Clearing my throat, I say, “Of course. But we need to establish some rules. No pranks.”
Kai nods solemnly, but I notice he doesn’t actually promise anything. Then he says, “Uncle Lane?” His voice is shaky now, less confident. “Where’s your wife?”
Right. Of course, he knows about Nina. The video went viral, and Desi has always been obsessed with social media. In fact, the only reason I know where she is half the time is when she updates her swimsuit influencer account. Not my cup of tea, but I guess it pays her bills—or her rotating cast of boyfriends does.
“It’s complicated,” I say, which seems to be my standard answer for everything these days.
I can practically hear Pierre’s voice in my ear telling me love is quite the opposite, but I can’t rightfully love Nina. I don’t know her. Then again, the sparks between us on thedancefloor suggested anything was possible. The way our gazes connected. That kiss.
Hold on. Who’s this hopeless romantic and where did Lane go?
I thought Xoe cut his beating heart out of his chest and threw it into the cold plunge bath.
“Desiree said now that you’re married, you can give me the family I deserve.” Kai’s voice cracks slightly on the last word, and suddenly I see past the potential for precocious pranks and smart-aleck comments. He’s just a kid. A child whose mother dumped him on my doorstep because he was too much to have around, which I translate to mean he interfered with her desire to indulge her selfish life.
The anger I’ve been holding in check flares white-hot. Desi is going to be hearing from me sooner rather than later, even if I have to get on an airplane.
But right now, Kai needs something different.
I stalk toward him, and he takes a half-step back, uncertainty flickering across his face. Then I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a warm hug.
He’s hesitant at first, arms stiff at his sides like he’s not sure what to do with affection or assurance. But then his small hands grip the back of my shirt, and he holds on like his life depends on it—like he’s been carrying a burden that’s too heavy for someone his size.
Because he has been—and he’s too young for any of this. For the briefest moments, he sinks into my arms as if he’s in a safe harbor. It’s right then that I vow to myself to be his anchor. I don’t know if it’s the idea of being married and the potential for family that solidifies this notion, or if Kai showing up is a distraction, so I don’t have to think about that at all, but this unexpected situation has me all in for this kid.
“Don’t go telling anyone I’m a hugger. It’ll ruin my reputation,” I mutter with a smile.
That gets a laugh, muffled against my shoulder, followed by a sniffle.
I hear myself say, “It’s going to be okay.” More than anything, I want that to be true.
Later that night,after we’ve ordered takeout and Kai is in the shower, I call Nina. She answers on the second ring. Her voice is warm and the tightness in my chest loosens just hearing it.
“There’s been a development,” I say, staring at the custody papers spread across my kitchen table.
“Oh?” I can’t tell if I caught her at a bad moment and she’s preoccupied, if she’s ready to hear me declare that I want no part of our accidental marriage, or that I’m all in. As it stands with Kai, I lean toward option three. Clearing my throat, I say, “I have a nephew.”
“That’s great.” Concern raises her voice an octave as if not sure why I’m sharing this info.
“As of tonight, apparently permanently.”
“Ohh. What happened?”
I explain about Desi, Kai showing up on my doorstep, and about being thrust into instant parenthood without a manual or a clue.
“He’s ten and he knows we’re married because of social media. He keeps asking where you are, and I don’t know how to explain that his married uncle and aunt live separately without making this whole situation sound even more confusing and absurd than it already is … and truth be told, the kid needs stability, not another unstable household.”
Nina is quiet for a long moment. “What are you thinking?”
“Honestly? That I’m in way over my head. I can’t handle a kid alone while playing hockey. I don’t know anything about ten-year-olds except that they apparently like pranks and ask a lot of uncomfortable questions.”
“Lane—”
I quickly interject, “I know this isn’t your problem. We agreed to think about things and I’m not trying to pressure you. But maybe we could think about it together?”
She’s quiet for a beat and then says, “I’m not sure how I could help, but I’ll try.”
“You and me?”
