“If Aunt Shae loses,” Hudson asks, “will we still be able to put up the Christmas trees?”
Before I can even process that question, Kev leans in, his placid smile in place.
Prophet’s smile. “Aunt Shae won’t lose, honey. Even if she did,yes, we’d still be able to put up the trees.”
“Okay.”
My boy’s back. Maybe not all the way, but just like Shae, the fire’s still there, it just needs some careful stoking and tending to become a bonfire again.
Shae makes it out in time to say goodbye to the kids as Yasmine gets them moving downstairs to the awaiting car. She spends the day in school with them, usually in Hudson’s class as ahelper, but sometimes in Myla and Ivy’s class.
Once we’re alone again, Prophet clears his throat and crooks a finger at Shae.
She goes to him and he pulls her in for a long, strong hug. “That’s my girl,” he softly says. “Ready to win an election?”
“Yes, Sir.” She smiles up at him, and I suppose a lesser man would be jealous about that smile, but I’m not.
They’re both mine.
And I love them.
“Then let’s get our asses to work,” he tells her, spinning her around and delivering a stinging slap to her ass that makes me cackle.
Before she can respond, Leo appears. “Good morning, President Samuels.” From the smirk he wears, I know he heard at least thesmack.
We’re on the clock.
“Go get them, baby,” I tell her, and send them off to work.
I go pour myself another cup of coffee and hopeI’m strong enough to keep them pulled together.
