Page 84 of Vows in Sin
She runs a hand through my hair, ruffling it. “So, so happy.”
My heart is whole.
“Let’s see if we can make you even happier than that.” I carry her off to bed to do all the naughty things that I know put a smile on her face.
29
Reign
I step over a pile of laundry, grabbing Mr. Bear’s toy stroller from the floor before I trip over the damn thing and break my neck. I park it by the back door in the kitchen. “Pure madness, this bloody house!”
We’re overdue for a family tidy-up. But I’ll have to be the bad guy to make it happen. And—it’s my night to cook.
Leaning my ass against the edge of the kitchen island, I flip the reading glasses from the top of my head to the bridge of my nose. Seraphina ordered them for me. Peering at my phone screen, I pull up the app she downloaded on my phone.
“Who knew you could get fried chicken delivered in Italy? From your phone no less.” I tap on my restaurant of choice. “Alright, let’s see. Blaze and Cleo. Tabby and Hunter,”—the pair now shares as much interest in one another as they do in patching people up— “me, baby doll.”
Six mouths to feed so far.
Who else?
Eloise’s parents are part of our Tech program. They’re sweating night and day trying to hack into the Moretti systems. Eloise is pleased to stay with us as much as she can while her parents are working. Especially since Eloise is an avid reader and Seraphina has no limit on the number of storybooks she’ll read. My hard limit is two books. Maybe three. I have been told I’m better at the animal voices. I do a magnificent lion.
Throwing back my head, I holler at the puzzlers in the dining room. “Doll, is Eloise staying for dinner tonight?”
“Is it your night to cook, Uncle Renan?” A little voice shouts back.
“Yes, Eloise, love. It’s my night.”
Two voices chorus back with a resounding, “Yes!” One belonging to Seraphina, and a younger, more emphatic one from Eloise. They’ve been working on a jungle puzzle and won’t stop till the Colonel delivers our tea.
“Right-O.”
I go back to my app. There’s no way Dame’s not going to come. Not if he gets wind of what I’m ordering. He shies away when it’s Tabby’s night to cook, opting for the safety of his microwave over her eccentric recipes. I shoot Dame a text, letting him know I’m calling the Colonel. I get an immediate RSVP.
“Dame’s in,” I murmur to myself. “We’ll practically need a bucket for him.”
Fuck. Lost count. I’ll order extra. Cleo and Seraphina can take leftovers with them to preschool for their lunch tomorrow.
It’s a burgeoning form of homeschooling-slash-unschooling in the pool house for now, but Cleo has high hopes, and Seraphina has an insatiable work ethic.
My thumbs fly over the phone screen, tapping the app. “Mashed potatoes and gravy. Double corn. Better make it three buckets.”
Eloise’s little face peers around the doorframe, a colorful puzzle piece pinched between her fingers. She gives me what Seraphina calls her ‘serious eyes.’ “Don’t forget the extra corncobs.”
I give her the exact look I used to provide Tabby with at this age.
“Please,” she adds.
“Good girl,” I say. “And they’re already ordered, my love.”
“Thank you,” she singsongs as she disappears.
I double-check the order. “Alright. Done.” I leave the phone and glasses on the counter, tackling the morning’s dishes in the sink. Preferring to wash by hand over using the dishwasher, I plunge toast-crumbed plates and milky bowls into the warm, sudsy water for scrubbing. I’m wiping counters when my phone pings with a delivery notification. “Perfect timing. And it’ll be paper plates tonight,” I mumble to no one in particular. I call Dame to ask him to pick the order up at the gate on his way.
“Dinner!” I bellow. Footsteps. Like a herd of buffalo.
We’ve been banished from the large dining room table. Jungle puzzle. We’ll have to squeeze in at the round kitchen table. It’s cozy in here, though, the walls decorated with family photos Seraphina’s taken and doodles I’ve sketched.
