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“Don’t you dare poop your pants.” Blake ran toward him, scooped him up, and plopped him on the toilet in the bathroom.
Crisis averted.
“There. Now, I’m going right outside the door here. Take your underwear off, do your business, and holler if you need me. Got it?”
Three minutes later, the door opened, and Peter finally emerged butt-naked. With a frown, Blake went in the bathroom to take a look. Inside the toilet bowl, a pair of underwear floated. Spider-Man stared up at him, fingers pointed, webs shooting through the toilet water in despair.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
BY FRIDAY, BLAKE HAD decided that mothers were inhuman. There was no way they could do this day in and day out and survive if they were mortal.
All three of the Triple Threat hopped on the couch next to Blake’s prone body, screaming and leaping for joy.
He should tell them to get down before they crack their heads, or fall and break a bone or finish the coffee table off, but he couldn’t muster the energy.
He surrendered. They finally did it, and he was half-convinced that once he perished, they’d celebrate and stomp all over his corpse.
He stared up at the ceiling. These kids seriously made him reconsider parenthood. Surely, it couldn’t be like this, could it? He had to believe these kids were different. Because if all children were like these three, no one would do it. Humanity would’ve ceased to exist long ago. The Triple Threat were not normal kids. They were kids on speed.
Kinsley’s foot caught him in the stomach, and he hissed. The breath wheezed in and out of his lungs. His gaze drifted across the living room. Not even one square inch of space was visible underneath the mess. Toys. Cereal. Crayons. Paper. Clothes. You name it, and it was there on the floor somewhere. It was like a virtual search and find game. Spot Blake’s pride in the rubble and you win a prize!
The door swung open, and Mel stumbled inside.
He wasn’t proud of the way she found him, but he barely had the energy to care.
Only when her eyes met his, and he registered her concern in the widening of all that rich caramel, did he muster the energy to sit up and look alive.
“Rough day.” She winced with the words. It was a hypothetical question.
“Oh, we’re good. It’s all good,” Blake managed.
Mel let out a breath, then rushed to hug her kids.
“I’ll let myself out,” he murmured and stood, making his way toward the door, his normally long stride a shuffle.
“Blake?”
He paused by the door, his hand on the knob.
“Thanks,” she said, offering him a soft smile. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, and he caught a glimpse of straight white teeth, her eyes sparkling with gratitude.
And that’s when he knew he’d come back. Because they’d had a deal, and maybe he was a complete idiot, but he couldn’t disappoint her. Not with that smile and the way she seemed so utterly grateful every morning he showed up this week and every evening she returned home and her kids were in one piece.
She stared at him now, smile in place, and he knew what she was waiting for—confirmation that he’d return after the weekend. So he offered her a nod, because speaking took too much effort, and not until her shoulders slumped in relief and she turned back to her kids, did he open the door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Blake
It had only been a week away from the shop, and Blake already missed the ever-present grease that seemed to coat his hands, the buzzing of tools, and the old school rock that always blasted from the speakers. Part of him wanted to turn around, hop back on his bike, and head to B’s Bikes. He’d grab a cup of Grant’s special coffee that was as dark and thick as crude oil and peruse the custom orders and check on the progress of their current projects. As stupid as it was, he missed his boys, with their crude language, endless razzing, and amazing work ethic. Maybe he was biased, but he had assembled the best team around, which was why he knew they’d stay afloat without him, despite Grant’s cynicism.
Monday morning, he managed to find parking a block from Mel’s place, and on his way to her apartment, he started having doubts. A weekend off did little to prepare him for his return today. Even time spent with Jen, lounging poolside at her parents’ indoor pool at their estates in the country did little to revive him. Especially when it meant walking on eggshells with them around.
What was he doing? Maybe Jen was right. What her parents thought didn’t matter. He didn’t need their approval. But no matter how
many times he had argued with himself about this very thing, he still desperately wanted Garwood’s blessing, and despite what Jen said, he knew she did too. Maybe it was pride, or his fear Jen would resent him down the line if he didn’t, but he knew he couldn’t go forward with a proposal without their consent. So in the end, had little choice. He had to make this work.
With a sigh, he slid his phone from his pocket and dialed his brother. When he answered on the second ring, Blake launched right into the thick of things. “I need your help, man.”
