He did it for me.
I keep reading Xander’s text.
Xander: I respect you too much to lie. But Clay loves you, Fawn. Do you think any man would dare challenge his authority in the District?
Fawn: No.
Xander: You’re part of that now, girlie. We all love you. My old man, Bronson, Max, well… Max doesn’t hate you, and that’s basically love coming from him. LOL.
Fawn: K.
Xander: Damn, Fawn. I wish I could give you a cuddle right now. I get it. This is a big deal. First time meeting the heads of the Family.
I sink further into the carpet.
Fawn: Am I the other woman, Xander?
Xander: You’re the only woman, Fawn.
Setting my phone on my stomach, a heavy sigh rushes from my lungs. Ash and Luca's babbling soars around me, tugging my lips into an involuntary smile.
The only woman.
“The red fairy is missing a wing,”HJ says, handing me the one-winged fairy before returning to his corner.
“Yeah.” I pout. “I know.”
I'm playing with my babies and Luna on the plush carpet, arranging moss-green felt pieces and miniature ceramic mushrooms, wondering if fairy gardens are appropriate play for Butcher boys, when Clay appears from the wood-panelled office with Bronson trailing him.
I don't know when he arrived, but the mansion hastwenty-five thousandrooms and exits, and probably a magic portal hidden behind some bookcase, so it could have been at any time.
Two Butcher men fill the kids’ lounge—one my fiancé, one my soon-to-be brother-in-law—and the sight of them both steals my breath like it always does. Both tall, stupidly tall, with girth in all the right places and muscles that create mountains and valleys beneath their custom-fitted shirts.
"There she is," Bronson announces, his voice deep and full of mischief. "Ready for our big adventure, Sister Fawn?"
Adventure?
Bronson scoops up Ash and then Luca with his massive hands. "Give me the babies!" he yells, a theatrical sound that makes them both giggle. He carries them, one squirming bundle in each tattooed arm, over to the cream leather sofa. Plonking down on the firm upholstery, he positions one Butcher baby on each knee and bounces them. “Look at the happy chappies!”
"No baby talk, Bron," Clay orders, but it’s too late…
It’s started.
"Oh, what, no baby talk?” he says to the twins. “But babytalk is the bestie westie. Look at the happy little chappies with such a sappy pappy." He winks at me.
Clay sighs roughly. “Madonna mia.”
“Not a happy pappy,” Bronson goes on, and Luca and Ash both gurgle at him and beam from ear to ear. “I’m taking your mama, Fawny-warny out for walkies.”
“Don’t call her that,” Clay warns.
Bronson just grins. “Such a sappy pappy.”
I force a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes, my fingers fidgeting with the ends of my long hair.
Clay notices immediately, his blue gaze piercing through me with brazen demand. "Little deer?"
"What adventure, Sir?” I ask while my sons' chubby legs kick against Bronson's massive thighs, their tiny, socked feet barely reaching his knees.
