We live on a quiet street, mainly families, and the house is too big for the two of us but perfect for when the twins arrive. We didn’t want something massive, anyway, and we couldn’t live in Hunter’s old house.
I used the money Hunter left me and turned his home into a foster home. Z checks on it for me, and I do everything I can from a distance to ensure that every kid is looked after and has everything they need. I didn’t want the money for myself, so it seemed like the next best thing.
As I wait on the couch, I open mail, not that we get much. One is a Christmas card from Guy, which is pointless given that since Ella got pregnant, she FaceTimes him every day. Another is from Silence, and X, Y and Z.
The last one is simply marked “M.”
Bambi and Flynn,
I hope the little Bambis are well.
I don’t miss either of you.
Monty survived the attack, and soon after, she disappeared. She keeps in touch like this, so we know she’s alive, but the agency—which Z and his brothers took over—haven’t heard from her since last year. She doesn’t take on any jobs, but that doesn’t exactly mean she isn’t killing anyone.
“Shit!” Ella yelps from the kitchen.
I stand up. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing! Don’t come in!” Ella yells back.
Sighing, I return to my seat and hope she doesn’t burn our house down on Christmas Eve.
When Ella appears in the doorway carrying two plates, I grin.
“You made me s’mores.”
She wiggles, clearly pleased with herself, and climbs onto the sofa before handing me my plate.
“Gibson … there’s no marshmallows.”
She pouts. “I ate them all today.”
“Wow.”
“I’m pregnant; I’m allowed.”
We eat, we watch a movie, and as we get into bed, I start reading. Ella shifts around, trying to get comfortable.
She grunts, then glares at me like it’s my fault she can’t sleep. “What are you reading?”
“It’s a book about being a dad when you’ve had a less than perfect upbringing,” I mumble, trying to concentrate. “Just making sure I don’t mess up our kids.”
It’s my biggest fear. I know no one knows how to be a parent first time around, but I should have some confidence, right? At the moment, I have zero.
“Gable,” she says, rubbing her belly. “You’re going to be a great dad.”
“Yes, I will, because I’m reading this.”
She laughs and then grunts, kicking the covers off. “I give up sleeping. It’s for the weak.” Groaning, she gets out of bed. “I’m going to pee.”
“That’s seven times tonight.”
“One more and I win the sweepstakes!” She cheers and I laugh as she waddles out of the room.
Life is really fucking strange now.
Wonderful strange, but still strange.
