“Thank you,” I manage.
He shrugs. I could watch him shrug while shirtless every day of my life and twice on Sundays.
“You really are so good with them,” I tell him again.
Luc gives a slow shake of his head.“You’rereally good with them.”
I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite feel like I make it. “They have fun with you.”
“You think they don’t have fun with you?” He’s watching me closely. I’d consider hiding if there was anywhere to go.
“Sometimes,” I concede.
He cups my face and sweeps a thumb over my cheek. “They need you. You make them feel safe. You’re what keeps them grounded,” he says, pressing his hand tighter against me so I feel grounded too. “Fun is extra. It’s important, but what you give them every day is more important.”
I let go a sigh. I know what he’s saying is true, but Harry, Mattie, and Emmett deserve more than safe and grounded. They used to have fun. They used to have happiness. We all did.
“You’re doing the best you can,” Luc says, clearly reading my thoughts again. “And it’s better than anyone else could do.”
“There isn’t anyone else.” The words are out before I can stop them. I hate how self-pitying they sound and shake my head to dispel them. “I didn’t mean—”
His thumb strokes my cheek again. “There is someone else,” he says, his voice dipping lower.“I’mhere.”
It’s as though my body becomes my heartbeat. I can feel the heavy pounding in every cell. He can’t mean that. He’s only known us about a month. If I can’t count on my aunts and uncles to be here for the day-to-day, if I couldn’t count on my boyfriend—the father of my child—to take this up with me, how can I lean on anyone else?
“Let me help you,” Luc says, his dark eyes boring into mine. “I can take care of the fun stuff for now.”
He says this, and all I hear are two words. The most important two.
For now.
Chapter Twenty-Six
LUC
Emmett hates Monday mornings,and after the long holiday weekend—which might be the best four days I can remember—I can’t say I blame him.
I learned something amazing Friday night. Millie is so affectionate when she’s rested and relaxed. I took all of us, including Alex, to seeFrozen II.(The big kids wanted to seeJoker,but Millie put her foot down.) I bought the tickets, but Millie insisted on getting the snacks, which turned out costing almost as much, but I’m learning when it’s worth it to argue with her and when it’s better to let things go.
Movie snacks fall into the second category.
We took up most of one row in the cinema, and Emmett demanded to sit in between Alex and Harry. Before the previews started, I had the pleasure of watching my little brother do some quick maneuvering to put Mattie on his other side, that other side being the one furthest from me and Millie.
And, yeah, I might have spotted them holding hands during the opening credits. If they kept it up throughout the rest of the movie, I didn’t notice. I was too busy, holding Millie’s hand in mine and feeling the slow caress of her thumb along my palm.
Afterward, we left The Grand, picked up Deano’s, and ate pizza and played Unstable Unicorns in the Delacroix’s living room. It was a blast. And the more the kids laughed and carried on, the more Millie melted against me. Played her fingers through my hair. Stroked my back.
Honestly? I don’t think she was even aware of it, the way she kept her body in contact with mine. As though it came naturally. But I was aware of nothing else. It made concentrating on building my unicorn army damned impossible, but I’m not complaining.
And last night, after I made burgers on Millie’s dad’s grill, we all piled on the sectional to watchSpider Man: Into the Spiderverse—which was a lot better than I expected. Still, Millie fell asleep against my chest, her red hair spreading over me like it was staking a claim, her body trusting me with its weight.
I just need her to trust me with her heart. God knows she’s called dibs on mine.
But it’s six forty-five when I come through the kitchen Monday morning. I walk in to find Emmett moaning about going to school and Millie wearing a crease between her brows.
“Morning, guys,” I say, hoping my presence will help Emmet buck up. He ignores me.
“Morning,” Millie says weakly, meeting my gaze with an exasperated look. All the affectionate ease we’ve enjoyed this weekend has run for cover.
