Page 228 of Deceit

Kyson rolls his eyes because he knows how much of that is bullshit. “My ass. Did you blow Em’s cover?”

“I did, but if I tell you why you all would’ve all done the same thing.” Both sets of eyes fall on my wife, and she leans back slightly into my chest.

“I was working on it,” she claims lightly.

“Dudes, this was a baby hanging out video,” Mills censures, getting a hold of the phone again and showing us himself and Atlas. “Hey, look who it is.” He wiggles his brows. “She loves me.”

“I’m here to teach Kyson how to change a shitty diaper,” Marty says behind him.

“We’ll keep those for Mills,” Kyson counters somewhere. “Since that’s all he’s full of.”

The guys chuckle and Mills shakes his head with a ghost of a smile playing off his mouth. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nods. “Sounds good, thank you.”

“Anything for you, Ems.” He winks and salutes with his two fingers over his forehead. “See ya later, Bish. Take care of our girl.”

Emmy hangs up and drops it on the counter, hanging her head into her chest.

I manually turn her around to face me, but I don’t find tears in her eyes. I see the same darkness in her that I saw earlier.

“Talk to me,” I hedge softly. “I know you miss them, but we’re almost done.”

“Are we?”

I lift her chin with the crook of my finger, hearing the defeat in her tone. “He’d be dead already if you didn’t want to do it yourself.” I bring my thumb up to brush her bottom lip. “But it’s not fully my fight, is it?”

She shakes her head and I slowly crack at the way she looks as if she wants to just disappear right now.

Being a brand new mother should never be like this. Killing her baby daddy shouldn’t be an option for her right now. But turning him into the cops won’t have the same effect when he’s still alive and always a threat in her mind. The possible fear of him getting out, the chances of an earlier parole, or sending someone else to hurt her. Emmy knows what her only option is to keep the twins safe.

“How did you find me?” she asks, changing the subject which is a common Emmy trick when she wants to pivot off a conversation.

My lips curl into an asshole-ish smile. “I found a few ways.” Emmy bristles but doesn’t push the subject. “Emmy.”

“Mhm?”

“I want you to marry me again.”

Emmy blinks at me then just blatantly stares. “Huh?”

“I want you—“ I press my body firmer into hers just to get closer and for her to feel how serious I am. “—to marry me again. The boys already know anyway.”

“They what?” Her eyes widen before her palms slam into my chest. “What did you do?”

I shrug. “You give me territorial issues.”

“This ismyfault?” I perk a knowing brow and her face falls. “This is my fault.”

My wife couldn’t sound more overthrown by the situation if she tried. And my shitty ass can’t find it in me to feel sorry for it.

Leaning in, I lift Emmy and place her on the kitchen counter and she laces her fingers with mine, taking a strong interest in them.

“You should’ve always been here.”

I know.

I should be the father of those twins.

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