Fake Fiancée for Dad’s Best Friend by Gena Snow

Epilogue

Vivian

 

 

 

Seven years later

 

I wake with a kick in my belly.  I groan and open my eyes. I’m facing the window, and I can tell it’s still dark outside. I try to go back to sleep, but the baby won’t let me.

“Let mommy sleep, please.” I pat my tummy and murmur.

And then I hear my husband whisper from behind. “This one is a morning baby,” he spoons me, wrapping my belly with his large hand.

The baby quiets down, and I drift into sleep. When I open my eyes again, it’s dawn. Alex’s strong arm is still holding me, and I feel his hard center against my butt cheek. Immediately, my lady bits wake with pregnancy libido. I grab his hand and move it to cup my breast while rolling my hip to grind his morning wood.

Alex grunt. “Is my horny girl awake already?”

“Yes,” I coo. “And she’s hungry.”

Knowing my ravenous appetite, he doesn’t make me wait. He kisses the nape of my neck while squeezing my swelling breasts. And then he pushes my gown up and strokes my hips and my ass.

“Wow, we’ve got a Nile flooding down there, wife,” he teases me as if it’s even news.

I giggle. “Of course, husband. That’s why I’m so fertile.”

My original plan was to start having babies after I turned thirty, but thanks to my virile husband and my fertile Nile, I’m bearing my third child at twenty nine.

“You’re my goddess,” he murmurs while wading through my feminine river with his long finger.

“I need you, now, please!” I beg. “We need to hurry because the little ones will be up soon.”

I haven’t finished my sentence when he fills me to the hilt with his thick shaft. I let out a satisfying moan. Thank God for penises! I mean, Thank God for Alex, my billionaire boss and my sexy husband.

Our fake marriage seven years ago became real. Alex lived with me in Paris for a year before we moved back to the U.S. I’ve been working for Trend ever since then, although I mostly work at home because I’m also a full-time mom.

After the birth of Darlene, our first daughter, I also started a clothing line for little girls and named it after her.

“Aah!” I cry out my orgasm when my body spasms.

Alex grunts and comes soon after. He keeps thrusting as if it feels too good to stop.

“Thank God for pregnancy hormones,” he murmurs against my neck.

“Is that why you keep getting me pregnant?”

He laughs. “No, baby. The reason is that’s the only way I can live inside you every second, day and night.”

Oh, Go. I already want him again. I’m about to suggest just that when I feel a rapid succession of kicks, and we both laugh.

“Is he complaining?” I say.

“Probably. Hey, keep it down, Mom and Dad. I’m trying to get some sleep here!” Alex mimics a baby’s voice.

I giggle. “Sorry, little one. Mommy’s horny and it’s your fault!”

We’re still laughing when the doorknob turns and we quickly pull away from each other. Our six-year-old daughter Darlene and four-year-old son Andy run toward us.

While Andy jumps onto his daddy, Darlene grabs my arm and demands, “Mommy! Get up, please!”

“What’s the hurry?”

“I want to make a different dress for Barbie.”

“What’s wrong with the one we made the other day?”

“It isn’t pretty enough.”

“Okay,” I sigh and sit up. I was hoping I could work on a new design today.

 

After breakfast, Andy takes his drawing lesson with his daddy on the balcony while Darlene and I work on Barbie’s new clothes. My daughter has gotten my passion in fashion design.

“So, sweetheart, what kind of dress do you want Barbie to have?” I ask her.

“Mmm,” she thinks for a second. “A mermaid dress.”

“Okay. Why don’t you sketch it out so Mommy can draw the pattern?”

She does it quickly and draws a Barbie wearing a halter top and a long skirt that flares on the bottom.

I draw and cut out the pattern pieces on white sticker paper while letting Darlene choose among my fabric scraps. And then, I make her trace and cut out the pattern on the fabrics.

Hours later, we turn Barbie into a mermaid in a pink top and a purple skirt.

Darlene grins as she hugs the doll. “She’s beautiful! Thank you, Mommy!”

That smile melts me right away, and I forget my earlier chagrin.

 

Darlene and I go out to the balcony to check on Alex and Andy, and I’m delighted to find a colorful landscape picture done by markers. The central park in Andy’s drawing is more brilliant than the actual one in front of us. Unlike Alex's paintings over the years, Andy’s picture has so many details, including birds and flowers, not to mention people and dogs.

He might have better eyesight than his father or a more active imagination.

Anyway, seeing the picture, I get an idea.

“We should all go down to the park,” I suggest.

“Are you sure?” Alex asks. “What about your project?”

“Oh, it could wait,” I say.

 

It’s a weekend and the park is crowded, but we find ourselves a private little spot. I spread a blanket on the grass and let the kids chase each other around.

Soon after we sit down on the blanket, Alex’s phone rings, and it’s Karen calling.

“How are my grandkids?” she asks as soon as we see her on the screen.

“They’re fine. We’re in the park.”

Alex takes the phone and moves closer to the kids so their grandma can talk to them.

 

The incredible thing is that we found out just months ago when we were visiting his parents that they knew the whole thing was fake from the beginning.

“We knew you were John’s little girl,” Mike blurted out when he had a drink too many. “Your dad showed us your picture when he visited us not long before Alex brought you home. And the fact you kept it a secret from us told everything.”

Alex and I stared at each other, agape for a second. It all made sense. It explained why Karen and Mike didn’t seem to be bothered by the absences of my dad at the engagement party and during their subsequent visit to New York.

“Wow, Mom and Dad, you were the best actors on earth!” Alex said.

Karen rolled her eyes. “We weren’t acting. We liked Vivian and we sensed the chemistry between you. We knew you were meant to be together, so we decided to make it happen.”

Needless to say, we felt foolish like a pair of teenagers got caught lying. But at the same time, the knowledge of the fact made us feel immensely better about what we’d done.

 

While Karen speaks to her grandchildren, Alex wraps his arm around me and kisses me. “I’m so glad I went to your dad for help seven years ago.”

He’s talking about our fake engagement again. “Me, too,” I say and kiss him back.