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“I was an only child,” I tell the girl. “I never had to deal with any of this.”
Blair frowns at me. “They aren’t bad.”
“I never said they were.”
“You’re judging!” she squeals and starts crying.
I look at Landry, who only smiles at me. “Is this normal?”
“Only when they get back from their grandparents’ house. Just let them work it out.”
Frowning, I can’t imagine how my parents would have handled me flipping out this way. Well, my mom would nag me about standing wrong or tell me a story about how she never cried as a child. My father would likely explain how feelings are a detriment to becoming a man. Shockingly, he would also claim he never threw tantrums as a child. My parents were constantly bragging about their superior childhoods in between claiming their parents were harsh but fair.
“Your grandparents knew the power of the belt,” my father would often say before offering an underwhelming brag, “That’s why I’m the man I am today.”
My parents weren’t the worst. They were easy to maneuver once I realized I’d never bond with them. I also accepted I needed to grunt my responses rather than use full sentences. My parents loved to talk as much as they loathed to listen. A silent Silas barely offended them.
They’re long dead now. By the time a truck T-boned their car, I’d gone over a decade without saying more than two words to them. Once I was out of the house, I didn’t look back. My mother would call and whine about my absence. Sometimes, I’d put my phone on speaker, so my club family could hear her babble. Walla Walla recorded her voice to use for his insomnia.
If my parents were alive, they’d want to know my kids. I study the four little people and imagine all the shit my mom would complain about and how my father would demand I swat their asses. He might even threaten to use his belt to help me learn how to parent.
I’m in the process of picturing myself shoving the buckle down my dead father’s throat when Beckett runs over and wants up. Brooklyn sees him in my arms and expects me to also carry her.
Once they’re up high, they smile at each other and start talking about shit I can’t understand. I think they’re just impressed with the view.
Within a few minutes, everyone settles down. A nervous Blair apologizes for yelling. Though she worries I might lash out, I only ask if her siblings are wearing diapers.
“I’m not looking to get peed on,” I say, and she grins at my teasing.
“I wear diaper,” Brooklyn says and pats my face.
Beckett shakes his head. “Mine.”
I look at Landry who watches me from the floor with Beau. Her expression is so full of womanly adoration that I feel a little awkward under the weight of such affection.How can I ever live up to her desires?I’m bound to flop under all these new responsibilities. Hell, I nearly drop Brooklyn when she tries to get down too fast.
After a very loud, clingy dinner, Landry puts on a children’s show and has the kids dance. Beau only holds her hands and sways. The younger two jump around and laugh full of excessive crazed energy. I glance at Woodrow who chuckles at whatever he sees on my face.
Yeah, this wasn’t my childhood right here. My house wasn’t a warm, fun place. To get any relief, I had to sneak out and find my friends. We’d sit outside in the dark, talking shit about people and drinking whatever booze anyone could swipe. However, if my family had been fun like this one, I’d have stayed home.
When Beau loses interest in swaying, he sits near his favorite section of lights. Landry starts dancing with Blair. I get the urge to stop them since one is supposed to be on bed rest and the other was wincing a lot earlier.
Instead, I sit near Beau and watch everyone wear themselves out. The boy doesn’t look at me, yet I feel his body language shift. I wait to see if he’ll react to my presence. When I don’t bother him, Beau relaxes again. I grin at how he’s learning to trust me.
With everyone chilling now, I can imagine us together at the end of the year. The baby will be here. We’ll have spent a long summer together.
I picture a big Christmas tree in the corner. Beau’s going to get a kick out of the holiday lights. Instead of dancing to a song about colors, Landry and the kids will sing along with carols. I smile at how warm my normally empty house feels now.
I expect Landry to crash early like the kids. When she lingers in the bathroom for a while, I assume her fancy lunch isn’t sitting well. Once again, I’m reading the situation wrong.
Landry steps out of the bathroom in a red sheer negligee. The air is instantly sucked out of the room. I forget what I did today. The world outside my bedroom falls into a fucking void. It’s just me, Landry, and all her bare flesh.
I finally peel my gaze away from her tits begging to be touched and look at her face. Landry’s wide eyes stare at me in icy panic. Everything about her expression screams terror.
“Did you do this for me?” I ask as my words roll out in a predatory tone.
“Do you like it?” she asks, gulping down air and struggling to seem casual. “They moisturized me from head to toe.”
I think of her curvy body soft and willing under the red material. Stepping closer, I notice how she moves away. We do this dance until she’s against the wall, and I’m standing over her.
