answer, he grabbed the sides of my abs under my tux jacket. He squeezed my sides, which sent me into a fit of laughter.
    “No… I… didn’t,” I tried to say between laughs. He took pity on me and stopped the assault.
    “Then how did you know?”
    “Umm, a little redheaded birdie told me.”
    Brandon rolled his eyes. “Of course, Moxie told you. Why do I tell her anything when I know it will just travel back to you?”
    “If it makes you feel any better, she put up a fair fight when I held her favorite donut hostage.”
    Brandon huffed and shook his head, but all that was quickly replaced with a smile. “She