I tell him he can invite Becca.
I also tell him not to hold his breath. Which apparently is a dumb thing to say to a kid. Why would I hold my breath? That’s a question he asks over and over while I change my clothes, over and over, and search the bathroom for the cologne I hadn’t worn since the bachelor party with the breastfeeding boob stripper.
“But why would I hold my breff?” he asks again, taking my hand as we descend down the stairs. It’s worse than the time I told him to hop out of the bath.
“It’s just a figure of speech, buddy.”
“Finger of peach?”
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Jay McLean is an international best-selling author and full-time reader, writer of New Adult Romance, and most of all, procrastinator. When she’s not doing any of those things, she can be found running after her two little boys, playing house and binge watching Netflix.
She writes what she loves to read, which are books that can make her laugh, make her hurt and make her feel.
Jay lives in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia, in a forever half-done home where music is loud and laughter is louder.