In Mommys Bed... - Youngermommy 22 12 02 Kenzie Love

Kenzie set the mugs on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the massive king bed— our bed now, technically, though it still felt like hers. The one she’d shared with her ex-husband. The one she’d cried in. The one she’d re-made with white linen sheets the day she changed the locks.

I did. In the low lamplight, she looked impossibly young. But her eyes—those were ancient. Tired. Hungry.

I blinked. "I’m not."

"Good." She leaned in, her forehead pressing against mine. Her breath was sweet and warm. "That’s exactly where I want you. In over your head. In my bed. In my life."

"You’re overthinking again," she said softly, closing the bedroom door behind her with a quiet click . YoungerMommy 22 12 02 Kenzie Love In Mommys Bed...

I exhaled. "I just... I feel like I’m in over my head."

I flinched. She noticed.

At twenty-two, Kenzie Love was barely older than the babysitters I’d had in high school. But the way she moved through the house told a different story. She had traded her usual going-out crop tops for a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that kept slipping off one shoulder. Her hair, usually wild and bleached, was pulled back in a loose, damp bun.

"You’re not him," she said. "You’re not my ex. And you’re not my son, even if you call me 'Mommy' when we play." A small, dangerous smile tugged at her lips. "You’re the man who fixed the leaky faucet, who showed up with pizza, who stayed when I had a nightmare last week." Kenzie set the mugs on the nightstand and

"Hey." She reached out, her cool fingers tracing my jaw. "Look at me."