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Bethany nibbles her lip before asking, “Strawberries and whip cream?”
“Both?” I offer, and from the looks on their faces, you’d think I just handed them the world.
Jaxson
From the laughter and shushing coming from the kitchen, I know Scotlyn is entertaining my twin tornados. I just hope she isn’t overdoing it. Her body hasn’t healed from her kidnapping, and last night, we spent more hours making love than sleeping. I know she must be sore.
Standing up, I grab my phone on the way to my dresser and check my emails. Finding one from Mila’s handler that she’s settled in her new accommodations and thanking me for my help, I give a quick, curt response and delete it.
The next one is a video.
Of Libby.
I knew if Sergei Tumarov and his guys were resourceful, they’d eventually find a way to get in touch with me, and since my contact information is public knowledge, it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. All they'd need is a name, and as I watch the video of Libby’s torture, I learn how they got it.
I don’t blame the girl. She didn't deserve what happened to her, and I would never have expected her to hold out for as longas she did. She tried so fucking hard to protect her friend, but a person can only handle so much before breaking.
Getting dressed, I clean up before heading out to join the girls in the kitchen. I’m hoping to keep this email away from Scotlyn for now, at least, especially when I see her singing and dancing with my girls as they throw blueberries into pancake batter.
The sight is so carefree, and something I hadn’t realized the twins were missing. A mother’s presence is precious, of course, and I still remember some of the time before Deedee became my mom. She gave me things I never dreamed possible. My dad and Uncle Casey were great, but they couldn’t provide what I was missing from the lack of a mother. As I grew up, I learned more about the woman who gave me life, and the more I discovered, the more I hated her. Especially given that she nearly got Dee and me killed.
Leaning against the wall beside the fridge, I cross my arms, watching as they do some fancy ballet move every time one of them gets a blueberry in the batter. Flour, sugar, and a dozen other ingredients are splattered all over the counter, floor, and clothes. It’s a perfect moment.
A perfect morning.
“Time to mix?” Bethy asks, gazing up at Scotlyn, and I see in her eyes how much the woman has come to mean to her in such a short period of time. Bethany is never this open with anyone outside the family, but they've bonded over ballet. Bethany’s absolute favorite thing in the world.
“You bet. Why don’t you hop up here”—Scotlyn lifts her onto the stool—“and stir gently.” After showing her how, she moves back, and that’s when she sees me.
A blush creeps up her neck, and I know it’s because she senses what I’m thinking. How much I want to take her back tobed and fuck her until I’ve planted a baby inside her. One that is going to be her twin.
“Bellamy, will you check on the whipped cream?” My child nods vigorously while running to do as she’s asked.
Crooking my finger at Scotlyn, I motion for her to come to me. Wiping at the flour on her clothes—my clothes, actually—she smiles sheepishly as she stops half a foot away from me.
“Whatcha doing, sunshine?” Gripping the front of the shirt, I drag her forward. Her hands land on my chest, and I catch her by the hips.
“We thought we’d make breakfast,” she answers at the same time we hear, “Oh no!” Glancing back, Bethy has splashed some of the batter on the countertop and looks near tears as Scotlyn rushes to her side. “No worries. We made plenty. We’ll just wipe this up, and if there’s not enough, that only means extra whipped cream, of course.”
Holy shit.
Bethy has gone from near tears to chuckling in less time than it ordinarily takes for her to work through her hysterics. No one has ever been able to get her to turn around when she’s ready to cry.
But Scotlyn did it.
With little effort and zero hesitation.
“Marry me.” All three girls stop what they’re doing to stare at me.
“What?” Scotlyn whispers as she catches the bowl Belly is carrying before it slides to the ground.
“Marry me,” I repeat. “Marry us.” Because that’s a packaged deal. I don’t need to say that, though, because I know she knows, and I also realize she’s more than thrilled with it.
“I…uhm…I…you’re insane.” Which isn’t a no.
Bethany and Bellamy have taken a step back as I move closer to Scotlyn, and I’m not sure if it’s because they’re nervous ordon’t approve. My money is on nervousness that Scotlyn will say no.
“We asked if she would be our mommy now since you slept together last night.” Laughing at the embarrassment on Scotty’s face at Bethy’s proclamation, I can understand her reasoning.
