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During her ten-year marriage, she had only spent a total of three weeks with her husband and had never shared a bed or even wanted to. He had married her for his kids, and she had married him for hers. In the end, she got them all and loved them to bits.
It seemed that they liked her also since they all still lived at home. All seven of her girls were under one roof at the same time almost every night. It was a good thing that Bradford had bought a large old house when he and his first wife Judith started to have kids. The six-bedroom house was full, with Agatha in the attic and Buzz on the couch right now. They were still apt to stay over at a boyfriend’s or just a male friend at any time, but it had always seen that way.
Sera didn’t want to put Violet in her own room tonight, so she took her to bed with her. Tonight, she needed the closeness of her daughter’s body to hers.
After stripping out of her work clothes, she pulled on a pale green “Bastan” shirt and matching yellow shorts. Dimming the lights in the room, she climbed in beside her little girl and took a sip of wine as she looked over the most adorable little thing around. Not that Emma wasn’t just as cute, but the surly teen’s attitude got in the way sometimes.
Like Emma, Violet had the most beautiful blue eyes Sera had ever seen. Each had inherited that from their father, a father that they shared by sheer chance. A father that had no idea he was even a father at all.
Not that she had intentionally not told him about Emma. She had only known his first name and hadn’t seen him for years after it happened. Once she had finally known his last name, he was already happily married. At least then, he was.
During a low point in his marriage and a drunken Christmas party a few years later, they had hooked up again. This time, it seemed the condom had broken, and she got Violet while he remained married for another few years. At the time, she had been married as well.
Not one moment had Sera regretted that drunken interaction that had given her the baby. She was the baby of the house, and always had been.
It had been easy to not tell Harrison he was a father; he couldn’t remember her from college, nor what had happened at that party. So far, he had said nothing about either one, so she assumed he didn’t remember her and couldn’t remember that night. But man, she did … often.
Running a hand over her baby’s hair, she didn’t regret not telling him. She didn’t want to share her kids with anyone. They were hers, and Harrison Dean would never know about them. He may not like her or do anything but piss her off at work, but when she got home, it was his eyes that their daughters had and his hair she got to caress. His babies that she got to love when she couldn’t love him.
