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Shrugging, I glance at the bedroom where those two, tiny children will soon sleep. I’ve been on edge about them since Natasha said they were getting attached to the mansion. When I compared myself and my house to what they knew back with their dad, I felt like a fucking hero. Now, I’m worried I can’t live up to their expensive tastes.
“I don’t know how to be a dad,” I say, looking around the place and seeing only flaws.
“Do you have any pictures of them?” Sync asks. “Like on your phone?”
I yank my phone from my pocket and swipe to one of them taken in my backyard.
Sync explains, “First thing is you’ve got to use their names a lot like it’s really cool how they aren’t just Thing One and Thing Two. Part of being a dad is acting as if your kids are the first ones to ever accomplish anything.”
Feeling like they’re fucking with me, I almost shove my phone back in my pocket. When they continue staring, I break under the pressure.
“This here is Hector,” I mutter and point at the photo. “He’s younger by four months but still three years old. It’s complicated. I think his mom was a slutty chick or something.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” Pork Chop interrupts. “You aren’t supposed to focus on their flaws.”
Sync takes my phone and looks at the men. “Hector is a little younger than Jacinda, but he’s nearly as tall as his sister. Feisty little shit, too. Always smiling. Fun kid.”
Frowning, I ask, “How do you know that shit?”
“What I said is generic enough to be anyone’s kid. But Kiera also told me about her new friends.”
“Well, the girl always smiles, too,” I announce like Sync would about his daughters. “The kids are like twins.”
“You forgot to say her name forty times,” Tack says, sauntering over to us. “Like how Sync is constantly mentioning his daughters by name, as if anyone can tell them apart.”
“I can,” I grumble at him.
“No, you just think you can. I used to believe the same thing until I realized I’d been calling Deirdre by her sister’s name for a year.”
“That’s why she doesn’t like you,” Sync replies and swipes through the pictures. “Here’s a good one. Jacinda and Hector are great with animals. None of that fur-yanking bullshit like some little brats.”
I look at the photo Natasha sent me two days ago. The kids are sitting together on the back of a horse. They look so little on the massive animal. As soon as I saw the picture, I wanted to get them down and keep them safe. But it’s easy to care about someone when they’re just an idea.
“I only ever wanted Natasha,” I admit to the men. “I didn’t think about the stuff that comes with having her. Like, I need to deal with her security detail. Plus, I have to be a good dad to these kids. I thought I could just move her in here and make a baby and be normal.”
The guys get oddly quiet like I’m sharing too much. Tack pats my back and nods.
“We all come with baggage. Like, how Natasha will need to get used to us showing up here or you staying out late because you’ve got to deal with a dead fuck. Our lives are complicated, just like hers. But for the right woman, shouldn’t you be willing to lose a part of yourself to win all of her?”
Tack’s words settle my bad mood. I woke up feeling like my life didn’t belong to me. That’s something I haven’t dealt with since I was a kid bouncing from house to house.
My current home might be mostly empty, but it’s mine. I feel protective of it. I don’t want so many people touching my stuff. I hate how my cats need to hide with these people around.
Another part of me resents painting those rooms or sticking a big playset in my backyard. It feels like this house is morphing from being mine to belonging to the kids.
Though I promised Natasha how I would view Jacinda and Hector as mine, I don’t know them. We’ve met twice. I’m nervous about seeing them again. I imagine Hector and Jacinda liking their fancy mansion and spending time with all those employees who kiss their little asses. Will they think I’m so cool when I’m not bending over backward for them?
That’s why Tack’s words hit me just right. I’ve wanted Natasha for a long time, and she was nearly mine once. Less than three weeks stand between my current longing and calling her my wife.
To keep Natasha, I’m willing to redo the house and learn to be a dad. I can get used to security following us around whenever we go out somewhere. I’m willing to give up a whole lot of myself to make Natasha mine.
NATASHA
Hector starts his day in an odd mood. I suspect he’s had a bad dream. I wake to him crawling in bed with me. His blue eyes are intense as if he doesn’t feel safe. I wrap him in my arms and kiss his little face. Hector mimics me when I play with his hair. His fingers go to my eye, still noticeably bruised when I don’t wear makeup.
“You’re going to see your new room today,” I whisper. “Bear painted the walls blue because he knows you like that color.”
Hector seems confused. I don’t blame him. We’re getting settled at the mansion. The kids are attached to my room and often look at the pictures on my tackboard.
