She touches her chest. “I’m Belle.”
“Can I be the Beast, then?”
’Cause let’s face it. I’m a shit princess.
“Can I play?” Brax asks as he walks into the living room, carrying his baby blanket and letting it drag on the hardwood floors behind him.
Tate turns around and stares at him for a second. “Fine,” she says with a sigh. “You can be…” Her voice trails off.
I prepare myself for whatever crazy thing she’s about to say that’s probably going to make Brax cry. There’s a tiny demon in her that gets joy out of terrorizing her brother.
“You can be the teacup.”
His eyes light up. “Yay!”
The kid’s weird, but he probably would’ve been happy if she’d made him a rug because at least she didn’t tell him no and to get lost.
“You two have to do whatever I say.” She glances from Brax to me with a serious face. “I’m the princess.”
I’m already not liking the sound of this. Tate’s bossy to begin with, and given free rein, she’ll be a complete diva. “How about we just watch the movie instead?”
She twists her body and chews at her lip. “Only if I can make popcorn.”
“Butter?” I ask like an idiot.
She looks at me like I have three heads. “Daddy, who likes popcorn without butter?”
“Get your pillow and blankets, and Brax and I will make the popcorn,” I tell her because I’m not going to argue with the kid about butter.
She’d probably bathe in it if I let her.
She runs to her bedroom, leaving Brax and me alone. “You okay with watching the movie again, buddy?”
He nods slowly and lifts his blanket near his face. “It’s scary sometimes.”
“Come here,” I tell him and motion for him to come to me.
He runs across the floor, almost tripping on the shredded blanket he refuses to give up. I don’t have the heart to take it from him either. Not as long as it makes him happy, even if it’s about to disintegrate.
“I’ll protect you from the Beast, Brax. I love you,” I tell him as I hug him tightly.
My kids can never hear those words enough from me. I say them daily, hoping that when they’re older and I’m no longer here, they’ll always remember they were loved. I’d do anything for them. I’d give my life if it meant they would be happy and healthy.
“I love you too, Daddy.”
I ruffle his brown hair. “You want to help me make popcorn?”
“I want my own.”
“We’ll each have our own bowl.”
The last thing I want is them fighting over the popcorn. Tonight’s family night, and I could use a little peace and quiet. I don’t want Tate flipping her shit because Brax is hogging the food, or God forbid, I do.
An hour later, after only one yelling match about who’s going to sit on which side of the couch, the popcorn is gone and the kids are glued to the television. They’re curled into my side as I hold them against me and close my eyes.
25
Tilly
