Page 25 of The Enemy Face Off

Siblings belong together, and there's no way I would tear them apart.

The adoption process for Jonah is well underway. If it all goes to plan, I'll be issued a temporary custody order for him at the same time as finalizing Josie's custody.

"I should probably get going," I say, keen to hit the road and try to beat rush hour. "Mind if I say goodbye to Josie and Jonah?"

"Oh, not at all," Robyn answers.

As the three of us get up, Mike says, "Thank you for doing this, Milo."

I instantly know what he's referring to. "Keeping them together is the right thing to do."

"Maybe. But not all men would make the same decision. I want you to know how much I"—he looks at his wife and she gives a small nod—"how much we both respect you. We're here for you. Anything you need, whether it's help with the kids or advice, just let us know."

"I will."

We step out into the backyard. Grace is supervising the kids who are sitting side by side in a small sandbox. Josie is showing Jonah how to use a bucket to mold a castle, while he clumsily packs sand and laughs when it tumbles down.

I didn't think twice about taking Jonah, as well as Josie. It really was a no-brainer. But I have to confess, a part of me was worried that I wouldn't feel the same way about him as I would for Josie.

But from the moment I laid eyes on the little guy in the living room, I experienced a pull in my gut like I've never had before. Whether I'm related to him by blood or not, I knew then and there that I'd love them both equally as my own.

"And good luck with the house hunting tomorrow," Robyn says. "I hope you find your dream home."

"Yeah," I say, staring at my kids playing in the backyard. "I think I have."

"Are you surethisis the house you're looking for?"

The disdain in Willow Wilkins' voice is obvious, and I bite my tongue so I don't snap at her.

She's been showing me properties around Comfort Bay since the summer, usually ones on what's been dubbed Millionaire's Mile. It's an exclusive enclave in the hills overlooking the Pacific Ocean, where pricesstartat ten million.

It's not that I can't afford a place like that. I've been smart with money and contract negotiations my entire career and have a healthy sum stashed away in savings and investments.

But I don't want to raise my kids in a mega mansion.

I want somewhere that's small and cozy and feels like home, not like it belongs in an architectural magazine. A place where we can play basketball in the driveway or squirt each other with water guns in the backyard on hot summer days, creating simple childhood memories they can treasure forever.

This house has caused friction between Willow and me, since her commission just took a hefty cut. But she's apparently the best realtor in the county, and with the season starting and plans to take custody of Josie and Jonah, I've been too busy to find another agent. So I guess I'm just going to have to grin and bear it.

"It's perfect. I'll take it," I say to Willow once we've completed the walkthrough.

Sure, it's not much—just a three-bed, one-bath bungalow on a quiet cul-de-sac a few blocks from Main Street. But it feels homey and safe, and it's the kind of place I can picture us living in. I can always hire a contractor to add another bathroom or more space later.

"But you haven't even looked outside."

I peer out the kitchen window at the decent-sized backyard. It's fully fenced with a few palm trees scattered along the back fence line. There's even plenty of space for a large deck and a pool in the future.

"Looks good to me," I say.

Willow's phone buzzes. "Sorry. I need to take this. Go have a look outside. It's quite close to the neighbor, especially on the left side. You might want to see if that works for you."

"All right," I say, stepping outside as she takes the call.

I want to check out this neighbor situation and see how close it really is. One thing I really value is my privacy.

I walk up to the fence line and glance over. "Holy moly," I mutter under my breath, and it has nothing to do with the proximity to the neighboring house—Willow was exaggerating, it's a fine distance apart—it'swhomy soon-to-be new neighbor is.

"Those evil stepsisters got you doing all the chores again?" I call out.

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