“To scare you out of having more children?” I say. “Be my guest.”
Nathan comes up and tugs on my shirt, remnants of a chocolate donut smeared over his face. “Mommy! Mommy! Mee-maw has, she has Chloe’s dinosaur. She’s gonna keep it now.”
I glare over at the witch before me, because what normally would be a flight of fantasy is probably gospel.
The boys take off again, screaming and wild—good and sugared up for their morning with Emma at the preschool.
“It’s true.” Bree high-fives Chloe. “This girl needs some serious sleep, so I told her to do what I did. She can pick the kid up again in five years and she’ll be no worse for wear.”
My fists ball up over my hips. “I’m not buying it. My mother might be buying it, but I doubt Gage is into giving away the precious treasure the two of you created.”
A part of me is thrilled to hear that Mally can’t sleep. I had silently prayed she would be a difficult child. But, honestly, I didn’t think of the ramifications—i.e., her tiny face shoved up against my mother’s breast for the next half a decade.
Chloe scoffs. “She’s right. And believe me, Skyla, I hate it when you’re right. Gage is bent on being the perfect father to our daughter. He’s the one that gets up ten times a night to feed and diaper the tiny beast. He’s the one shopping for new clothes online and only the best developmental toys. He’s obsessed with her. He calls her his special princess. He’s thinking of getting her name tattooed across his chest. And that’s one tat that would stand the test of time.”
I glower at the witch.
Gage wasn’t so gung-ho to get up with the boys. In fact, he was darn right thankful I was nursing because he could just roll over and go back to sleep. And shopping for clothes and toys? Gage didn’t even care if the boysworeclothes. The more I hear of this new version of the man I once loved, the less I think of him.
Emily scoffs. “Come on, Skyla. You’re getting worked up for nothing. Your face is turning purple. That can’t be good for your own little princess.” She thumps my belly with her finger. “Chloe is just trying to crap in your hair this morning. She already tried to hire me for the nightshift.”
Bree nods. “But Emma took over. She spends every single night at the house so that Gage and Chloe can get some decent shut-eye.”
A swell of relief hits me. “Wow”—my eyes widen as I look to Chloe—“you give her away at nightandduring the day. You really are a stellar parent, Chloe.” I head over to Logan and steal a sip of his coffee. A hard moan comes from me. “Why does the leaded version taste so much better?”
“Because it’s far away from Chloe.” He lands a heated kiss to the top of my head.
Tad barrels into the family room like a loon, waving his hands wildly. “Gather ’round, folks! It’s time!” he shouts at the top of his lungs and the baby sitting over Mom’s chest bucks before belting out a cry like I have never heard from an infant before.
I lean into Logan and whisper, “She doesn’t sound human.”
“Newsflash, she’s not.”
And I suppose technically neither are we. At least not fully.
We share a little laugh as Tad snatches up the remote and kills the video game to a round of boos and jeers. Ethan takes off his shoe and pegs Tad in the back of the head, and it’s as if a stink bomb goes off.
“What are we doing?” I ask Logan as my mother hobbles this way with her shirt falling open, that adorable dark head of hair taunting me as baby Mally struggles to stay latched onto what looks like my mother’s bare breast.
Mom squeals, “Oh, Skyla. I can just feel it’s going to happen again. And to think in only two days it’s Halloween. I still have so much to plan for Professor Dudley’s party. I’ll admit, I’ve been stuck in a slump. But with this new baby, and now this, I’ll have enough motivation to bolster me straight through the holidays. Oh, and before I forget, Demetri has already asked me to plan the boys’ birthday at his estate. He said he’ll work with you on dates, but he insists on having a party for them. And if you say no, he’ll just do it on one of the days that Gage has them.” She offers an apologetic shrug.
I shoot Logan a look. “It’s fine,” I say, rubbing my enormous belly and my sweet little angel rewards me with a kick.
In all honesty, this tiny babe nestled in my womb is a saving grace. I know for a fact I will never have to share this peanut with Chloe—and, furthermore, Logan will never hold her hostage so he can enjoy his days in peace without me. How I hate divorce, how I hate the jagged shredding of my family. This is no clean cut. Far from it. This is flesh that had melted onto flesh—his over mine, bone fused to bone that needed to be torn apart by demonically strong hands. I can see why God Himself doesn’t recommend it.
“We’ll do it on Nathan’s birthday,” I say. It’s my birthday. Not quite the way I envisioned spending it, but I figure the boys and I can make an appearance and leave early. I will be my own excuse to leave. Of course the boys will be exhausted. They’ll be the acceptable excuse.
“Perfect.” She rocks the squirming babe at her bosom. “And later that week, we’ll have a perfectly normal Thanksgiving meal right here. I’ve already invited everyone—I’ve even invited the Olivers.” She gives Logan a hearty wink. “I’m sorry, Skyla, but the worst thing you can ever do is start having separate holidays with the boys. I’m begging you to bite the bullet right now, swallow your pride and your pain. You’ll thank me every Christmas morning for the next eighteen years.” She glances to the ceiling. “Or sixteen, but, believe me, that kind of gift will last forever.”
She’s right and I know it. And sadly, as blissful as it will be waking up with my boys on holidays knowing that they’ll never have to leave my side, the thought of spending the next two decades and beyond with Chloe on those special days makes it feel like a prison sentence.
I take a moment to glower at her properly, and the witch has the audacity to offer me a wink.
Tad waves his arms as if he were flagging down a 747. “Here it is! It’s on. Y’all shut up.”
I don’t contest Tad’s sudden country-fried accent. In truth, I’ve been far too busy these past few months to contest just about anything that man has concocted. The purchasing of a thoroughbred racehorse in Los Angeles? I didn’t even blink. And sadly, the magnificent beast ended up slipping on a wet track and needing to be put down less than three days after the purchase. Poor thing had succumbed to the Landon curse far sooner than need be.
The thirteen sports cars Tad has purchased? I didn’t say a word. Granted, he bought five a piece for his sons, one for Melissa, and two for himself. Funny how Mom or Mia didn’t get anything out of the outlandish automobile deal. I certainly don’t care about myself. I’m happy with the minivan, and the fact that now Logan and I are together, I truly have my Mustang back.
