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“I like broccoli,” Isaac decided with a firm nod, much to his mother’s bemused delight. When his head was ducked, she shook her head and mouthed No, he doesn’t.
“Alright, guys,” Lana said a while later, after loading the dishwasher despite how much I objected. “We gotta get those showers going before bed,” she told them.
“Go on,” I said, jiggling a tired Clara. “It’ll be easier if you have your hands free,” I reasoned when she hesitated.
She couldn’t exactly argue with that, so she ushered the other kids upstairs, but stopped to look at the picture her son had drawn before flipping it upside down again.
Curious, I made my way over there once they were all gone, turning the paper over.
And there it was.
A big house with three little kids, a blob that I figured was Rodney—and not an entirely inaccurate representation of the dog that was snoring so loudly he kept waking himself up—and, at the center, a man and a woman, seeming like they were holding hands.
I had to venture a guess that this guy wasn’t Isaac’s real dad.
In fact, I was sure of it when I noticed that the house had a little guest house in the back.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel, knowing that he was having hopes of something serious between his mom and me. But I didn’t expect the kind of warm, floating sensation in my chest.
A wife, kids, that was what I’d always wanted for my future.
But I had no idea where Lana’s head was about it.
Shaking off those thoughts, I brought Clara with me into the living room, throwing on some random, quiet, sitcom, and resting her with her back against my chest, then swaying a bit side to side until I felt her go lax. Then another couple of minutes for good measure.
Upstairs, the water turned on and off twice, followed by some chatter, then a low, melodic sound as, I imagined, Hazel asked her mother to sing her something before bed.
A couple minutes later, I heard the water kick on one last time as Lana took advantage of a few minutes to herself before she made her way down the steps.
She froze halfway down, her eyes going all gooey as her head tipped to the side, watching us for a second.
“I kinda wish I had my phone,” she said, coming further down in her matching PJ set—a pink floral t-shirt and solid pink shorts. It wasn’t meant to be sexy. But I was pretty sure anything this woman put on would make me want to strip it off of her.
“Take a picture the next time,” I offered, watching as she faltered a bit at the landing.
“The next time?”
“I like your kids, Lana,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t mind helping you put Clara to sleep. Especially if she’s giving you a hard time.”
“She usually takes a lot longer to fall asleep,” she admitted as she walked across the living room toward me.
“She had a busy day.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, leaning forward to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, giving me a whiff of her soap and shampoo. Which shouldn’t have been as much of a turn-on as it was as she reached out to gently take Clara from me, and press her to her own chest.
“Thank you,” she mouthed as she jiggled the jostled baby as she took her upstairs.
“Fuck,” I hissed when I was alone, rubbing my hands down my face.
On a sigh, I made my way up the stairs as well, going into my room, and kicking out of my shoes, pulling off my shirt, wondering if an ice-cold shower was something I should consider before I crashed.
I still hadn’t made up my mind when there was a gentle tap at the door.
I made my way to it, pulling it open.
And there she was.
Giving me a small smile.
“I just wanted to thank you again,” she said. “For… everything,” she added, waving a hand out.
I needed to keep my fucking hands to myself.
Especially if she wasn’t sure about me yet, and her son was getting family ideas.
But I just… couldn’t fucking do it.
Reaching out, I grabbed the back of her neck, yanking her forward against my chest.
I waited a beat.
Looking for any sort of objection.
Not finding one, my lips crashed down on hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lana
Kids could be… a little much.
Especially when they weren’t your kids and you weren’t used to all their quirks.
But Seth had handled them… effortlessly. From getting belly laughs out of Clara to calmly answering Hazel over dinner when she seemed to be playing the Ten-Million-Questions game.
And Isaac, well, Isaac clearly looked up to him. Maybe too much, judging by the picture he’d drawn. But I wasn’t going to begrudge the kid having dreams of having a father in his life. Hell, I’d always wanted that for him too.
