Page 75 of Kandi's Crush: A BWWM Sweet Billionaire Romance

“No! You didn’t. It’s inconclusive!” I yelled over.

“I told Beckham that Marie is going next. He said he wants no part of that Louisianan, Creole hoo-doo,” he teased.

“No, he didn’t. Chadwick, stop teasing him,” Marie-Therese called over.

“Hey. A little teasing won’t hurt him. Don’t forget what I went through.”

“Son, I love you. Now, go out there and grill the chicken before your wife eats us all,” said my mother.

Chadwick

One year later

“Sweets, help me out here,” I called over to my wife.

Dressed in yoga capri pants and a bra top with her hair in a high, curly ponytail, Kandace took a casual sip of her coffee and smiled at me.

The sounds of blocks falling to the floor and running echoed through the house. I could only imagine the chaotic scenes going on upstairs. There are many words used to describe our son—spoiled, wild, loud . . . We preferred spirited.

“Remember the deal? Three times a week, I get three hours of pure, unadulterated me time. I cook the food, and then for three glorious hours, I’m not a mommy.”

“Sweets . . . Come on,” I pleaded.

“Michael! Downstairs! Now!” A satisfied smirk pulled at her lips.

There was a moment of silence followed by a meek, “Okay.” With Titan, our Maltese puppy, in tow, we heard a soft patter of little feet running down the stairs.

“Boom. That’s how it’s done.” She took another sip of coffee and arched an eyebrow.

Four years ago, after a whirlwind romance, Kandace and I had run off to Las Vegas to get married. We’d had a few months of family drama along with a sooner-than-expected pregnancy. Now, there were four of us.

When Michael had turned a year and a half old, we found it necessary to bring in another bit of energy to calm the storm. Our baby girl, Lily Isabelle, was the exact opposite of her brother. She woke up in the morning smiling and cooing. My favorite times of the day were during early morning feedings. I hung out in the window seat and watched Kandace with Lily, love written all over her face as she took a deep breath of her scent.

Michael scurried onto the banquette as naked as the day he was born. I wiped excess cereal off Lily’s face.

“Michael, put on your pajama bottoms and have breakfast with us.” Michael didn’t move, so I switched into my stern voice. “Son.”

Michael scrambled off the banquette and slid on a pair of pajama bottoms. He climbed back on the cushioned seating. Titan took his place under the table. His tail wagged as he eagerly awaited any crumbs of falling food.

Licking the grape jelly off the toast, my son picked up a nearby foam bat and waved it over his head.

“Look! I have a BIG PEE-PEE!” he yelled excitedly.

I laughed. I knew I shouldn’t—laughter only encouraged Mikey. I sobered when I caught my wife’s disapproving expression.

“Yes, son. You do. Now, eat up.”

After Michael devoured the toast, he ate the eggs and finished with his least favorite—grits with butter and sugar. He danced in his seat and smiled at Kandace.

“Hey, Sweets. I like the food.”

This was yet another little thing?he’d picked up from me. Most time, he called Kandace, “Sweets.” She took it all in stride. She was one of the most confident and caring mothers I had ever seen.

“I’m glad you like it. I enjoyed making it for you.”

“You’re a good mommy. Can I have a cookie?” He smiled like a Cheshire cat.

“Eat your breakfast. You can have one for a snack after naptime.” He frowned when he heard the word nap.

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