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The slap of bare feet on the floor and high-pitched giggles made Michael stop demolishing his breakfast long enough to look up as Axl shot into the room like an unsteady bullet. The kid was as naked as the day he was born, and his wet red hair was spiked up in his version of a Mohawk. Ever since the boy had noticed how Michael styled his faux hawk—when he even bothered to mess with it—he’d insisted on Chloe styling his hair like that too.
Fuck, it was cute as hell.
Michael set down his bowl and darted around the table to grab Axl mid-run as Chloe charged into the kitchen after him. Axl squealed with laughter and she stopped to pant.
“You know better than to run around naked, young man.” She glanced at Michael and lifted a brow. “Though I know where he’s getting it from.”
“Imagine her blaming me, huh, kiddo? It’s not my fault. Guys just gotta be free.” Michael swung Axl up in the air over his head and the baby shrieked and giggled. “Nothing wrong with getting some air on our manly parts. She just doesn’t get it, does she?”
Axl flapped his arms as Michael swooped him through the air. “Nekkid! Nekkid!”
“Thank you. You’ve now guaranteed he won’t put on pants no matter how much I beg him.” Chloe sighed and crossed her arms, but there was no missing her smile.
She wore one pretty often lately, and Michael didn’t think he was imagining things that he might be part of the reason. No doubt about it that she was a huge portion of why he found himself grinning and laughing a hundred times more often than usual. His newfound happiness definitely had something to do with his band doing well, but it was mostly due to Chloe and the squirmy kid in his hands. Axl was beaming down at Michael as if he’d hung the moon and tossed up a few stars for good measure, like he often did since they’d moved in.
It wasn’t all hearts and roses. Adjusting to living with a woman and a baby wasn’t easy. Not even close. As good-natured as Axl was most of the time, he also shrieked and cried when he didn’t get his way, and he woke up in the middle of the night with nightmares at least once or twice a week. Two nights ago, Michael had gotten up with him while Chloe got some desperately needed rest, and he’d resorted to a few fanciful lies so he could go back to bed himself. He’d insisted to Axl that he’d vanquished the monster in his closet with fire, and now the monster was just a pile of ashes.
Probably not the healthiest image to put in the kid’s head, but eh, he was learning as he went.
But Chloe was starting to trust him to take care of Axl too. When the baby bumped his leg on the coffee table during a movie, she’d hung back while Michael patched up the scrape and doled out kisses and a snack. It still felt kind of weird, like he was on the world’s longest babysitting adventure. Eventually, he’d probably get used to her and the kid being his. He was still expecting them to vanish if he closed his eyes.
He absolutely did not want them to go anywhere. They made his place feel less like a place to crash and more like a home. He’d never really had one of those—at least not in the traditional sense—other than with Lila and her parents. Her family’s orchard back in New York had always been one of his favorite spots. He couldn’t wait to take Axl there once spring sprung in New York. Lila’s mom and dad would get such a kick out of Axl. He was their first great grandkid after all.
And yeah, he was getting ahead of himself, and he’d long ago stopped caring. Chloe and Axl being part of his home and his life felt good. Right. He didn’t care if the timeline seemed crazy to some. He’d finally found what he hadn’t had a clue could even exist for a guy like him.
Home. Family. Something more important than a quick fumble and bounce in the middle of the night. Romantic holidays weren’t just a reason to find a chick and get laid. They actually had true meaning.
Christ, the night he’d spent with Chloe on Valentine’s Day a couple of weeks ago had been a damn near religious experience. Forget sex. Forget making love. They’d laughed and they’d loved and then they’d gone to sleep in each other’s arms.
When Axl woke up crying, they’d stumbled toward him in the middle of the night like any other couple. Like parents.
Good thing they’d had that night to be intimate together too. Any naked encounters they’d managed since had been between Axl feedings and Axl crappy sleep and long, irritating rehearsals and Chloe crashing after cleaning his house from ceiling to floor, in spite of his admonitions not to bother. The whole parenting thing kind of killed much more than quickies most of the time
“Chopter?” Axl asked, still winging his arms up and down as Michael swung him through the air. Doing it didn’t involve much thought, since the kid would’ve been content to fly around that way for days.
“Chopper,” Michael corrected, since it was one of Axl’s favorite words but he never quite got it right. “Yes, you’re just like a chopper. Not quite that high though. Someday we’ll go on an airplane. Would you like that?”
Axl’s big brown eyes got even bigger as Michael brought him in for a landing in his arms. “Plane?” He craned his neck comically to find Chloe. “Mama, plane?”
“Yeah, baby. Someday we’ll go on a plane.” She came closer to scoop her fingers through Axl’s floppy hair. No matter how much gel Chloe used, he had a bit too much to pull off the same look Michael had.
“Don’t even have to wait for someday. My dad has a jet. We could take it out anytime you wanted.” He propped Axl on his hip. “Go up to San Fran sometime maybe, show Axl the bridges and the zoo. They have some incredible B&B’s. And you’re not feeling it,” he said as Chloe glanced away.
“A jet, Michael? Really?”
He shrugged as Axl chewed on the sleeve of his Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. “It’s just a plane. A large one,” he acknowledged at Chloe’s raised brow. “My dad won’t care if we take it, as long as we schedule our plans around his business trips. He’s in Venezuela right now. Has been for a few weeks actually.”
Which was why he’d avoided hearing from his dear old dad thus far. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His father had left him a couple text messages, usually with mentions of the news and needing to talk to him.
That conversation probably wouldn’t consist of an educational father-son chat about the joys of marriage, so Michael had avoided him thus far. The jig would be up soon though, because his father was due back in the country anytime now—if he hadn’t already arrived.
“Venswayla?” Axl asked, mangling the country name so badly that even Chloe laughed. Those worry wrinkles hadn’t left her forehead yet, but at least her eyes weren’t so heavy anymore.
“Venezuela, pal. We’ll go there someday.”
“Chopter,” Axl said quite seriously, lifting his head from his gummy work on Michael’s sleeve.
“Chopper.” Michael laughed and handed him off to Chloe. “Go on and get dressed with your mama. Daddy’s gotta get to rehearsal.”
