Page 43 of Forged

“Is it too much to ask for you to bring whatever you made for supper over here?” Nick asked hopefully. He finished cleaning up Jordan, walked him over to the playpen, and exchanged him for Macy, which didnotmake Jordan happy.

“I’m not sure the kids would like oysters, grilled steak, and cipollini onions with Meyer lemon nori butter,” Bax said, fighting to keep the resentment out of his voice.

“Oh,” Nick said, deflating a little as he pulled a handful of tissues from the box to wipe Macy’s snotty face. “That sounds amazing, but no, they wouldn’t eat it.”

“I can pack it all up and put it in the fridge so we can have it later,” Bax suggested.

Nick’s face pinched and lifted several times as a whole set of emotions ran through him. Finally, he said, “I’m not going to be able to leave them tonight, even to go across the hall. Not when they’re sick like this.”

“I understand,” Bax said, nodding and pushing himself forward. He grabbed the rubbish bin from the kitchen and brought it to the table to help Nick by cleaning up some of the mess. “Why don’t you deal with the kids and I’ll see what you have in your pantry for all of us.”

“That would be lovely,” Nick said, gusting out a breath.

He peeled away from a clingy Macy long enough to kiss Bax’s lips, but it was a cursory, ordinary kiss and not the kind he’d been hoping for that night. As soon as it was done, he had to give his full attention to his crying, snotty kid.

It was completely unfair of Bax to feel as much resentment as he did while carrying the bin back to the kitchen, then checking the pantry. Kids always came first. They couldn’t take care of themselves. They were sick. There was no possible way he could compete with that.

But that was the problem. There was no way he could compete with Jordan and Macy for Nick’s attention. Ordinarily, someone might have been able to step in to help, but luck was against them that night. It was wrong and selfish for Bax to be as irritated by the whole thing as he was.

There was nothing to be done but to toss a frozen pizza in the oven along with some chips from a bag, then to head over to his place to blow out candles, pack his gourmet meal away in containers, and put all the toys and lube back in the drawer of his bedside table.

“We could have had so much fun,” he sighed as he shut the drawer, then headed back over to Nick’s place.

“I’m really, really sorry about this,” Nick said as Bax walked back into the flat with one smaller container filled with bits from the supper he’d made. “My mum is a cold and cruel woman. I’m certain she’s doing this as a way to convince me to give her the kids permanently.”

That statement stopped Bax’s resentment in its tracks.

“That’s awful,” he said, putting the container of supper on the counter in the kitchen, then moving to pick Jordan up from the couch. “Is she really still on about taking the kids?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Nick sighed.

That was as far as the conversation went. The kids were done eating, they were seriously flagging, especially since Nick had just dosed them with baby cold medicine, and it was time for them to go to bed. Bax helped by carrying Jordan into the nursery that he and Macy shared, but he felt uncertain and uncomfortable about undressing a child he wasn’t technically related to.

“It’s fine,” Nick said, a hint of impatience in his voice as he stripped Macy and changed her nappy. “I know you don’t have any dubious intentions toward the kids. They’re not going toexplode if you take their clothes off. Jordan’s nighttime nappies are over there.”

Bax swallowed hard, trying not to be squeamish and reminding himself that helping with toddlers was an act of love as much as cooking a gourmet meal. That didn’t stop him from dreading what he would find when he took off Jordan’s nappy.

Fortunately, it was nothing gross. Jordan cried the whole time Bax fumbled his way through cleaning him with a wipe then putting a new nappy on, which he was sure he did wrong. He’d always imagined changing nappies was something you did for sweet little infants, not snotty, groggy three-year-olds who were having a bad night.

“There we go,” Nick said, somehow managing to sound loving and in control as he settled Macy into her crib. “Sleep it off, sunshine,” he told her, then bent over the crib to kiss her head.

He then came over to Bax and Jordan, taking Jordan from the changing table where Bax was still trying to get his arm into his pajamas. Nick slipped it in with no effort at all, then carried Jordan to his crib. Jordan lay down, but it was clear from his continued, squelchy crying that he wasn’t feeling well and was miserable.

“They’ll feel better in the morning,” Nick said as he turned off the light and stepped into the hall with Bax. “At least, I hope they’ll feel better in the morning.” He sent Bax a wide-eyed look of dread.

They headed into the main room and set to work cleaning up the remnants of the hasty supper, along with what felt like a thousand used tissues. As much as he tried to bat them away, unkind thoughts kept attacking Bax. He hoped he didn’t catch the kids’ germs. He hoped they slept into next Thursday. Maybe Mrs. Turner really should take the kids.

He stopped himself at that last thought and mentally slapped himself. Mrs. Turner was a manipulative shrew who was trying to bend her son to her will. Nick loved being a dad. Taking his kids from him would kill him.

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

“Can I heat up this amazing food you made for me in the microwave?” Nick asked, stepping up behind Bax as he cleaned the kitchen counter. He circled his arms around Bax to grab the container that had been left out and kissed Bax’s neck.

Bax melted, but too much of the melt was from the withering thought of how futile it was for him to vie for Nick’s attention.

“Yeah, that should be fine,” he said. He twisted in Nick’s arms and embraced him. “Whatever you want.”

He wiggled his eyebrows, hinting that he really would give Nickwhateverhe wanted, but instead of taking the bait, Nick smiled and said, “Good, because after that palaver, all I want is to sprawl on the couch with food in my belly and my man in my arms as we watch the football or whatever.”

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