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She just doesn’t know it yet.
A sheet falls from the cupboard door, making Sam’s bottom lip tremble, then he stamps his feet in what is sure to be a full-blown tantrum.
Although I don’t agree with Sky that terrible twos exist, I must admit he shows a clear level of frustration that needs to be channeled more appropriately.
Paige takes a deep breath and sighs. Her green eyes shimmer, and my wife swallows her emotion while the castle crumples around her, and both boys’ cries become deafening.
“Jesus!” I grind my teeth in annoyance. As if I don’t have enough to do while Bren fucks off playing Casanova with his wife and shirks his duties onto me, now I’m left with an overly emotional wife that risks raising her blood pressure.
“Fucking prick,” I spit and push back on my chair. “Looks like I’m making a fucking castle.”
PAIGE
I swipe at the tear trickling down my face, and scoff on the emotion clogged in my throat. When I came up with the idea to build the boys a den from bed sheets, I never expected it to be so difficult. But each time Sam turns, he takes a sheet down with him, and each time that happens, Seb gets frustrated and cries.
My bump tightens again, and I place a hand over the sharp pain that has me wanting to cry out. One good thing is, at least Oscar isn’t here to panic me over what are Braxton hicks.
The bedroom door swings open, and the three of us jump. Oscar stands with his hands on his hips, glaring down at the room covered in sheets along with our tears.
“Osss.” Seb makes grabby hands toward Oscar, who looks torn at what to do. His eyes dart to mine, his face softens, and his tight shoulders relax as though he’s come to a decision, then he bends and scoops Seb up.
“Stop with the crying, Sebastian, you’re hurting my ears. I can’t think straight to build you a castle with the noise you’re making.”
Seb draws his head back to stare at Oscar, his lips clamp shut, and he sniffles, struggling to contain his upset.
Sam covered in snot and tears points at the crumpled sheets, as though trying to convey what’s happened.
“Yes. I can see, Samuel, it’s an absolute disaster.” Seb’s lip trembles. “But I’m going to build you the best castle possible.” He glances round the room, and I watch on in awe of my husband. “From such poor materials, I’m going to be limited. But I can try.”
A tear trickles down my face, but this time I can safely say it’s with pride.
Oscar O’Connell may be different. But he’s my different.
SEVEN
OSCAR
My night has been a clusterfuck. At one point, I swear I had a child’s finger in my nostrils. Sam tried to share his bottle of milk with me, the thought repugnant, and when Paige mentioned it was Sky’s breastmilk, I vomited in my mouth and had to freshen up. Naturally, my two nephews have become my shadows and insisted on brushing their teeth with me.
The boys clearly strive on structure and understanding, it’s something Bren and Sky appear to have none of.
For the hundredth time, I read that damn book, in every language I could fluently achieve. Getting them to sleep was easier than expected, as the boys were excited to be sleeping in a real castle. I even created them a hammock from the remnants of our sex swing.
This room is no longer being used as a pleasure room. No, that’s in the apartment below us, where we have a whole floor dedicated to my needs.
Voices filter through the room, and I rub my eyes as I turn my head to listen.
Bren’s gruff voice nears the bedroom. They shouldn’t be back yet, but it’s no surprise, their timekeeping has always been poor, so I jump to my feet with relief as he takes each child from my arms.
Straightening my shirt, I waste no time explaining what the problem is with his family. “It’s about time. Your children are out of control.” The heat radiates from Bren, and his jaw grinds from side to side. “I’m sure with some structure like I gave them last night there’s a chance you can turn their behavior around.” It pains me to admit, but it is true, they can turn it around.
Bren scoffs. “I can’t wait until your kid arrives, Oscar. You’re gonna wonder what the fuck hit you.” Then he releases a chuckle only he finds the humor in.
“Doubtful. My child will learn perfection the moment they breathe air,” I counter, staring boldly into his eyes.
“About that...” We turn to Paige; she clings to the doorframe, her face red and scrunched in pain.
“The baby is coming, Oscar.”
