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I press my finger to my lips a second time when Luca opens his mouth to speak.
He smiles, liking the game we’re playing. I’d gamble and say the kid just likes the fact that someone other than his older brother is paying attention to him. He seems starved for affection. He acted up yesterday in the car, especially after Sutton got upset and he noticed Mila paying attention to her.
Sutton squeals in delight when I approach the bed to pick her up.
“Shh!” Jace snaps as if he’s scared that I’ll go against my word if they simply act like children.
“Ready?” I ask all three of them.
“She’s going to be mad,” Jace says, climbing off the bed and looking over at the lump in the bed.
“I left a note,” I tell him, pointing to the hotel stationary on the bedside table. “She’ll join us when she’s ready.”
We’re only going downstairs for breakfast.
Mila hasn’t budged in over an hour and a half, and I can tell she’s actually asleep this time unlike she was when I climbed into the bed last night after reading Sutton a bedtime story.
Sutton seems less leery of me than she was yesterday the first time I held her, and that fact lights up a corner that has always been dark inside of me.
Luca acts like he’s won the lottery when he gets to press the button on the elevator.
“Jace gets to do it on the way up,” I tell him, earning a scowl from the youngest boy. Jace smiles, not arguing about it the way I thought he would. Letting Luca press the buttons has been yet one more sacrifice the kid has made.
“Want us to find a seat,” Jace asks, his eyes darting around the crowded little dining area.
“Nope. I’m going to need everyone’s help,” I say instead of explaining just how fast a child can be scooped up and carried away. “Are there any food allergies?”
“Bug bites make my legs itch,” Luca supplies helpfully.
“Luca isn’t inhaler dependent, but he has mild asthma. It usually only flares up when he gets too hot. Plates.” I hand each child a paper plate from the stack, urging a man that looks like he’s in desperate need of a caffeine fix ahead because I know we aren’t going to be the fastest moving group.
He nods his gratitude and heads right past us to the coffee pot like I predicted.
Sutton waves her plate in the air, hitting me in the face with it more than once. When I don’t react, she stops. I bet Mila would want to strangle me if I voiced the thought that raising kids is a lot like training a dog. Not paying attention to bad behavior will often times stop the bad behavior.
“Fruit?” I ask, handing a banana to Luca at his request and grabbing one for Sutton when she grunts and points.
“Nana,” she squeals, making me smile.
“Toast? Waffles? Eggs, sausage?”
Jace’s eyes grow wide at the selection.
“A little bit of everything?” I ask, ecstatic when he shakes his head.
As the waffles are cooking, I grab a strawberry yogurt for Sutton. Mila was giving her freeze-dried strawberries yesterday, another thing she pulled from her purse, so I’m guessing the yogurt is okay. I really need to find out if they’re allergic to anything. Eventually, we’re able to make our way to an empty table.
I tuck a napkin into the collar of Sutton’s pajama top and hand her a spoon, holding the yogurt on the table in front of her so she can scoop into it.
Jace does a little happy dance in his seat with every bite he takes of his food. I know the kid picked more food than he could eat, but it makes him happy, and, right now, that’s all we’re working on. I can’t wait to see the way he reacts when he sees the daily spread we have at the clubhouse. There are so many different people and preferences it’s akin to a major feast every time a meal is prepared.
“Jesus!”
I snap my eyes up to see Mila walking toward the table. Her hand is on her chest as if she’s concerned for the speed at which her heart is racing. She looks frantic, her hair a mess of dark hair on the top of her head.
There’s a sexiness about the way her wild eyes dart all over the place, checking to make sure the kids are okay and haven’t lost a limb or something.
Instead of fussing at me, she drops to the seat on the other side of Sutton’s highchair, running her hand over the child’s back.
