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And from the way she’s kissing me back…the feeling is mutual.
25
HARPER
On my way back to the penthouse, I stop to buy a few things for the kids. I figure my mom might have bought them some clothes after the fire, but I didn’t stop to grab anything when I was in a rush to get away from her this morning. The relief of knowing I have the insurance money puts a spring in my step as I quickly purchase some basic, cozy winter clothes for my children.
The door clicks shut behind me as I step into the penthouse with my arms full of shopping bags, and the sight before me stops me in my tracks. Olivia and Peter sit at the table, their faces covered in what appears to be chocolate ice cream. Amusement washes over me.
“Alright, what happened here?” I ask, trying to maintain a stern tone while suppressing a smile.
Benedict looks up from where he’s wiping down the counter, his broad shoulders tensing under his fitted shirt. He raises an eyebrow and smirks, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, your little Peter was screaming for you, so we thought some ice cream might calm him down,” he explains casually, tossing the cloth into the sink.
I sigh, shaking my head as I approach the table. My heart swells with warmth at the sight of my children bonding with Benedict, but I can’t help but worry about their sugar intake. “And I see it worked wonders,” I tease, gently wiping Olivia’s face with a napkin.
“Mommy! We made a mess!” Peter exclaims, grinning widely as ice cream drips down his chin.
“I can see that, but it’s worth it when you’re having fun,” I admit, sharing a knowing glance with Benedict.
“Fun? That’s putting it mildly,” Benedict chuckles, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “These two are a force to be reckoned with when they’re together.”
“Tell me about it,” I say with a laugh, catching Olivia’s hand before she can smear more ice cream on her brother. She pouts, but I know she means well.
“Alright, you two,” I announce, gathering Olivia and Peter in my arms as they giggle at their ice-cream-covered faces. “It’s time for a bath, and then we’ll have dinner and make some Christmas cookies. Sound good?”
“Yay!” they both exclaim, their excitement contagious.
I glance back at Benedict, who flashes me a warm smile before turning his attention to the kitchen, starting to clean it up. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him taking charge, a trait I’ve come to admire since he came into our our lives. Usually, when it comes to the kids, I’m the one cleaning up everything.
Leading Olivia and Peter to our shared bedroom, I help them undress, making sure to place their sticky clothes in the hamper. Their laughter fills the air as I turn on the water, adjusting the temperature just right. Steam rises from the tub and the scent of lavender shampoo fills the room.
“Can I go first?” Olivia asks, her big eyes pleading with me.
“Of course, sweetheart,” I say, lifting her gently into the warm water. She sighs contentedly as she sinks into the bubbles.
“Mom, can I have the special boat?” Peter chimes in, pointing to the wooden toy I bought during one of our beach vacations. I was surprised to find his favorite bath toy in a corner of the apartment that remained after the fire. It’s a little charred around the edges, but still floats.
“Sure thing, buddy,” I reply, handing it over to him while keeping an eye on Olivia.
As I wash their hair and bodies, scrubbing away the remnants of their ice cream escapade, I can’t help but feel grateful for this moment. Despite the chaos that has befallen us recently, there’s something comforting about the simplicity of giving my children a bath.
“Okay, Olivia, you’re all done,” I announce, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before lifting Peter into the tub.
“Your turn, little man,” I say, watching as he eagerly begins playing with the boat, splashing water around the tub with delight.
“Mom! Look, I made a wave!” Peter exclaims, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Wow, that’s impressive,” I praise him, finishing up his bath and wrapping him in a towel as well. “Alright, let’s get you two dried off and dressed for dinner. How about you wear…your new Christmas pajamas?” I pull the matching sets out of the shopping bag with a flourish.
“Yes! Christmas pajamas!” Olivia shouts, her eyes lighting up at the idea.
The warmth of the bathroom slowly dissipates as I help Olivia and Peter into their new clothes. The red and green patterns are a stark contrast to the crisp white towels wrapped around their small bodies. The air is filled with the faint scent of lavender from their bubble bath, adding a calming note to the atmosphere.
“Mommy,” Olivia begins hesitantly, her eyes betraying a sense of uncertainty and fear. “We don’t have to go back to live with Daddy, do we?”
“No,” I respond emphatically, kneeling in front of her so she can see the fierce protectiveness in my gaze. “We will never live with him ever again. We are safe now. I promise. We’re going to stay with Benedict and Hudson and Antonio for now.”
“Oh,” she says in a much lighter tone, visibly relieved. “How long will we stay with them?”
