“What happened to Harold Sr.?”
I leaned forward to wrap my hands around the vines of the pothos. “You’ll upset him.”
Ghost pressed a hand to his chest. “My bad. Was it planticide? Bad soil?” He made a sound. “It’s this apartment, isn’t it? Harsh conditions.”
He came across the room to lift me and set me aside to turn his attention to the plant. “Don’t worry, Harold Jr., I’m your daddy now.”
I blinked. “What about me?”
“You’re their mother.”
I sniffed. “You didn’t even acknowledge Hercules and Spike.”
“Don’t embarrass me in front of my sons,” he chided and turned back to the three pots. “Hercules, you take after me. Look at those guns.”
I gaped.
Hiro glanced around. “Why are you standing there? Go pack.”
I shuffled from foot to foot. “You really want me to move in with you.”
“I want you to come home, where you belong.”
And this was why I loved him. Why his job didn’t matter to me at all.
He was my home.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Ghost
Standing in the middle of my apartment, a husband and father of three now, I came to a realization.
This place wasn’t good enough.
“This place is huge!” Rett exclaimed as he slowly turned in a circle in the center of my loft, that purple backpack strapped to his back. I had to admit it looked even cuter than I imagined.
Know what wasn’t cute?
When I told him to pack his stuff and he came out with thatonepurple backpack and a plastic bag they give you at the bodegas around here. And it had a hole in it. The second he put his laptop in it, the hole tripled in size and the computer nearly fell onto his foot.
It was so ridiculous that I looked around to see if I was being punked. Alas, no cameras were filming, so this apparently wasn’t a prank show but good ol’ reality.
After picking up his laptop, he’d had the absolute audacity to look at me and ask, “Do you haveroom for my desk?”
“You don’t have a desk,” I’d pointed out.
“It’s right there!” he’d said, pointing at some decrepit heap of bent metal.
“That’s a desk?” I was skeptical. “It has three legs.”
“It’s a little wobbly. I can duct tape it.”
Was he for real? “That thing clearly has the structural integrity of a wet cracker!”
He gasped. “I use it for work.”
