“Yes. Uncle Theo is a constant ambush.” She slings the large black bag over her shoulder and holds out a hand to him. “Want to go have dinner and make new friends?”
“No.”
“Begonia and Marshmallow will be there.”
“Aun Beebee be dare?”
“Nope, Aunt Sabrina won’t be there tonight.”
“Aun Waney?”
“No, sweetie. Just you, me, Jonas, Begonia, Hayes, Marshmallow, and a new friend.”
“Zen-Zen?”
“No Zen-Zen either. But we’ll still have fun.”
“We might have different definitions offun,” I murmur to Emma.
Real talk though—I’m turned on as hell at how she’s tackling this.
And at the way she’s pursing her lips in amusement.
On a normal day, I’d smile right back.
Seeing Emma confident? Ready to tackle whatever my family throws at her? Knowing my mother will likely be looking for an opportunity to take a clip of Bash’s hair for a DNA sample, and knowing Emma knows it too?
I like it.
But not as much as I would if we were tackling something less precarious.
Like rock-climbing without harnesses.
“Dodo Ono?” Bash asks.
Emma shakes her head. “Yolko Ono is staying home tonight. What’s going on here? Why don’t you want to see Marshmallow and Begonia?”
He grins at her.
And while he looks just like me ninety-nine percent of the time, that grin is one hundred percent channeling his Uncle Theo.
If my family had been more like Ryan Reynolds’s family and less like, well, theRazzle Dazzlefamily, I could’ve had some fun with Theo back in the day too.
Never really regretted not being more adventurous his way, but I’m starting to wonder what parts of life I’ve missed.
Emma’s smiling but shaking her head at him. “C’mon, Bashy-boo. Mama’s hungry. And if Mama doesn’t eat—”
“Mamawoar!” Bash finished. “Wike awion.”
“Exactly,” Emma agrees. “Mama gets so hangry she turns into a lion.”
“Mon, Dona.” Bash abandons the cars on the rug and runs to me, grabbing my hand. “No mama wion. Mama go eat.Mon.”
“Can’t have Mama turning into a lion,” I agree.
His chubby little fingers wrap around my thumb while he tugs on my hand, insisting Ic’mon, and I silently vow—again—to do everything in my power to protect this little boy with my life.
He pulls me to the garage door, where Hayes’s security detail has parked their van and are ready with Bash’s car seat installed and waiting. Emma didn’t question why we couldn’t drive ourselves. Instead, she met my eyes and silently telegraphedokay, I get it, this is your life, so this is what we’ll do.
