Page 64 of They Call Him Reaper

I stand so she can adjust herself, since I know she’s itching to hold him again. Her entire body melts and lights up at the same time once he’s settled in her arms. It’s the sunny part of her that I once tried to ignore. Our baby fusses a little, causing her to talk to him in the soothing voice she’s used on me several times. It only makes me love her more.

“Have you thought of any names?” Inaya asks as she attempts to breastfeed again.

The question makes me realize that I haven’t. I search my brain, but nothing comes to mind outside of my need to protect them.

“We still have a little time,” I offer. “I’m sure we can come up with something after you rest.”

She nods, appeased. I help her fix her pillows so she can get comfortable. My wife and son are my top priority.

“I love you.” I know I’ve told her other times before, but my timing just feels out of the blue; regardless, I choose to finish my thought. “And thank you for giving me more than I thought I’d ever have. More than I thought I deserved.”

Inaya grabs my hand. “Most of your life weren’t decisions you made. You deserve so much more, my love.”

“If for no one else, I’ll be the good guy you deserve. I’ll treat you and our son well.”

“I believe you and expect it.” She pauses like she’s trying to decide how to voice the next part. “I’m fine with gray.”

“Gray? Like a name?”

Inaya laughs. “No, your moral character.”

“Protect my family by any means necessary? Of course,” I agree with a kiss on her lips. “Rest,mi amor.”

FORTY-TWO

Inaya

It’s beena couple of months and Marius Felipe Angel Orejón is still trying to get the groove of sleeping. His name is a mouthful, but it is all of our deceased parents’ names together sans the asshole who killed all of them. We thought Mari could be unisex but opted to use a masculine name containing my mother’s name, with hers being reserved as a nickname. It wasn’t a name I’ve heard in passing and I like the link to the God of War because everything that got him here was a battle.

I’ve just finished feeding and burping him, so I’m now taking him around the house to calm his latest fit. It doesn’t help that he looks like a tanned version of his dad. Speaking of Dante, I start humming the song I was singing when I sewed his leg wound shut.

Marius stops fussing to look up at me while I hum. I fix him in my arms so we’re looking at each other as I start to singFix youby Coldplay to him. He smiles a little, content with being entertained by me. I get through the first verse as I disappear into one of Andrea’s many rooms without paying attention to my surroundings.

I jump a little once I hear a male’s voice harmonizing with mine during the chorus. Looking around, I find that Andrea is also sitting in a room that has many instruments on display. It must be his music room. He picks up the guitar next to him and starts strumming and singing the second verse. Playing instruments and singing are two things I didn’t know he could do.

My shock dissipates in time to join him for the chorus. Plus, my favorite part is coming when the music becomes faster. He stands without missing a note, probably to dance it out as well. We both start rocking around the time the drums would have kicked in if it were a full band, singing the breakdown together.

When the song gets quiet again, I nod at him to let him know I want him to sing the last part that closes out the song. I sit down as he finishes the song, completely impressed by his talent. I position little Marius in my lap so I can make his little hands clap for Andrea. He smirks and puts down the guitar.

“I’m officially a fan, Andrea,” I praise him.

“Me too,” I hear Delaney say, as she enters the room.

Our spouses must have heard us, because they’ve both made their way into the room without my notice. I’m not all that surprised by Dante. He’s a professional at watching people, undetected.

Delaney moves into Andrea’s space and the way she cups his cheek and kisses him seems to linger on the possessive side. I smile on the inside because they’re a cute couple, but I also don’t think she realizes that she’s done the female equivalent of pissing on her territory. It seems more like a habit than anything actually directed at me, but it’s still funny. I don’t think she fully understands the level of crazy in which my husband operates. There is no way I’d put another man’s life in danger by being too friendly.

Still, our impromptu sing-along was a lot of fun.

“Come, wife. This is Andrea’s private music room,” my husband informs me from the door.

“Ah, that makes sense,” I say as I stand. “I’m sorry for intruding, Andrea. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I noticed,” he admits with a laugh. “It’s okay. When I want to be left alone, I close the door. It’s fun having a fellow singer in the house.”

“I am by no means on your level.” I’m not being humble, it's the truth. I can carry a tune, but Andrea is rock star worthy. “Marius enjoyed it,” I point out since he hasn’t cried since.

Andrea moves forward. “May I?” He asks, looking between Dante and me.

---