“’We’. You said ‘we’, love.” I bit down again and gnawed just a little, knowing I would leave a mark and not caring in the least. “It means you’re all in. That you know this is where you belong.”
Mal cut off his moan by pressing his face into my shoulder. I felt the sound reverberate in my skin. But it also took his neck away from my mouth. Internally I pouted, but it was for the best because otherwise, we were going to end up with blue balls. Or bluer, anyway.
It took him a few moments to compose himself. He just pressed his face there, breathing deeply through his nose.
“Love the way you smell,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against my skin. Then he sighed a little and leaned his head back. “I want it, Crew. For this to be home and to belong with you. To you. I’m not saying I’m not going to have, uh, moments where the intrusive thoughts win but…yeah. I want it.”
I kissed his nose, then the corner of his mouth. He chased my lips and I gave him what he wanted. Eventually, I pulled back with a gasp and manhandled him around to face the other way again, spooning around him tightly.
“Wait till I tell you about someday, years down the road, when I want us to build a house.” He tried to turn his head, but I slid a hand into his hair and kept him where he was. “For now, try to sleep. We’ve got plenty of time for the future.”
The day must have been catching up with him because he let out a big yawn at just the mention of sleep. He gripped my fingers tightly, and his voice was slightly slurred when he said, “Tell me about the house, Crew.”
So I did. I talked about where we could build it and how we would plan it together, until his deep, even breathing filled the room. I held him tightly until I followed him into slumber.
I woke at my usual time, Mal still holding on tightly, but just as dead to the world. I eased out of his hold, making sure he stayed sound asleep, then threw on yesterday’s clothes. I hit the head, then padded into the kitchen area to get a pot of coffee going.
I was just taking my first sip when the sound of tiny feet had me turning. Payton’s hair was wild from sleep and his pajama shirt was crooked, but he was clutching Mr. Raven in one hand and squinting at me.
“Daddy’s still sleeping.” He tried to whisper but he didn’t have the volume control. I hid my smile behind my mug and nodded.
“Yep. He had a big day yesterday so he needs his rest.”
Payton’s brow crunched together. “How come?”
“How come he had a big day or how come he needs his rest?” I asked, motioning him closer. He ran over and lifted his arms, so I scooped him up and set him on the counter in front of me. I still had to lean over to look him in the eye but it put us on more even ground.
“Yeah. Both.” He scratched his belly, then rubbed his eyes. He was still waking up.
“Lots of emotions,” I explained, seeing as that was the simplest explanation. “And sometimes, when your brain has a lot of emotions, it’s good to give your brain a nice, long rest.”
He nodded, his little face serious. “Sometimes I get sleepy when I cry real hard. Did Daddy cry?”
Oh, boy. How to answer? “I dunno, little man. But still, he felt a lot of stuff. So we should let him sleep, huh?”
Payton seemed content enough with that answer. “Yeah. Daddy says sleep is good for bodies.”
“That it is,” I agreed, hoping he kept this innocence for as long as possible. I’d help any way I could to ensure it. “So this is what I’m thinking. You get dressed, and then I’ll take you up to the house. It’s not a daycare day so you get to spend it with Mrs. Jenn.”
Payton looked down at Mr. Raven and fiddled with his wing. “Aria calls Mrs. Jenn Mimi.”
I studied him, trying to figure out where he was going with this. I tried to think back to when Judson and Keegan were this age and how their brains worked then. I’d been a teenager and they were my best reference for dealing with kids. But Payton was far more introspective than the twins had been, at least outwardly. With each other, who knew? They’d had their own language until they were seven, and I swore they still used some of the words to this day.
“That’s because Mom is Aria’s grandmother. Like your Nana. It’s her grandma nickname.”
Payton nodded, but he still wouldn’t look at me. He grabbed the sleeve of my T-shirt and rubbed the seam in his fingers. I waited for him to think about that, mentally trying to prepare for whatever question he had next.
“I wanna call her Mimi.” His whisper was so soft if I hadn’t been right there, in his space, I wouldn’t have heard it.
My gut clenched and my breath caught. Because how fucking sweet was that? My instinct was to tell him he had to run it by his dad, but then I realized I could handle this. It was my first parenting moment with the kid, and if I wanted to be his bonus dad, I had to step up.
But I also had to tread carefully. So I kissed his head, and asked, “Yeah?”
Payton nodded, leaning closer. His voice was stronger when he said, “She’s like my nana. Only here.”
I melted a little. “Yeah, I can see that. I think that if you want to call her Mimi, then you should. I know my mom pretty well, and I think she’d like that a lot.”
Payton’s head shot up so fast he nearly clocked me on the chin. But his smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed. “Even if she isn’t really my Mimi? And Nana won’t be mad?”
