“Hi, Uncle,” Kael says, drawing his attention downward.
“Hang on, buddy. Just a second.”
“Sorry, Uncle, I’ll give you back the coin you gave me for the secret,” my son promises.
Drako laughs, ignoring my fury as if he has no fear, scooping Kael into his arms. He lifts him and spins, pulling a shrill laugh from the boy.
“Nero!” he shouts toward the stairs. I don’t hear the reply, but he seems to. “Remember that word with an F you banned me from saying around Kael?” Again, I can’t hear the response from upstairs. “Yeah—well, you're totally f-ed, man. Kael’s here.”
“What do you mean? Did he come alone?” Nero appears at the top of the stairs with a towel around his waist, searching for Kael with concern. He smiles when he sees him in Drako’s arms—then his expression shifts instantly when Drako moves and reveals me.
Nero grips the towel tightly and has the decency to look more alarmed than Drako about being caught. He says nothing.
For a few seconds—maybe more, I can’t tell why—I track the path of an indecent drop of water sliding from the tip of his hair, down his neck, across his muscular chest. The drop ends. I don’t.
“Feel free to stop drooling on my doorstep, Nina. Come drool inside. It's free of charge,” Drako says.
“Very funny, Drako,” I mutter.
“Who’s your favorite uncle, kid?”
“Atlas!” Kael answers decisively.
“You’ll never be rich like that, kid.”
I step inside, furious.
“Stop bribing my son!” I snap at Drako. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I turn to Nero, still clutching the towel as if it could shield him from my judgment.
“I can explain.”
“You’d better.”
“Are you mad at the uncles, Mom?” Kael asks.
“I am, sweetheart.”
Kael turns to the idiots in the living room and announces:
“Yeah, I think today I’ll have to teach everyone how to be grounded. You’ll have to do it really nicely, right, Mom? So you can come to my birthday.”
Kael looks at me nervously, and I hurry to lift him out of Drako’s arms.
“They can still come, right, Mom? After the punishment?”
“Of course they can, sweetheart.”
“You going to poison the food?” Drako mutters, trying to be funny.
“You bet,” I promise, walking out.
***
“Hi,” Nero says, now fully dressed, when I open the door again. I cross my arms and wait—but no words follow.
“Explain yourself.”
“You said I couldn’t rent the house next door, but you didn’t say Atlas, Apollo, or Drako couldn’t.”
