“He answered the doorsanspants,” Rowan calls from the bathroom, his tone deadpan.
Jamie snorts, shaking his head, but whatever retort he’s planning is interrupted by Rosie’s indignant fussing the moment her toes touch the water. She screeches like she’s about to melt into a puddle of green goo, but Leo, unfazed, launches into a dramatic song about rubber ducks, complete with over-the-top quacking.
“Ah,” Jamie murmurs, pausing as he reaches the page where the others have written something Nix hasn’t yet read. “What’s this?”
Nix just shrugs, handing him the ruby-red gel pen without a word, pulling his beloved down onto the window seat. Jamie flashes him a quick smile before setting to work, doodling something with all the focus of a man on a mission. When he’s done, he blows on the ink, caps the pen, and carefully places it back among the others, rearranging them into a perfect ROYGBIV order.
Rowan bursts out of the bathroom a moment later, shaking his soaking wet hair like the Wolf he is. “Big Daddy, save me! They are so mean!” he cries, throwing his arms around Jamie’s neck and making sure his dripping hair splashes down Jamie’s skin.
“Rowan! That’s cold!” Jamie yelps, wriggling under the clammy assault.
Nix giggles from the window seat. “Rowan, you probably deserved that.”
Rowan pouts dramatically before peeling off his wet shirt and tossing it into the girls’ hamper.
When the patio lights flicker on outside, Jamie sighs and climbs to his feet. “Gideon’s convinced me to grill again tonight, so I’d better get started. I understand we’re meeting in the living room later?” He winks at Nix before leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
Rowan gasps. “You’rewhat?No. I’m on with the girlstonight! No fair.”
“Sorry, Rowan. Life is unfair, but I’ve got some lost time to catch up on,” Nix says with a shrug. “But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yeah? Just me and you?” Rowan asks, sliding into the spot Jamie vacated on the window seat.
Nix watches as Rowan picks up the notebook, handling it in the same way Jamie had—a careful reverence that makes Nix smile. It’s eerie how alike the two enigmas are, especially as Rowan settles into parenthood.
Rowan flips through the pages until he finds the letter. He stops, his eyes scanning each line, and Nix notices the way they glisten.
“This is for the girls?” Rowan whispers, his voice soft.
“I haven’t read it yet, beyond Luca’s part,” Nix admits, watching him closely. “But you could add something, too?”
Rowan picks up a deep pink pen, scribbles something quickly, then slams the notebook shut. Before Nix can ask, Rowan cups his face and kisses him hard, stealing his breath.
“I’m going to change, and then I’ll be back with bottles, okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against Nix’s. Then he’s gone, disappearing out the door with the warm, spicy scent of rum lingering in his wake.
A moment later, Leo appears with wet hair and a towel slung low around his waist, carrying both girls bundled in soft towels with tiny hoods. Grayson trails behind, tossing their wet things into the hamper before pulling out diapers and pajamas with efficiency.
Leo escapes to get dressed for dinner, leaving Nix and Grayson to handle the tiny diapers and soft pajamas. The girls wiggle and coo, making the process take a little longer, but Nix doesn’t mind. By the time Rowan returns with bottles in hand, Nix has decided he’d rather feed them himself.
It takes a bit of coordination to manage feeding them both, but after some gentle persuasion, Grayson and Rowan agree to let him handle it. They dim the big lights and help Nix settle back onto the window seat, tucking blankets around him as the evening light fades into a soft glow.
“Go. I think Jamie has food ready. I’ll be down in a bit,” Nix says softly, adjusting the bottles in his hands as the girls settle against each other on the seat in front of him.
“You don’t want to–” Rowan gestures over his shoulder, hesitant.
“Nah,” Nix replies, shaking his head gently. “They’re tired and ready for bed. They had a big day outside.”
“But, Angel–”
“They’ll get ramped up again if we go down,” Nix interrupts with a quiet smile. “You’re on tonight anyway. You should get some sleep.”
“I could stay?” Grayson offers, hovering near the window seat.
“Me, too,” Rowan adds quickly.
Nix looks up at them, a warmth in his smile that’s meant to reassure them. He doesn’t say it aloud, but he knows what he needs right now—just a few more minutes. A little more time to soak in the quiet, to hold onto this moment with his daughters and his thoughts before the noise of life inevitably sweeps it away again.
“I can hear your stomach from here, Rowan Foster. Go,” Nix says lightly, his voice steady. “I just want to do it this way.”
