KING’S POV
Lily has just given birth to Meredith
(Which is 3 years after they met)
“I’m driving!”Zara said.
“Jesus, no.” Holly made wide eyes at me, in the way she did when she thought it was time for me to step in and handle shit. “I said I’d drive.”
Zara’s features flattened into the look that signalled her intention to fight to the bitter end. “You’re not the boss, Holly. And you don’t get to always drive now. Not since I got my license.”
“You got ityesterday,” Holly said. “And trust me when I tell you that I’m not actually convinced the guy who signed off on it wasn’t high. You need more practice before I’ll willingly get in a car with you.”
Zara opened her mouth to continue the argument, but I stepped in. “Enough. I’m driving. Now get your shit together. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Zara’s gaze snapped to me, displeasure clear as fucking day in her eyes. “That’s not fair, King. You said I could drive to pick Mum up.”
Fuck me, I usually thought Lily would be the death of me. Over the last few days while she’d been in hospital giving birth to our daughter, I’d decided it’d fucking be a toss-up between her and Zara.
“I changed my mind.”
“You can’t just change your mind,” Zara said, her shoulders pushed back in such a way I knew she meant business.
“I can and I have. You wanna argue over it, you can stay home.” With that, I stalked away from the both of them, down the hallway, and into Cade’s bedroom where Robbie was dressing him.
“Daddy!” Cade wiggled out of Robbie’s arms and ran towards me, his tiny hands gripping my jeans in an effort to climb up my legs.
I scooped him up while saying to Robbie, “Thanks, mate. Do you wanna finish getting ready? We’re gonna leave soon.”
Robbie stood. “Are Zara and Holly fighting again?”
“Yeah.”
We exchanged a knowing look before he turned and exited the room.
Robbie was a kid of little words, but we didn’t need them. We got each other without them. And he was as fucking frustrated with Zara as I was. Yesterday, after we visited Lily and Meredith, we came home and locked ourselves away in the games room for two hours to escape Zara. Holly took Cade out to the park so she could do the same.
Seventeen-year-old Zara was more of a handful than she’d been the entire three years I’d known her. Fuck if I didn’t love her, though. I fucking did, but living with her was hell some days. And that was saying something; I’d survived both Annikaand Skylar, but neither of them were this exhausting. Or maybe I was just too fucking old for this shit. Either way, my head was in a perpetual state of fucking ache. The sooner I got Lily home, the better. Fuck knew how, but she had a way of managing everyone that avoided most of this bullshit.
Twenty minutes later, after Zara messed around doing fuck knows what, we finally left for the hospital. It was a twenty-five minute drive, which was twenty-five minutes too long to be locked in a car with Zara and Holly when they insisted on carrying on an argument they started yesterday over who would get the television tonight at a certain time.
I did my best to tune them out, but after ten minutes of it, I cut in.
“You know who’s gonna get the TV tonight?” I said, gripping the steering wheel and willing myself to not lose my shit completely. After three years of helping Lily raise these girls, I was a pro at keeping my temper in check around them, but I had my limit, and they’d almost reached it.
“Mum said I could watch my show,” Zara said.
“No, she didn’t,” Holly started, but I didn’t give her a chance to finish.
“Whichever one of you agrees to cook your mother dinner tonight first is who’s gonna get the TV,” I said.
“Oh my God, King,” Zara said, all teen outrage and disbelief. “That’s not fair.”
I met her eyes in the rear-view mirror. “You know what’s not fair, Zara? You spending the last three days throwing your entitled teen ass around, banking on the fact your mother wasn’t home and I was stretched thin. You’re better than that. You know it and I know it. So how about you show me the Zara I know and love, and then we can get into a conversation about what’s fair. And while you’re at it, think about your mother andhow much she does for you. Cooking her dinner is the least you could do for her tonight.”
Something I said reached her and a look of regret washed over her face. She nodded and said softly, “I’ll cook her favourite.” She then slid her headphones on and checked out on us.
“I’ll help,” Holly said.
