Page 49 of His Wild Storm
Wilde frowns before his shoulders drop slightly. He nods and sounds a little despondent,” Yeah, I know you’re right. I was just so excited.”
“Bud,” I crow, “you have no idea how excited I am. I haven’t been to the museum in over a year and haven’t seen the special exhibits there right now. I can’t wait to see my favorites there along with new pieces.”
He nods eagerly, his little hands reaching for me in a way that tells me exactly what he wants. I open my arms for him, not surprised when he closes the distance and hugs me tightly. Even though I’m always careful to give him the chance to initiate any affection, I live for this kid’s hugs.
Once he lets go, I do too and stand up to shuffle us into the house. Haven looks a little haggard, like she’s had to spend a while chasing after him already this morning. Being tried does nothing to make her any less stunning. She’s looking at her son with eyes filled with love.
The fact that she didn’t step in and allowed me to remind him about the importance of the rules here might seem small to a lot of people, but I know how monumental it is.
When I walk up to Haven I want to kiss her, desperately. She’s not ready for that to happen in front of Wilde yet. I settle for kissing her forehead. And if I take a deep breath of her berries and sunshine scent when I’m close, no one else needs to know.
Because I definitely do.
“You good?” I keep the question quiet and just between us.
“Yeah,” she breathes out, “just nervous.”
“You have nothing to be nervous about. Everyone is so excited to meet you and Wilde. Just be yourself and everything will be just as it is meant to be,” I reassure her.
Her body relaxes against me for a moment, but then it’s like she remembers where she is and straightens up. She flicks her gaze over to Wilde who is watching us closely. He doesn’t look upset, mad or surprised. Honestly, he looks more relieved than anything else.
But I could be wrong about that.
Knowing Haven is extra cautious when around Wilde, I change the subject with immense grace, “Did you two have breakfast?”
One side of Haven’s mouth twitches because it was about as graceful as an elephant in a tutu. Wilde smiles and leans closer before taunting me, “We had pancakes. Did you have pancakes?”
“Oh man,” I declare, a whine in my voice, “I missed out on pancakes?” Wilde nods and giggles. “Let me guess,” I pout, “you didn’t save any for me either.”
“Cold pancakes aren’t worth being saved, Knox. You know that,” he deadpans without a hint of remorse for eating all the pancakes.
“It’s a good thing I’m a grown man and could make myself pancakes anytime I want,” I grouse.
Wilde gasps, his eyes wide and his mouth open slightly. “You could make yourself pancakes anytime you want? Like you could make pancakes for dinner? You could have them three times a day?” His last question comes out close to a shriek which has me cracking up while I nod.
I’m not the only one, Laura and Haven are both chuckling softly.
Wilde then turns toward his mom with his eyes narrowed in accusation. “Why do we have to eat anything other than pancakes?”
Haven sighs and shoots me a look filled with annoyance. The only thing I can do is hold up my hands because he asked me a question and I’ll always be honest with him.
“Just because you can have pancakes three times a day,” Haven explains, “doesn’t mean you should. You’d be missing out on things your body needs to function if you were on an all-pancake diet.”
“What about pancakes for meals and then nuts for snacks? You always tell me how good nuts are for me and how many nutrients they contain,” Wilde points out, his face a picture of pure innocence.
“Maybe for your next birthday,” Haven negotiates, “we can talk about having a pancake only day.”
Wilde’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You’ve got a deal, Mommy,” he exclaims and then sticks his hand out for a shake.
It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing as Haven slides her hand into his and he shakes it like they’ve just closed a multi-billion-dollar deal and not a pancake for three meals day of excess and syrup.
I clap my hands together before pointing at Wilde. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” he shouts and jumps up with his fist in the air.
I look toward my woman, wishing I could kiss her right here and now, but hold myself back. “How about you, little storm?”
Even though Wilde giggles softly, I don’t look away from Haven. On the surface, it may seem as if I’m only asking about her being ready to go to the museum. But my words are much deeper than that.
