2. Is there something I'm not seeing?


AN/ Thanks for the amazing reception, you guys. Lovely to see a lot of familiar names commenting on the stories. Trust me, I read and appreciate each and every review on my stories so thank you. Anyhoos, more below :)

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"How was Tobe?" Alex asks after we'd finished the dishes and settled down on the sofa. The wine already half empty together with the cheese board resting on the coffee table before us.

I take a slice of Gruyere, "As exciting as any five year old would be at their first friend sleepover. You should have seen how exciting he was when they came round - he looked like he was going to explode right out of his skin."

Alex gave a short laugh, "Oh what a relief. I was actually beginning to worry he wasn't making any friends at that kindergarten. You know how sensitive he is."

"Hmmm, you'll be surprised to hear he was the one leading the little troupe, even held the only vote on what cake mix flavour was going to be used. It was all very undemocratic."

"I can only imagine how hard that must've been for you."

I swat her arm, "What? I don't want him turning into a little dictator."

"Jeez, relax Pipes, it's just five year olds being five year olds. If you ask me I'm glad he's able to stand his own ground. This is the same kid who was scared of his own shadow not so long ago, remember?"

I snuggle closer and let my mind drift to earlier times. It's almost alarming how fast time flies by - it felt like only yesterday when were going through the adoption process and finally bringing Toby into our lives. I still recall when Alex and I had spent almost an entire day deciding on what we should address ourselves as. Mommy or mom or mommy one and two. That had been the extent of our predicaments, which sounds so first world problem but like the bourgeois lesbian edition.

In the end we settled on mommy for me and mom for Alex.

You would have thought my mother would finally stop lamenting about my supposed meagre fertility prospects now that I adopted but no - if anything she was preaching more than ever. By the way she kept yelping about finite eggs and my rapidly ageing body - I should be stowed away in a retirement home in a year's time.

In all honesty, I have come to expect nothing from my parents - two attempts at reconciliation by inviting them for Thanksgiving and Christmas ( much to Alex's chagrin) had failed miserably.

The final straw had been during Christmas some years back when my father mildly suggested I was trying to make a political statement by being with Alex and had therefore in typical twisted Bill Chapman logic ruined the family reputation. As though the Chapmans were running an election and my gayness had truly fucked the opinion polls. It was narcissism at its finest.

I would have laughed hadn't I already cried in the bathroom. It's kind of pitiful but I sort of hoped the idea of Toby would have buffered at least some of my father's homophobic tendencies. I mean who didn't love kids right?

I quickly clear my mind and take a sip of my wine, " You know he was asking about you today."

"Really?" She's absently stroking my thigh, "That sounds ominous."

"No, no. He thinks you work in a toy factory."

That makes Alex laugh out loud, "What?"

"A giant toy factory that according to him is filled with chocolate and candy." I muse out loud, "I think he's mixing Toy Story with Charlie & the Chocolate Factory and somehow you're in it too."

"It must be my teddy bear like qualities that made him think that."

"Teddy bear like qualities?" I scoff, "Seriously what does that even mean?"

Alex takes another sip of wine and looks as though she's deep in thought before eventually answering, "I'm not sure actually." She tips her glass forward, half the contents dangerously sloshing near the edge, "I think I may be slightly drunk."

I stretch my legs out and watch Alex with curious amusement, her eyes a little out of focus and cheeks all flushed She had most definitely become a lightweight like me. It's about time she was brought down to my level of alcohol tolerance - which was just above zero. Seriously, all I had to do was step in and out of bar without a single drop of drink passing my lips and I'd be at risk of being charged with drink-driving.

Alex suddenly turns to me, face all conspiratorial, "In other news; our son has a crush on one of his fellow kindergartners."

"Woah, you're kidding right?"

"Oh yes. Tobes is a 21st century Danny Zuko from Grease." She holds her hand out for correction, "…But like the the miniature version."

I had to snort at that - trying to imagine Toby, our five year old trying to woo one of the other little five year olds. It was borderline ridiculous.

What do kids at that age even do to proclaim to their crush? Trade crayons and play in the same sandbox and shyly compliment each other on their Disney themed lunch boxes?

"How did you even find out?"

"Alex smiles, "He told me."

"He told you?" I parrot back, entirely unconvinced.

"I guess he just opened to me."

"What you mean is, you went all Dr Phil on him. No way did he spill that without being prompted."

She makes a face, "Fine, I was picking him up from school and I may or may not have seen him loitering beside Lindsay's daughter. Y'know the little girl with the ponytail? Anyway I saw him pass her one of his stuffed toys…the teddy bear we got him last Christmas."

"Bobo the bear?" I exclaim, "But he loves that one. That kid would die for Bobo."

"Well he clearly likes Lindsay's daughter more."

"If that's not cute I don't know what is." I poke Alex in the shoulder, "Well clearly someone's been taking lessons from his mom - taking after you and chasing all the ladies."

She grins, her smile softening into one of those trademarked smiles that always made me weak at the knees. "Well without that innate talent I wouldn't have got you."

"Is that so?"

"Totally."

Alex leans back and rummages behind the sofa and rather ceremoniously hands me a tiny stuffed bird. I recognise it to be a member of Toby's neglected stuffed toy population - his allegiance was known to change at the drop of a hat.

"I mean it's not quite Bobo the bear levels of appreciation but it does adequately profess my raging high school crush on you."

I decide to play along and accept the bird, keenly stroking its frayed fur, "Are you asking me out?"

"Oh we've done the whole high school dating thing already. I was actually asking you out to prom." She slowly closes the gap between us, advancing closer and closer, "Can you believe I've even gotten permission from my mom… y'know how late those things can get." She started nipping at my jaw, "You can't blame her though she's always been a worrier."

"Prom, huh?"

"Yeah...plus, that thing cost me like two weeks worth of pocket money so you sorta have to say…yes."

I lean forward and take Alex's glass of wine from her and carefully place it on the coffee table. My hands are softly running through her hair, my voice heavy and purposeful, "But I haven't even got a dress."

Alex bites her lips and now they're suddenly only inches away from my own. Paragraph 3.4: thou shalt not bite lips rustled around in my head because now I'm having to clear my mind of all garbage containing thoughts. But then meekly realise the trash man only collects on a Friday and today is Tuesday.

How inconvenient.

"No dress?" Alex asks softly, her index finger tracing my neck and just stopping short at the valley between my breasts, "I'm sure we can work something out."

My mouth is now all of a sudden Sahara desert levels dry. I didn't realise that a prom fantasy was something I ever needed in my life until right this moment. If only to upgrade my current real life memory of my then high school boyfriend Aaron Nash awkwardly asking me to prom via a phone call.

I watch Alex watching me with her gleaming eyes, and rapidly come to a conclusion, "Okay, I think that's enough of the slow burn."

I mean it was two am…I think I can safely assume no child (or three) would be walking in on us.

I roll over, climb onto her lap and without further fanfare rip open Alex's fly and plunge my hand in her depths, feeling the wetness of her arousal against my fingers. It seems my gamble paid off.

"Thank god..I was…beginning…to run out lines." She choked out, in between wildly rough kisses, her voice failing with every successive stroke of her clit.

"Oh god, Alex." I press my mouth against her ear, rocking against my own hand, "You…feel…so…good."

My pulse is thrumming in my ears and I'm scared I'm going to come without any form of contact so with my other hand grab Alex's and force it beneath my own panties. I nearly buckle from the sudden pressure, and involuntarily rock against the fingers that were now sending me into a new realm of sensations. We're both breathing frantically, swallowing up each other's gasps and moans with messy open mouthed kisses.

I can feel the pressure mounting, a fraction away from succumbing to a supernova of an orgasm. It's at the same time where I can feel Alex's breathing turn ragged, my fingers sensing the rising swell of her own peak.

"Oh jesus…oh god, Piper…pleaaaasseeee."

It's an implore rolled into a plead rolled into an uncut, all out beg that rapidly tipped me into a black hole of of my own never ending pleasure.

Collapsed against the sofa, Alex's hands still tangled around me, I add with breathless wonder, "This was definitely better than a phone call."

Alex glances at me, all red faced and rumpled hair, "What?"

"Nothing," I tilt my head and kiss her hard. "Nothing at all."

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It was my turn to pick Toby up from school today. I was already running late when I quickly dashed across the playground, dodging around the groups of waiting parents. The take of customers at Haven had been surprisingly large today and I'd just about finished on time. Hadn't it been for practically all of New York's traffic lights suspiciously turning red at my every approach I would have made it long before the school bells.

A soft wind ruffled through my hair, the first chill of fall beginning to creep its way in. Summer had already packed up its bag and had taken with it the little remaining sun and warmth.

Scanning around me, the school yard was already beginning to thin out, clusters of parents making their way toward the exits. I'm about to head off toward the school entrance, barely having taken a step - when I overhear my name, "It's quite clear who that kid likes more. I don't know who she's kidding with the whole super mom routine she thinks she's got going on."

Another voice, "You mean Chapman. The tall blonde one? Because I totally agree."

I have now come to a complete standstill, fiercely hoping they were talking about another tall blonde who happened to share my surname and was obviously a way worse mother than I was. I'm now right beside the oblivious group of conniving witches, and spot a ginger haired woman standing amongst them.

I near enough back away, silently cursing under my breath when I recognise Kirsty — so she was as bad of a driver as she was a backstabber. She also happened to be the wife of one of the board members at Excelsior and rumour had it (according to Alex anyway) her husband was having a sordid affair with his secretary.

Cliched much?

To be fair her stupid Barbour coats and extravagant rain boots she wore even in the blazing summers screamed cliched and entitled rich suburban mom. The cliched pair deserved each other.

I knew it was a spectacularly bad idea and nothing good would come out of it but I found myself moving back a little out of sight and perking my ears to listen out for more. Eavesdropping to conversations you were strictly not a part of was bad…even worse when featured subject was you. Astronomically bad when it was all negative.

Fuck that, these women had forfeited their right to privacy when they dragged me into their backstab party. I didn't ask to be invited yet here I was the centre of it all.

"…I heard the kid doesn't even like Chapperton." Another I didn't recognise added gleefully. "You know it's funny because I can sense the bad aura."

I could feel my breathing turn shallow, and it felt as though my lungs had shrunk to about the size of two dimes.

And Jesus Christ, numero uno in chapter one of the backstabbing rule book: at least get the fucking name of the victim right. On another day I would simply have rolled my eyes but my insides were currently clenched with such fury, my energy was directed elsewhere.

"…did they adopt?" It was asked with such dripping vitriol I'm surprised she wasn't standing in a pool of it. "I read adopted kids are less likely to bond with their parents."

This time a brunette chimed in, "He seems okay with her girlfriend, partner or whatever. Must be just her, poor thing."

My mothering skills was a delicate subject for me. By delicate I don't mean the cute flower delicate but cutting the wires of a bomb in its last remaining seconds delicate. Ever since Alex and I adopted Toby, I've been harbouring these constant fleeting thoughts of maybe I'm not good enough…maybe I'm not cut out for this role, the same way a student with a GPA average of 2.0 isn't going to get into into medical school, no matter how much they want it.

I've always been second-guessing myself, trying to tread the delicate balance between the yummy mommy and tiger mom approach. I watch Alex and how effortlessly easy she makes it seem, how well Toby and her gel off each other. It shouldn't be but it makes my heart swell with pride and aching jealousy all at once.

"…must be a genetic thing, happened to Rosie, remember." It was Kirsty again.

I shut my eyes realising I'm about a hairbreadth away from losing my temper. After all, there's a first for everything and I'm not ruling out the impending threat of a mass playground brawl that involved me throwing a few well deserved punches around. I mean was it even illegal to assault someone who rightfully deserved it? I think not.

My transformation into a full on she-Hulk was thankfully halted by my joint first place love of my life running up towards me with all the gusto and glee of someone genuinely happy to see me.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

My dark filled mind was all of a sudden freed up to accommodate the instant happiness soaring through me. Toby practically harpooned himself at me, his little body moulding right into mine. I ruffle his hair, and bent down to kiss his forehead. The smell of fresh baby shampoo and candy tickling my nose. Forget Xanax, baby shampoo is what keeps me tethered to sanity nowadays.

"Hey honey!" I scoop up his school bag, "How was your day?"

"Mommy, we did painting today." He he rolls open his finished artwork and points at the three scribbles I assumed were people at me, various watercolours overlapping each other, "That's you and mom, and me."

"Wow, that's awesome."

His enthusiastic outburst must have caught the attention of the gaggle of Range Rover driving hags who'd been spitefully judge and jurying my suitability of being a half-way decent mom. I was still not entirely against breaking my smack a bitch down embargo.

Their heads snapped in our direction - faced filled with cartoonish horror, "Oh Piper…we didn't realise you were here."

It was Kirsty. She definitely belonged to the category of Real Life Internet Troll.

I stand back up, running my hands through Toby's hair, and without looking mutter, "Yeah, well I am."

"How are you?" She stuttered, obviously trying to gauge how much of their tête-à-tête I heard. "You look really well."

My teeth are pressed together so hard I was at risk of biting through my own face. History dictates I'm really bad at keeping my emotions in check - no I leave that to Alex - she was the queen of the forever cryptic poker face. But oddly I found myself at this moment to be awfully calm and collected.

Alex couldn't give a shit what others thought of her and I don't think she even realised this but her blatant defiance of the so called status quo had earned her an unlikely dose of respect among the lady parent contingent.

I answer her with a flat tone, "I was doing really well but then I heard that apparently I'm a crappy mom. So now I'm not doing too well." I cock my head, "Does that answer your question, Kirsty?"

"No, no, it's not like that…" She stammered. Her face was all pale and sallow and she looked like she was about to faint. Good. I kinda hoped it was the kind where she lost control of her bladder and pissed all over herself.

I didn't bother answering her and instead gave them all an emphatic stare-down, curiously watching their faces churn and squirm. Hundred thousand dollars worth of plastic surgery moved before my eyes before I decided that was enough before marching off with Toby in tow.

I hadn't even reached the school gates before survival mom mode abruptly switched off. I could feel a heat dragging across my face, warningly heralding the oncoming deluge of tears. My fake smile that I'd managed to keep up through the ordeal instantly wiped away.

"Mommy?"

I bow my face away from Toby and busy myself with securing him in his car seat, my hands shaking so bad I could barely clasp the seat belt.

His little hand reaches out to me and he softly strokes my cheek, his own face a picture of almost adult like sympathy, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not sweetheart." I quickly wipe my face and try to give him my best mommy's okay smile but I cannot seem to fully commit to it.

"But you look so sad."

Taking a deep shaky breath I look him in the eyes trying hard in ignoring the tight discomfort tangling my insides.

It's funny, although not our biological child Toby had so many of our qualities, and right this moment his eyes; green and vivid like Alex's bore into me with that same intent regard she often had.

When I eventually find my voice, it comes out all choked and alien sounding, "Hey, hey…I'm fine. Mommy's just feeling a little emotional right now."

"What's em-otion-al?" He suddenly jerks up, his brain latching onto another revelation, "Is that bad?"

I'm suddenly too overwhelmed to keep talking and also I'm pretty sure I'm going to completely lose it in this parking lot so I quickly kiss him on the forehead and murmur, "It's getting late. Let's get you home, champ."

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By the time the following week rolls in I've managed to wring out the uneasy thoughts that had been bothering me. It seems my zeitgeist of the last week had largely revolved around feeling either sorry for myself which included avoiding Kirsty on the playground like I was in high school or something or wanting to spar with anyone who so much as looked at me the wrong way.

My emotions had been like a swaying pendulum on steroids but luckily the last few days I've seemed to hit stable ground at last. Plus I had our weekly lunch date with Alex to look forward to so at least that was something.

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It's a cool mid-week afternoon when I bounced onto the sidewalk and thanked the stars for surviving yet another dash through the daily city ruckus that was downtown New York. Traffic was as always mercilessly swarming. The afternoon lunch hour almost as busy as the usual five o clock rush, and as I dodged a few horn happy taxi drivers and nearly became one with a cyclist flying through an intersection did I realise today was no different.

Gerry's was predictably bustling and as I walked through the front doors, I'm suddenly afflicted with a heavy dose of nerves at seeing Alex.

At first glance appeared as though all the tables had already been taken. But then Gerry himself popped up from behind the counter when he spotted me entering the restaurant and smoothly guided me to an empty table with a reserved sign placed on it.

"Ah Miss Piper! I thought you were not coming today."

"Hey Ger," I air-kissed him on both cheeks before settling me into my seat, "I've been New-Yorked…that's why."

"New-Yorked?" He laughed as he took my coat and pulled the chair out.

"Y'know, the daily war zone of cars and tourists that is basically downtown Manhattan."

"Ah you'll get used to it."

"I've been living here for nearly a decade."

"Try thirty and I'm still not used to it." He turns around, "The usual?"

I settled into my seat, "Sure."

For the past three years, Alex and I have been frequenting Gerry's for our lunch meets. We tried to get together for lunch at least once a week by synching our mid-day breaks together.

Gerry's was a family run place, modestly tucked between an industrial high rise and a popular casino. But for lack of visibility it more than made up with its wholesome home-cooked Italian food and relaxing ambience. Gerry himself was an old-school big hearted Italian American, lightyears past retirement but firmly determined to serve food until his very last breath. Over the years we'd gone from his regulars to a sort of second family.

I was busy pouring over the drinks menu when a voice materialised behind me, warm breath tickling my ear, "Go for the Sauvignon. It goes well with pretty much everything."

"Jesus, fuck." I gave an unearthly yell, nearly jumping out of my seat just as the heads of a few elderly customers distastefully upturning their noses at my somewhat sacrilegious outburst.

"Really, Alex?" I protest without even turning my head because there was only one person who had rattled my heart one too many times.

"Seriously, babe, you have shocking observation skills. I practically walked by right under your nose."

"Well good job I'm not a detective then."

Alex scrunched up her nose and nuzzled my neck in a conciliatory manner and went on to kiss me open-mouthed, not giving two shits over the unlikely audience we seemed to be gathering.

She brushed past me and took the seat opposite, her eyes never leaving my difficult to maintain indignant face which was also trying to secretly recover from that breathtaking greeting.

"You have no idea how much that pouty face of yours turns me on." She leans forward, jaw twitching with barely concealed mirth, "It's what keeps me awake at night."

In spite of the frankly inconceivable amount of cocky, I can't help but forge my lips into a smile, 'Last I heard that's called insomnia."

"Insomnia? She sounds nice but she's not my type…whereas you."

"Type? Didn't realise you were looking for a blood donor."

"Oof," Alex tipped her head and shot me a faux-hurt look,"You're killing me with your words here."

I shrugged my shoulders, completely unapologetic. A much proper alternative than the other probably socially unacceptable thought of wanting to climb her like a tree right about now. I suspect the heartbreaker outfit of smart casual had a lot to do with that.

Our eyes drift to each other, "What are you thinking about right now?" Alex leans her elbows on the table, and adds emphatically, "Like right now?"

"Nothing much." I casually gesture at the menu I've been intently reading like it was the Bible's scripture itself. "Just the uh…the spaghetti'll be a good choice, don't you think?"

"You sure?"

"Am I sure about the spaghetti? Definitely."

I try to keep my demeanour all off-handed and lackadaisical but my gaze couldn't help but be lured into Alex's face and her teasing filth of a smile. I realise then my defiance is all in vain and she's obviously read my abhorrently horny mind.

She winks at me, "It's okay."

I gave a small laugh, like we hadn't just participated in the most obvious eye-fuckery ever. My eyes dart to the side as an electrical current zinged up my spine and I was but a second away from going up in actual flames. Meanwhile Alex sits back unperturbed and peruses the menu. She catches my eyes, and with the world's most smug smile - that by now I knew like the back of my hand - casually asks, "I'm having the soup today, you?"

"I think I'll stick with the spaghetti."

"Good choice."

What an asshole. She truly had mastered the art of seeming nonchalance.

Thankfully Gerry arrived and placed the starters on the table.

"Miss Alex! How nice to see you!"

"And you too Gerry. Is the old wife still giving you bother over that Corvette you bought?"

He scrunches up his nose in defiance, "She buys make-up and fancy perfumes. I buy cars. I don't really understand what the problem."

Alex answers, "She'll come round soon enough, don't worry."

When Gerry leaves us, I brush Alex's hand away from her wine glass. "Not so fast, aren't you driving?"

"It's one drink."

"That's what everyone says until they wrap their car around a tree and I cannot have you wrapping cars around trees."

I swipe the drink before meeting Alex's not so pleased expression, and add, "I on the other am on a limitless drink policy."

"Speaking of alcohol…your Ruski partner in crime asked me to pass this to you."

"What is it?" I narrow my eyes, watching Alex slide a small basket covered with foil to me. There's a sweet apple smell that hits my nose, giving me a clue to the contents of it.

"Hang on," Alex fumbles with her blazer pocket and reads off a scrap paper, "I had to write it down - no way in hell would I have remembered the name of it. Pirozhki."

"Oh!" I take a quick peek at the basket, "Red's been talking about this so much. I was beginning to think it's like unicorns; only heard of but never seen."

"She said you need to eat them warm."

My brows furrow together, "Also since when have you two been so pally?"

"Since I've helped the business expand into a multi-million dollar corporation. I've noticed people tend to become real grateful when that happens. Funny that." She swipes my drink, "One sip, I promise."

"Well I'll tell her thanks."

Alex sits back, "You know I've changed my mind about Red. She's got a good head on her shoulders and has the best work ethic I have seen in anyone. Must be a Russian thing…that and the strong sense of family they have."

Family

There goes the buzzword that causes me to swallow back a bile of acid that had suddenly shot up. Alex might as well have used a megaphone because it's now the only thing that's ricocheting against the walls of my ear canals.

You're over-reacting Piper, my brain muttered, and instead of calm, my throat tightened up and my chest ached. So much for hitting stable ground, more like flailing in stormy waters.

How do I even begin? Hey Alex, we're the talk of the playground. I overheard a bunch of the plastics discussing how crap of a mom I was - so like a good mom I nearly ran banshee berserk - ready to throw myself into probably the school's first playground brawl in it's three hundred year history.

I push the food around on my plate, my appetite abruptly banished and my mind once again forcing me onto an unsolicited journey through nightmare-ville: she's not fit to be a mom…it's in her DNA…parents of adopted kids…

I try to focus on the chatter of nearby diners because at this point I cannot bear to look Alex in the eyes. Unfortunately, the voices in my head were much louder and brash than the people around me.

Wine. Where's the wine? My hand blindly reaches for my glass but rising anxiety causes me to overshoot. Now I'm covered in red wine, the cold liquid seeping through my jeans as another liquid dared to seep out of my eyes. Jesus, I was such an over-dramatic mess.

It hadn't even occurred to me the glass had shattered, and it was only until one of the waiters was kneeling beside me and clearing the shards that I realised what had happened.

Blindly, I shove my chair back and shoot to my feet, "Alex…I think I'm going to go."

Alex stands up with me, her face slightly alarmed, "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." I ball my hands into fists, majorly angry at myself for the over the top theatrics. I always did have a knack in turning mole hills into mountains. "It's just…I've still have a lot of stuff to sort at work." It's the first time I look up, "You know how that place can get in the evening."

"But now? I mean can't it wait? We haven't even got our mains yet."

Hesitation strikes me down but prerequisite embarrassment prevents me from spilling the beans to Alex. I've no choice but to face her questioning stare. "I've…I just need to head back."

"You sure? Alex slaps a couple of dollar bills on the table and nods to Gerry who waves back at us, "Let me at least give you a ride."

"No, it's fine. I'll be lucky to get back before closing time in this rush hour."

"Okay." Alex concedes reluctantly, "Text me when you get there."

I plaster on a smile that even a three year old would see right through and place a small kiss on Alex's cheek before murmuring, "I'll see you back home."

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