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“Seriously,” she says as she walks toward the front door. “Call me if there are any problems.”
“I will. Be safe, Kendall.”
She stops in her tracks, turning around to face me with a weird look on her face.
“Thank you,” she says, giving me a soft smile before she disappears into the hallway.
For some reason I can’t explain, I follow and press my eye to the peephole, watching her until she disappears out of sight.
I feel restless in my own home for half an hour after she leaves, wondering if I should text to make sure she made it to work safely. I resist. She doesn’t need someone checking up on her. She’s been taking care of herself for a long time.
A short conversation before she picked up her kids from school revealed that she had the twins at nineteen, making her twenty-six, a little younger than I normally go for, but my body doesn’t seem to care about her age. She didn’t let the conversation stray to her ex, the father of her three kids, and I didn’t ask. Getting to know that much about her was dangerous, but I already hate the man for deserting them and not taking care of his family.
I’m getting ready to head to bed, early for a Friday night, but as I walk toward my room, a little giggle filters out of one of the rooms.
I freeze in the middle of the hallway; certain I’m losing my mind. Somehow the responsibility of being here alone with her kids is making me create sounds that aren’t really there. But just as I start walking again, I hear that tiny little giggle once more.
Does this constitute an emergency? I reach for my phone, but what kind of man would I be if I bother her at work because the kids are awake? It’s not like they’re in there setting the curtains on fire. Or are they?
I push open the door to Kayleigh’s room, certain that’s where the sound came from, but the room is empty, the nightlight showcasing flat beds.
The giggle continues as I turn toward the other room, but thinking they could be up to no good, I don’t bother to knock when I swing that door open.
Kayleigh lets out a little shriek, and Kason just rolls his eyes. They were both curled over Kason’s tablet which is now flat on his bed. Knox is still asleep, and I have no idea how the kid isn’t wide awake with the noise they’ve been making in here.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I remind them.
Kayleigh looks guilty, but Kason sits up, pulling the tablet into his lap as if refusing to give it up.
“We’re bored,” Kason says.
“You wouldn’t be if you were asleep,” I say, repeating something I heard my mother tell me a million times. We didn’t have these types of electronics when I was their age, but it wasn’t unheard of to be caught with a comic book and flashlight under my blanket as a child.
“It’s Friday,” Kason says. “We aren’t being loud, and we don’t have to get up for school in the morning.”
“Loud enough for me to hear you in the hallway.” And now I’m arguing with a seven-year-old. “You’re going to wake Knox up.”
“He’s a heavy sleeper,” Kayleigh says, as if she’s validating her right to be up when her mother wanted her asleep.
“Come on,” I tell them, swinging my arm into the hallway.
Kayleigh looks sad as she stands, looking back at her twin to say goodnight, but then Kason pops off the bed as well.
“We can watch YouTube in the living room instead.”
Since I have no idea what rights I have to force them to go to sleep, I just follow behind them, closing the door quietly so Knox doesn’t wake up. I’ve noticed the older two are more capable of entertaining themselves, but Knox only has two speeds—asleep and wild tornado. I think I like the sleeping speed better.
Kayleigh and Kason lie on the living room floor with the tablet in front of them, settling in for more YouTube videos.
I sit back in my recliner, and just watch them.
I don’t know how long it takes before my eyes close and I fall asleep, but it only feels like minutes before I hear, “And just what do you two think you’re doing?”
Startled and a little confused, I open my eyes and stand from the recliner in the same breath.
Kendall is standing on the edge of the living room, her glaring eyes darting between me and the two kids on the floor.
“Finnegan said we could watch YouTube all night,” Kason says, throwing me under the bus.
“Not exactly,” I mutter, my eyes sweeping to the clock on the wall.
It’s already three-thirty.
“Bed, now,” she snaps, her hands on her hips. Kason reaches for the tablet. “Leave it.”
