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“Banks,” I said softly. “Can you watch the language? People are going to think I’m a bad stepmom if you are always using words like that.”
His eyes widened, and he slouched down in his seat. “I didn’t think about it that way. I don’t want people to think you aren’t good to us. You’re the best stepmom. No, I take that back. You’re the best mom. Is it all right if I start calling you ‘Mom,’ like Maddie does?”
My heart was back to contracting painfully, and I quickly nodded, trying not to be too enthusiastic about it. I didn’t want to embarrass him—or myself. Banks thought I was cool, and doing a happy dance in the front seat of his dad’s car while in the middle of traffic would lose me cool points for sure. “Absolutely. Call me whatever you want. I already told you that, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t really consider it. You were like fifteen when I was born. It was kind of weird. Now, though, I don’t really give a fu…dge. I don’t give a fudge, yeah. The age thing doesn’t matter because you are a great mom, and I want you to be mine.”
Emotion clogged my throat, and I had to swallow a few times before I could so much as draw in another breath of air. “You are a great son, Banks, and I want you to be mine. Just like I want Madalyn to be my daughter.”
“It’s a good thing she went back early with Nana and PopPop so she could start dance classes on time,” Banks said with a grimace. “Otherwise, she’d be all happy tears and get me soggy back here.”
During the tour, he had quickly fallen into calling my parents Nana and PopPop. Banks and my dad spent so much time together that they had bonded. Dad had started teaching Banks a few things on the drums, which had only gotten Hayat involved. Between Dad and Uncle Jesse, two of the world’s best drummers, my niece had been playing drums since she was able to grasp a stick in her fist. She and Dad had begun teaching Banks all the basics, and now he was talking about joining the school band’s percussion line.
When my parents left the tour, I’d asked them to help me with a little surprise for my stepson. I didn’t want to drive Jarrett crazy, so I’d asked Dad to turn one of the spare rooms in my new home into a place for Banks to practice by soundproofing it and setting up everything needed for the newest drummer in our family.
Jarrett had agreed—well, he’d basically just said, “Whatever you want, sweet angel,” before I could fully explain what I had in mind. It wasn’t my fault if he hadn’t been paying attention to what I was saying. Especially when he’d been more focused on tasting the sensitive spot on my neck just above my shoulder.
Not that he could complain. With the room soundproof, it wasn’t like he would be able to hear the ruckus that Banks was going to make.
And if he did have an issue with it, I would just have to find a way to distract him until he got on board with the changes to his house.
Maybe I’d remind him that it was our house now.
And then I’d let him go a tiny bit further than simply kissing his favorite parts of my body.
Chapter 2
Jarrett
I sliced into my stack of pancakes as soon as Mrs. Hoffman placed them in front of me on her way out of the kitchen with a basket of freshly folded towels under her arm. Months of being on the road for the summer tour had made home-cooked meals few and far between. A man could only live off cold cereal and instant oatmeal for so long when it came to the most important meal of the day. All those years of eating MREs had prepared me for long spurts of dissatisfying food, but if I didn’t have to tough it out, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to.
The housekeeper had loaded us all up with a breakfast of champions for our second morning home. She most likely would have done it the day before as well, but we’d been up and out the door before the sun was fully risen to get Trinity’s apartment packed and ready for the movers to either bring the boxes back to the house or to a storage unit to await Madalyn when she was old enough to live in the apartment herself. The rest went to a local charity that helped abused women find new housing and assisted with donated furnishings.
Platters of eggs, bacon, flaky biscuits, and an endless stack of pancakes were set on the table, making my mouth water. The scent of perfectly brewed freshly ground coffee filled the air along with the saltiness of the bacon. Fuck, it was good to be home. Banks had already devoured one entire plate before I’d even made it downstairs, barely breathing as he chewed or talked with his mouth full, while he and Trinity discussed everyone’s plans for the day.
“Sundays shouldn’t be so busy,” Banks grumbled as he picked up his glass of milk to wash down his last bite of pancake, scrambled eggs, and bacon. “While we were on tour, sure, I got that. There were concerts on Sundays sometimes, and there was always maintenance of some kind to do on the equipment or instruments. But we’re home now, Mom. We should be relaxing.”
Smiling, Trinity placed her mug of coffee on the table. “You are more than welcome to remain home, bud. But I have a wedding to plan. That means dress shopping and talking to vendors. There are caterers to meet and discuss menus with. And then there is the most important part of all, which your dad and I just happen to be taking care of this afternoon.”
“What’s that?” Banks asked, his tone making it sound like he would rather have his teeth filled than do any of those things.
I knew Mayra had done all the same things when she’d planned what was supposed to be a small, intimate wedding when we’d gotten married. I hadn’t been interested in any decision-making back then. But I wanted to be a part of every moment when it came to this wedding. Trinity and I were partners in life, and we would start off our marriage taking on everything together—even if it sounded just as boring to me as it obviously did to my son.
“We’re picking out the cake and sampling flavors.”
“Changed my mind,” Banks said, wiping his mouth on his napkin before dropping it on the table beside his plate. “All that sounds better than a day at Disneyland. Let me go change real quick, and we can go whenever you’re ready.”
Laughing, she watched him rush out of the kitchen before picking up her coffee again. “Looks like planning our wedding is turning into more of a family affair than I anticipated.”
The happiness I saw shining out of her blue-gray eyes took my breath away. Pushing my plate away, I grasped her hand and tugged her out of her chair. She came willingly, wrapping her arms around my neck as she sat on my lap. I pressed my face into her sweet-smelling neck and released a contented sigh.
This was what life was all about. The peaceful moments when everything was right in the world. Having my kids safe and happy, under the same roof. The love of my life cuddled in my arms. Feeling like the luckiest man in the world because everything I never truly knew I wanted was right there for me to savor and cherish.
The sound of heels on the hardwood floor reached my ears, but I refused to lift my head as Madalyn walked into the kitchen. “I just saw Banks, and he was talking gibberish. Something about wanting chocolate cake with raspberry filling.”
Trinity’s fingers stroked over the back of my neck in a firm caress as she spoke to Madalyn. “I think the bakery has that, actually. I remember sampling it when Arella got married. But she went with a vanilla cake and vanilla bean icing. It was simple, beautiful, and so delicious, I had three slices before I realized it.”
“Nothing wrong with simple,” I said, letting my head rest on her shoulder while she continued to rub her soft fingertips over my stiff neck. “And I’m partial to vanilla.”
