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“Oh, he’s not—” I started, but Denny cut me off.
“Not that cute. For all I know, you jacked the prices up just to make me sweat.” Denny gave her a wink in return, which sent her into a fit of giggles as she slid him our room keys.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Xander’s lip twitch. Denny might have been amused at the prospect of playing Rylan’s grandfather, but Xander clearly was not.
“I’ll be staying in five-oh-five if you need anything,” Denny informed us on the way to the elevators. “Five-oh-six is for the three of you. Housekeeping should be up within the hour with a crib.”
“Thank you, Denny,” I said, taking the card.
He held up a hand. “No need. I’ll be expensing you for all this.”
“Then, you might as well have put it on my card,” Xander said sharply. “Cut out the middleman.”
“Nah. Safer if it’s on mine. We don’t know who else is active in this area. Once they realize that baby’s gone, we’re better off if no one knows Xander and Felicity Miller are anywhere near here. But if they come around asking, they’ve got no idea who the fuck Dennis Kerry even is.”
“Will you be continuing to play grandpa?” I asked, and Xander grunted disdainfully.
Denny smirked. “Why not? I’m just a family man on vacation with his little girl, her adorable son, and her idiot husband. Nothing suspicious about any of that.”
The elevator doors opened. Xander and I stepped inside with Rylan. Denny remained in the lobby.
“Get some shut eye. We start fresh first thing tomorrow morning.” Denny reached in and brushed a knuckle over Rylan’s tiny, chubby fist. “G’night, little man.”
* * *
The hotel room was nice. Maybe not as nice as the Four Seasons, but that kind of luxury had never mattered to me. It was clean, with a comfortable bed, a large tub, and a good corner for the crib.
More importantly, it contained two of the three men I loved the most in this world. Things were almost—if not quite—right again.
“I dreamed about this. Holding him again. Seeing him in front of me and knowing he was safe,” Xander said, lifting Rylan from the carrier. He tucked his finger into Rylan’s tiny fist. “Feels good. Just not quite as good as I’d hoped.”
I leaned forward sniffed at my son.
“He needs a diaper change. That might have something to do with it.”
Gently, I took Rylan from Xander and laid him down on the bed. Xander got up and brought me the diaper bag. Together, we got him cleaned up and into a fresh diaper.
It was like dancing, in a way. We knew the movements, could execute the steps, but we hadn’t practiced as much as we would have liked. We bumped into each other, got in each other’s way. If we’d been standing instead of kneeling next to the mattress, we probably would have stepped on each other’s feet.
But at least in our clumsiness, we found ourselves breathing nervous laughs and apologies instead of growling or shouting at each other. It was promising. It told me that someday we’d have this down to an art—and not the Jackson Pollock kind that occurred across my shirt when Rylan kicked himself free of the clean diaper and let us know, in the most chaotic way possible, that he also had to pee.
“Go take a shower if you want,” Xander offered once we got that situation under wraps. “I’ll watch him.”
I took him up on it. We’d both need to shower when we could from here on out. It was only the two of us now. No fleet of nannies, sinister or otherwise. No cloister of family around us, all clamoring for a little baby time. I found it strangely comforting, how we’d need to trade off, juggle responsibilities, make time. The very thing that would have terrified me about having kids just a year ago was now the thing I found myself enjoying the most.
It would be even harder when we had Ryder back with us, I reminded myself. Twice the babies, twice the dirty diapers. Twice the laundry, twice the feedings, two times as many spit-ups and tantrums and crayon marks on the walls. But even that didn’t scare me. There would twice as many kisses, too. Twice as many giggles and snuggles and first steps.
Our boys were worth all of it. Besides, Xander and I had faced way more dangerous things together than wrangling twins.
Rylan was asleep by the time I got out of the shower. I emerged, wrapped in a towel, just as Xander settled him in his crib for the night.
“Sorry,” he said, straightening. “He drifted off somewhere in the middle of ‘Thunder Road’.”
My cheeks flamed. “I didn’t realize I was singing that loud.”
“I can always hear you,” Xander said, and my face burned even hotter. We shared a mutual love of Bruce Springsteen, which I frequently indulged myself in while showering. But I always thought I’d been pretty quiet about that indulgence. Discreet.
Apparently not.
