Page 31 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

All I can do is my best. All I can do is follow my convictions to lead with love. But…even God, as the most perfect parent in the universe, lost His children to their free will. I could do everything right, and…and still…

“Zahra.”

When Alexios’s hand falls against my shoulder, I lurch backward, away from him, toward my bed.

My heart races as I stare at him, and he closes his fingers to draw his hand to his side. “My apologies.”

Managing my breaths, I respond with level-headed, don’t-wake-baby calm. “Xios, if you start touching me without warning, I will snap your twig body in half over my knee.”

His closed hand redirects to press his fingers against his mouth. Hoarse, he clears his throat, then repeats, “My…apologies.” He swallows. “Your feelings shifted into places that worried me, but I don’t know what came over me. Touch is not usually my go-to.” His deep gray-blue eyes tinge with genuine concern. “Are you all right? Is there anything I can do to help ease your nerves?”

“Nerves?” I wet my lips, lift my arms, cross them one way, then the other, and finally plant my hands at my hips. My palms are sweaty. For some reason. I wipe them on my shirt. “What nerves?”

Alexios stares at me. Long moments slip by. Moving his attention to my baby, he murmurs, “You’d feel better if you unloaded some of those emotions on me.”

“Nah, I’m good. Great even. What emotions, actually?” I yawn, and stretch. “Wow. Would you look at the time. I need to play my silly little phone games until I pass out.”

Alexios perks, pulling his sleek black phone out of his pocket. “What silly little phone games do you play?”

I will not be saying the title of the vampire dating sim monstrosity I play in front of an infant, and—oh look—Ash is here, too.

“May we play any of them together?” Alexios asks.

Absolutely not.

Gracious. He looks so innocent in this moment. He does not need to read the dramatic romance nonsense I do and add anything else to his flirting repertoire. He already looks like the picture archetype of my favorite options—the tall, dark, broodingly beautiful, and dastardly sort.

His expression falls in response to my deer-in-headlights silence. Pitiful, he murmurs, “Not even Monopoly Go?”

I accidentally blink in tandem, one eye, then the other. “How about MonopolyNo?” I march toward him, turn him around, and usher him to the door. “Goodnight, Xios. Text me that essay about all your powers and abilities as soon as you can, ’kay? ’Preciate it. Bye.”

I close my door on him, take a deep breath, and look back at my…myson.

Emotion threatens, so I stretch my fingers.

No.

Nope.

I am not breaking down in tearsagain. Not tonight. I can’t do that every night.

It’s impractical. And being impractical is a sign of emotionalimmaturity. And I won’t be an emotionally immature parent. That is the very least I can do if perfection is unattainable and may not make a difference in the end.

Carefully and slowly, I move Ash’s bed up to mine, so I can reach him after I change into my PJs, brush my teeth, and lie down.

I will do my best…because that’s all I can do.

And I will make sure my little boy knows he is loved.

Chapter 8

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This guy doesn’t likefood. Must be some kind ofopposites attractsoulmate nonsense.

“I can’t believe you bought a car,” Alexios says, holding my dear sweet son—who I was assured profusely would not combust if I took him out in public at mere weeks old. I’d have fought more about germs, but. You know. The dirt eating, thing. Ash is going to grow up to be just like the sand eater kid we have at the school where I work. Blankly following behind me and the cart full of bulk wipes and other assorted baby supplies, Alexios whispers, “You just…you went out. And you bought anentire car.”

I needed a back seat, which my motorcycles don’t have. I can’t put a baby car seat in the side buggy I use for groceries, right? No matter how durable the fae are, I will not be doing science experiments on whether or not that is safe for my son.

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