y'all, this is the like 4th or 5th fanfic i've finished this year and that's wild bc i notoriously never finish my fics! but i had to do it for my girl, valeria, and rachel zegler, the love of my life.
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"Whitley Raphael Uley, get your ass down here!" Valeria shouted throughout the house.
"Ooh, she full-named you, bitch. You're in trouble."
"I know you didn't just say 'bitch', Camila Rose!" she shouted, her eyes wide.
In sync, the two eight-year-olds came down the stairs, pushing and shoving each other as they avoided looking at their mother. Whitley, who was the oldest of the twins, innocently rubbed the floor with his sock-clad toe.
"You called, Mama?" he asked.
"You used my oil paints to write 'The Mariners Suck' on the side of Paul's truck."
Camila snickered, thinking it was quite funny as her brother threw his hands up, not even trying to deny it. "But Uncle Mike said it was okay! He should be the one getting in trouble."
"Oh, Uncle Mike will be getting in trouble," she scoffed. Then she just shook her head. "You and your sister will both clean it up—"
"But I didn't do anything!" Camila whined.
"You said 'bitch'," Whitley reminded her with a smug smile.
"Go," Valeria said, pushing them toward the door. "You're lucky he didn't shift and come here to bite your heads off."
As soon as her children were gone, Valeria let out an actual laugh, just thinking about how annoyed Paul was over the stunt, as he was a devoted Mariners fan. But just because she thought it was funny didn't mean she couldn't discipline her kids — not that she did often. Sam liked to be the more stern parent, but he was still at work. Even though they didn't leave with the Cullens four years ago, Sam still started up his own construction company, so Valeria got to live out her fantasies of seeing her husband shirtless with a toolbelt hanging low on his hips on a hot day.
With the house quiet, Valeria moved past the back porch and onto the beach they lived on, setting a glass of lemonade in the sand. Then she stood in front of her abandoned easel and returned to the painting of the shoreline that she'd been doing before Paul called, absolutely fuming and rightfully assuming that her son was the culprit — he was always the culprit. She was at peace, feeling the water wash over her toes.
It was while she was touching up the foam on the waves that Sam got home. He followed her scent to the back of the house and just leaned against the side of it, watching as his girl got lost in her work. She was humming a familiar song — Chiquita by ABBA, the first song she'd been humming when he met her in the woods.
The sun was spilling out from behind the clouds, it one of the rare days where the weather was good. And as the rays hit her tanned skin, she didn't shimmer like a diamond in the light, but Sam thought she was just as radiant.
After a few minutes of her not noticing his presence, Sam made himself known while pushing off the side of the house. "What are you painting?" he asked while sliding his arms around her waist.
Valeria turned in his arms and dragged her brush along the bridge of his nose, smearing white paint across his tanned skin. "You," she said, smirking up at him.
He scoffed and snatched the brush from her, holding it high above her head. "Where are the kids?"
"Your children are cleaning up the vandalism they did to Paul's car," she chuckled. Then he brought the brush down and put some paint on her cheek, making her smile.
"So, they're just my kids when they do something wrong?"
"Exactly."
"So, what I'm hearing," Sam said, leaning down to brush his lips against her jaw, "is that we have the house to ourselves for a little while."
She hummed happily as he nipped at her skin, closing her eyes as he slid his warm hands down her sides, toying with the hem of the sundress she was wearing. "You dog, Sam Uley."
Sam smiled and kissed her slowly, loving how she stood on her toes and chased after him for more when he pulled away. "Only for you, Valeria Uley."
