#axllrose

The date with Axl had been a last minute thing, simply calling him up and asking if he'd want to catch dinner and a movie with her. She'd been out of town for the past week, at a resort in northern California, catering to the rich and powerful's love for the sound and magic of old Hollywood, and even though they'd talked on the phone nightly, she missed him, like a tangible thing in her chest.

The dress is light blue satin, lace overlay and quarter sleeves that complimented her porcelain skintone and dark hair, which had been curled and brushed to lay on her shoulders in lazy waves.

She spends another few moments looking over herself in the mirror, making sure she looked pretty from every angle, before she crosses to her dresser for a spritz of perfume and a pair of earrings.

As a last moment decision, she adds a necklace, and the pearlescent pendant settles becomingly in the hollow of her throat, complimenting the scoop neckline of her dress that hinted at the curve of her breasts. Satisfied with her look, she moves to pull on a pair of black kitten heels and collects her white clutch purse from the edge of her bed. As she does, she checks the time on her alarm clock on her bedside table, next to the pot of wilting peonies that she hadn't been able to bring herself to throw out yet. Axl would be here soon.

Annette steps out of her room into the hall and continues to the living room, the house empty as her grandmother was spending the evening with a friend she'd met at bingo.

This was a mistake. I’m taking A.J. 

And at the bottom, a little misshapen heart. 

She gets a room at a hotel nearby, fumbling with the keys as she lets herself in, and once she is, she collapses onto the bed, holds the newborn to her chest, and sobs. Everything about this had been a mistake, and she’d been blinded to the signs because she loved Axl so much. And he was going to leave, anyway. He never wanted kids, and she went and got pregnant. And now, she trapped him with A.J. and she’s fat and he won’t want her anymore, not with the gorgeous women that throw themselves at him daily. He’ll find someone else, no problem, if he hasn’t already. 

30. Somewhere with a pulse

She’s flying high on a combination of weed, alcohol and the proximity of her boyfriend. They’re lying together in their bed, clothes littering the floor, her head pillowed against his chest, where she’d collapsed after riding him within an inch of his life, if the way his heart had been galloping when her ear had first rested against his damp skin was any indication. 

A slow, lazy smile curves her face, the sweat that had been glistening across her skin dry now. They’ve been lying like this for what seems like hours, but could’ve been merely minutes. She angles her face upward, chin pressed against his pectoral muscle, and hums, pleased and soft, when one of his hands rise to slip through her hair. She shifts, trembling as it jostles where they’re still connected, where he’s still inside her, brushing sensitive and wonderful, and moves up to press a kiss against his neck, right over the pulse-point, so she can feel it thrumming against her lips.

Annette shifts closer, hand coming up to trail her fingers down his jawline. Axl’s still sleeping, mouth open slightly, soft snores coming from the redhead. She tucks her face up into the underside of his jaw, taking a breath of his scent, shower gel and cologne and laundry soap and cigarettes. It’s a smell she knows as well as any, that brings her comfort, and she presses soft kisses against his neck. 

The woman promises her son he can old his little sister after a diaper change, and carries the girl back to her room, where she changes her on the changing table. Presley was sharing her mother and father’s room until they could move Zane’s things into A.J.’s room and turn the boy’s room into a nursery, until the group could get a bigger house.

Annette returns, smiling at the sight of her middle child and his father playing, and moves to the couch. A.J. is old hat at holding babies by now, having held his little brother and his uncle’s kids countless times, so Annette trusts him when she lays her daughter in his arms, enough that she moves to the kitchen to get herself something to drink, returning to take her original spot. A.J. is watching hid baby sister with a smile on his face, and bends and kisses her forehead sweetly. “You love her,” Annette asks softly, and the boy grins toothily up at her, nodding. His mother gives a soft smile as well, bending in to kiss his forehead then. “Me too. She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” A.J. agrees. “Too cute.”

Speaking of the girl, she starts fussing, so Annette’s moving to her daughter’s side, humming softly and lifting the infant swaddled in pink before she heads out of the room with her. A.J. and Zane are seated on the floor of the living room, watching TV, and they’re all grins when they see her. “Mama,” A.J. declares as she sits on the couch, “You were asleep for a long time!”

“I know, baby. Having your sissy made me tired,” she smiles, and she’s shifting to tug down the neckline of her tank top, encouraging her daughter to latch on to a nipple, and winces when she does. She definitely did not miss that pain. “Where’s your daddy?”

“Talkin’ to Unca Swash,” Zane replies, looking at his sister before asking, “Can I holds her?”

“No way,” A.J. protests. “It’s my turn! ‘Sides, you’ll drop her.”

“Nuh uh!”