Page 59 of Sweetest Sin
“Oh my God, my baby!” Peyton cries, scooping Damien up into her arms. “I went to go pee, and you were gone. You scared me! You went down the stairs by yourself? Are you okay?”
He looks at her like she’s grown two heads and then says, “Mommy, I’m not a baby. I’m three.” He lifts his fingers to emphasize his point.
Although I don’t have any kids to compare him to, I must admit, mine is damn cute.
“I know,” Peyton says, her tone patient. “But stairs can be dangerous. You could’ve fallen and gotten hurt. You could’ve bumped your head.”
“I didn’t fall,” Damien says. “I slid.”
Peyton sighs, and I stifle my laugh because she’s such a mom—worried about him when he’s not the least bit worried himself. She would have a heart attack if she knew the shit my brother and I had gotten into when we were little.
“Wait, you slid?” she asks. “You slid where?”
“Down the stairs.” He giggles and then wiggles his body, silently demanding to be let down.
When she lets him go, he takes off out of the kitchen, and we all follow and watch him fly up the stairs without a care in the world.
Peyton gasps while I laugh under my breath, and she scowls at me.
“Watch, Mommy!” Damien yells when he gets to the top.
He drops to his butt and then proceeds to slide down, hitting each step as he goes, laughing the entire way. When he’s about halfway down, Peyton cracks a smile and shakes her head.
“See?” he says when he gets to the bottom. “I slid. I didn’t fall.”
“I see,” she tells him. “But I need you to go slower while going up and down the stairs, please. You could trip and get hurt.”
“Fine,” he says with a sigh. “Can I go to school now?” he asks, switching the subject quick enough to give someone whiplash.
Peyton shoots daggers my way as she contemplates what to say, so I jump in, hoping making it right will earn me some points with the mother of my child.
Last night, when I spoke to my assistant about picking up clothes for them, she mentioned he’d also need some toys since they came with nothing. I’m planning to order shit, but she grabbed a bunch of stuff to hold him over until I can do that.
“Hey, Damien,” I say, stepping toward him. “You don’t know this, but while you were asleep, we took you on a plane.”
“Really?” he asks, tilting his head thoughtfully.
“Yep. We brought you here … on a vacation. Do you know what a vacation is?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “It’s where you go somewhere far away from home to have fun.”
“But school is fun.” He pouts. “I wanna go to school.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, and Peyton smirks at me with a silentfucking told youwritten across her features.
“I know,” I tell him. “But this place has fun stuff too. Like a pool.”
“A pool?” he asks, his gray eyes lighting up.
“Yep. We have a pool, and I have it on good authority that right through that hall, in the living room, is a bunch of cool pool toys and a bathing suit for you.”
“Yay!” he cheers as he runs in the direction I pointed.
“What did you say about him throwing a fit?” I murmur to Peyton with a smirk.
“Whatever,” she mutters. “Just fix this shit so we can leave.”
She goes to stomp away, but before she can, I extend my hand, halting her in place.
“I’m going to fix this shit,” I say, using her words. “But my son isn’t going anywhere. So, you should get used to living in this house because unless you’re okay with leaving him here with me, you’re not going anywhere either.”
