He’s nine months old and is my little shadow, though he isn’t really little anymore. He’s picked up training well, and he’s obedient, if a little dozy at times. He loves the car, which is lucky, because we’re making a twelve-hour trip to a cabin in Canada to meet with Ella, Gable, and the kids.
It feels like forever since I’ve seen them, so as the navigation chirps up that we’re closing in on our destination, I pick up speed.
The sign for the cabin comes into view, and I pass through the open gate. The driveway is long, surrounded by trees, the road cast in shadows, and Fox shifts excitedly, likely looking for squirrels. When I reach the end of the dusty stone path, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
I kill the engine and climb out, and Fox clambers over to the driver’s side to follow. The lakeside cabin is enormous. Far too big for just the five of us, but stunning. The structure is mismatched brick with a dark, sloping roof. I approach a side entrance with a low fence that leads to the lake and a floating patio, comfortable seats set up, and lamps glowing in time for nightfall. The front of the house faces the water, and it’s a large, triangle front made entirely of glass, the second story aglow with lights. The patio doors that lead to a kitchen are open to the elements, and the sound of tiny feet approach.
“Papa!” Asha darts toward me and I grin, scooping her into my arms. I FaceTime Ella a few times a week, but I was still afraid the kids might not recognize me. The last time I held Asha she was one, but now she’s almost three. I bury my face in her long, dark hair. She smells like bubblegum and feels like home.
There’s another small shout, and I shift Asha so she’s on my hip, so I can pick up Gray, too. More dark hair, just like Gable’s, but they both have Ella’s blue eyes.
“You’re both getting too big,” I say, feigning weakness as I bounce them up and down, eliciting giggles.
“Yes, they are.”
My gaze strays to my daughter. My baby girl.
She looks the same as she always has. Long dark hair in a ponytail, smile wide whenever she sees me, but there’s an air about her now that’s different. A kind of calm. A maturity that makes me so damn proud of her.
“Hey, Daddio,” she says and approaches to kiss my cheek. “How was the drive?”
“Fine, it was a little?—”
“Oh no, the cops are here,” a dry, deep voice says, just as Gable appears in the patio doorway. He looks the same, too.Messy black hair and sharp, brown eyes that always set me on edge. He’s in dark jeans and a T-shirt, as always, except a kitchen towel is over his shoulder and I think he has glitter smudged on his cheek.
“Hi, Gable,” I say stiffly.
He gives me a curt nod. “Where’s Fox?”
A splash answers that. We turn and watch Fox paddling about in the lake, biting at the water. Motor is at the edge, barking excitedly, tail wagging at full speed.
Asha immediately wriggles in my grip. “Fox!”
“Are they safe?” I ask, nodding at the water.
Gable points at the thick, glass fencing that runs around the entirety of the patio. Fox and Motor must have leapt over it, but there’s no way the twins could even reach the top of it, so I place both kids down and they toddle over to watch the dogs play.
Ella watches, chewing her lip, and Gable puts his arm around her, kissing her temple. “They’re okay.”
She looks unconvinced. “We need to remember to lock the doors, even at night. You know what Asha is like.”
I watch them both. “What about Asha?”
Ella sighs, her brows pinched together. “She’s been sleepwalking. It started a few months ago.”
God, that brings back memories. “You did, too.”
Ella’s head whips in my direction. “I did?”
“After your mom passed, yeah. It went on for a year or so, then you just stopped.”
At that, Ella relaxes. “So it could just stop?” I nod and she smiles, even though it’s small. “That’s good.” She goes to watch Fox with the kids, and Gable and I stand almost shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the lake, too.
He folds his arms. “I’ve been trying to reassure herabout that since it started. You show up and do it in five minutes.”
“It’s a dad thing,” I say. He makes a sound that has me smirking. “You cooking?”
“Yep. You hungry?”
