Page 8 of Queen Rose

Nate

By some miracle, Becca and Brandon slept in, giving both Mom and me a short-lived reprieve this morning. By nine, though, they’d been bouncing on my bed, shouting about putting food in their tummies.

Once they’d gotten some cereal, they’d settled down and have since been watching cartoons in bed with Mom while she tries to catch some more sleep. Being up half the night has very much taken its toll on her energy levels today.

I’m in the garage putting some laundry into the washing machine when I hear a knock sound at the front door. And unfortunately, the pitter-patter of tiny feet follows immediately after. “Becca, Brandon, don’t open the do—”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Becca’s small voice says.

Who the hell is here? Dropping the rest of the darks into the washing machine, I hustle back inside.

Brandon stands behind his sister, who leans against the side of the door. “You’re one of the cheer girls.”

“Yes, I am.”

Aria’s voice carries to me and hits me right in the gut. I hated leaving her last night, especially knowing it’d been her first time. She’d let me be with her in a way no one ever has been before. And the significance of that, from this girl—who is a control freak by nature—isn’t lost on me. Not for a second.

It made me feel like I’d finally gotten somewhere with her. Like I saw a facet of her personality she shows no one else. It’d made me feel like the king to her queen. Like I’d finally found my way inside her heart and not just her body.

“We’re not allowed to let anyone in, sorry,” Becca declares, starting to shut the door.

“Becca, it’s okay. You can let Aria in.” I catch the door, finally putting my eyes on her. “Hey.”

“Hi, Aria! What you got there?” Brandon looks longingly at whatever Aria’s brought, which I find amusing because it could be a bag of rocks for all he knows.

But it’s not. I can smell it. I glance down at the bags in Aria’s hands. “Looks like maybe food.” I clear my throat, meeting her eyes. They’re sparkling today, which I’m relieved to see after the dull sadness I’d observed in the candy aisle of the grocery store.

“Did you bring your lunch with you?” Becca asks, her sweet little face pulling into a grin. “Because we haven’t had lunch yet. You can eat with us. Nate just has to make ours.”

Aria watches with a smile as Brandon begins to hop up and down. “Are you really here to eat lunch with us? Like a guest?”

“Even better. I brought lunch for all of you.” She pauses, meeting my eyes again. “Is that okay?”

My mind hiccups for a second. Would she have brought food for everyone if she was dating someone like Xander? Food for him and his sister? Actually, she probably would have. I run my hand through my hair, feeling like a jerk that I’d immediately questioned her motives. She’s being nice. It’s literally only been hours since we had sex for the first time. And here she is to make sure we’re okay—because I had to fuck and run so that I could take care of my family—like someone I’m seeing would do. It’s not like she hasn’t been here. She knows what our home is like, and she doesn’t give a damn. Get over yourself, Nate. Sometimes,I’m a real ass. I wave her inside with a nod. “Yeah. Sure. Come on in.”

Brandon is still jumping in place. “What did you get? What’s in the bags?”

She opens the bag to let them see. “Deli sandwiches and chips. Sound good?”

Brandon halts his motion, and puts his forefinger to his lip, as if he’s thinking hard. “What about a hot dog?”

Aria’s face registers surprise at first, but then she squats down beside him, the food bag still clutched in her hand. “Buddy, I’ll bring hot dogs next time, okay? Are they your favorite?”

He nods rather vigorously. “Yeah. I like ’em.”

Becca giggles. “Like a lot, a lot.”

I can’t help but laugh. “He really does. Sorry.”

Aria grins. “That’s cool. So, hot dogs next time, but this time we have the sandwiches. Deal?” Her eyes twinkle at him and both kids do little fist pumps, just like I taught them.

Considering she’s an only child, Aria’s surprisingly good with kids. I mean, I know she works well with the mini-cheer squad… but a five-year-old with hot dogs on the brain had the potential to be totally difficult to deal with. Yet, she’d managed the situation like it was nothing. It makes me like her even more than I already do.

I lead all three of them into the kitchen, and Aria sets the bags on the counter. “I wasn’t sure what everyone liked”—she aims a teasing wink at Brandon—“you know, besides hot dogs. So I got a bunch of different choices.”

“Sounds great.” I quickly unwrap a few sandwiches, finding a ham and cheese that I split between the kids’ plates. I give them each a small bag of Doritos, and then put part of a steak and cheese on a plate for my mom. Once I get the kids settled, I gesture toward the bedroom. “I’m just going to take this back to her. She may or may not be hungry.”

Aria nods, her brow furrowed, but doesn’t ask any questions.

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