Page 25 of Forged

He was twisted around enough already, so opening the door and finding his mum there with the kids instead of Imogen was not anything he was ready for.

“Hello, dear,” his mum said from the kitchen, where she was deep in the middle of cooking supper. “You’re looking a little flushed. I wish they wouldn’t make you work outside, like a common street person.”

Nick pressed his lips together and frowned as he went to pick Macy up from the playpen in the middle of the lounge floor. Both of his babies instantly started squealing for his attention as soon as he came through the door. Once he had Macy secure, he picked up Jordan in his other arm. Right now, he had the strength to lift both kids, but Jordan was growing like a weed, and someday managing both of them like that would be too much, even for a blacksmith.

Which was one argument as to why he wanted his babies with him as much as possible.

“You’re cooking?” he asked as he carried the babies into the kitchen.

“Someone has to,” his mum said, still giving most of her attention to the pots and pans on the hob.

“I do know how to cook,” Nick said. “I was planning to make spaghetti tonight.”

His mom tsked. “Spaghetti is far too messy for toddlers. They need good, wholesome food that can be cut into small, manageable pieces.”

Nick thought about arguing for all of three seconds before deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle.

“You look overtired and flustered,” his mum said, leaving the hob to take Macy from him.

“I’ve got them both,” Nick said, unable to keep Macy as long as he was holding Jordan. Macy let her granny know just what she thought about that by screaming.

“Hush, darling,” she said, pulling the hand Macy had just stuck in her mouth out. She turned to Nick and said, “You don’t need the stress and strain of taking care of these dear ones when you have so much else to do.”

Nick arched an eyebrow. He pretended to be interested in what was cooking so he could step out of the line of his mum’s confrontational stare. “I love my children. I love taking care of them.”

“Yes, but you’re a man, dear,” his mum insisted. “You should be the breadwinner, not the caregiver.”

“Mum, that’s so twentieth-century,” he said, turning to her with a sigh.

“You’re young, Nicholas. You have a life to live.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “I’m not giving my children to you. They stay with me. End of discussion.”

His mum hummed and turned back to the stove with Macy squirming in her arms.

“How is your sculpture progressing?” she asked with a sneaky sideways peek.

Nick sighed. That comment was as much an argument for him to give her the kids as blatantly asking for them. Instead of rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation, he grabbed Jordan’s hand and pretended to be a big, ugly ogre devouring it. That made Jordan laugh hilariously, which made everything better in his soul.

“I got a lot of work done on the unicorn today,” he said as if speaking to Jordan. “The structure is all in place, and now it’s just a matter of refining the details.”

“The clock is ticking, isn’t it?” his mum asked. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have loads more free time for your art, and for other things?” She sent him a look that obviously meant dating.

“End of story, Mum,” he said, meeting her eyes firmly. “End of story.”

He doubted it was the end of the story, though.

It wasn’t the end of the story when his mum showed up two days later to take the kids to her place because Imogen needed to study. Apparently. It wasn’t the end of the story when she asked to have them for the entire weekend. Nick flat-out said no to that.

Of course, then he had to come up with a way to justify why he wanted the kids with him that weekend. He didn’t have a specific reason, but the part of him that balked at outright lying to his mum about anything demanded some sort of an alibi.

“I should just be able to tell her to mind her own business and be done with it,” he told Bax on their walk Friday morning. “I’m a grown man and she’s overstepping.”

Bax hummed, his manner and his strides calm and easy. “She’s your mum. I wouldn’t want to tell my mum off for anything either. Even if she was wrong.”

Nick turned to study him. “Has your mum ever been wrong?”

Bax snorted, then said, “No, of course not. She’s my mum.” He then grinned wickedly.

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