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“No.” I shake my head. “That’d be Mercury.”
“Your name is Octavia, your sister’s name is Gigi…”
“Augusta, actually. Octavia, Augusta and Mercury.” I sigh. “Don’t ask. Mom was going through a Roman phase. Maybe it was that Gladiator movie.”
And he smiles. He really smiles, big and wide and boyish. It transforms his face, softens it. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile like that, and oh God…
If he was handsome before, he’s breathtaking now, and that’s… bad for my resolutions.
Really, really bad.
“The kids could stay here for a bit,” Matt says. “Here with me. Color their books or whatever it is they like doing.”
He has his arms around them, and I have to look away because his bare, muscular, inked arms around his kids are just killing me.
My ovaries. God. Have mercy.
“I’ll go grab the coloring things,” I mumble and make my escape, all but running out of his bedroom and into the kids’.
Once there, I stop to catch my breath.
God.
Grabbing the coloring supplies, I return to Matt’s bedroom and lay the books and pencils on top of the covers. He thanks me and opens the books, asking his kids to tell him what they are doing, and which pictures they like.
They look so frigging happy that he’s paying them attention, playing with them. I want to hug all three of them, and Matt glances at me and beckons with the hand that’s resting on Mary’s shoulders for me to go sit with them.
I grin at him, but before I move, Cole shoves his coloring book at his dad.
“Someone writed in my book,” he says in a small, hurt voice.
“Wrote,” I correct automatically, and then as what he said sinks in, “What do you mean?”
“Show me,” Matt says.
And we all bend over the book, grinning, and then freeze.
Stare at the words scrawled there in big black letters.
‘Don’t you love kids?’
We’re sitting in the living room downstairs, the kids playing on the carpet at our feet. A very pale Matt is hunched up beside me, a hand in his hair, red spots on his cheekbones.
“Who the hell wrote that in his book? Did anyone get inside the house? Any worker, or salesperson?”
“No, of course not.” I do my best not to feel offended at this. He’s stressed, and sick. “Could it be from when that lady down the street looked after them?”
“Maybe.” But he doesn’t look convinced.
I’m not either. I mean, I’ve been there every day when Cole was coloring. Never saw those words before. “You can’t think that psycho sneaked inside the house? Wouldn’t the security cameras catch that?”
“There are some issues with the cameras,” he says, and a chill runs through me. When he puts his arm around me, I tell myself not to read anything into the gentle touch. “We’ve been locking all doors and windows. I’ll check them all again.”
But the chill remains as we watch the kids play, innocent and unaware of all the fears plaguing us.
“You don’t think he’ll hurt the kids?” I whisper. “Those words…”
He pulls me closer. “He’s trying to scare us, that’s all. Fucking Ross. Just don’t let my kids out of your sight until we find proof.”
