Page 156 of Please Open Me
“Hey, you okay?” Cameron nudged my shoulder. “You’re breathing a little funny.”
I nodded and tore my eyes away from her. “Is breakfast done? She was hungry.”
Cameron studied me for a second too long, like he knew exactly where my head had gone, but he let it slide. “Yeah. Plates are set.”
I thanked him before running off to the dining room and calling everyone to the table, you know, so I could at least pretend I made breakfast.
The twins came first, their little feet slapping against the ground as if the two of them alone were a herd of overcaffeinated wild animals. Jasper tripped over Juniper, Juniper screamed that he hurt her and that she wanted to sit next to Papa–Cameron–and I did what most dads did best–tuned them out.
That was the only way to keep your sanity when small children were involved.
Mason followed behind much slower, Rosie balanced on her hip. While the kids were all impeccably dressed, hair brushed, Rosie even had an obnoxiously large bow, Mason’s hair was still a wet, wild mess, and she wore sweatpants and a shirt stained with milk. She looked soft, tired, so human in a way that made my throat ache. She should’ve been sitting already, eating, resting. But no, she was gathering silverware and asking the kids what they wanted to drink.
And I was so limited on what I could say without making her uncomfortable. Without letting her know I one hundred percent knew her secret.
So, instead, I cleared my throat and forced her into a chair. She landed on the padded seat with a little huff, and I shot her a warning look before turning to the kids.
I cleared my throat before speaking. “Water or Juice,Mi tesoros?”
My treasures. It’s what Lucian called the kids, and while I wouldalwaysbe their uncle Bash, I was tired of being walled off. These were children whom, within the last year, I’d spent more time raising than their father.
Jasper responded instantly, telling me he wanted apple juice, but Juniper was slower. She crossed her arms and wiggled her shoulders like the little brat she was.
But, just as I cleared my throat to try to ask again, the other two adults wandered in.
Lucian looked like hell, as he had for the last few weeks. Grey hoodie, pale skin, tired eyes, but he did look a bit better with his haircut.
Sophia was as put together as ever, but I did my best to ignore her. Every time we were alone, she’d ask who I killed, frame this whole thing like it was a game or hot gossip. Like killing someone wasn’t life-altering trauma.
And, while we’d been on a path that could have ended with her being mygirlfriend,the lack of regard both for my feelings and for human life turned me off.
Plus, I wasn’t eager to knowingly put my dick in crazy.
Sophia caught me looking and smirked, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Mason, who was trying to get Rosie to wipe her nose with a napkin.
Lucian, of course, hadn’t let up even though Mason wanted nothing to do with him. He’d claimed the chair beside Mason, close enough that his sleeve brushed hers every time he moved.
“Mi Vida,” he murmured, plucking the napkin right out of her hand like she was incompetent and dabbing Rosie’s nose himself. “We’re a team, let me help.”
Mason stiffened, but she didn’t argue. Her lips pressed together in that way she did when she was too worn down to fight.
And that was my cue to sit the fuck down. I took the chair opposite her and pulled it closer; the legs squealed against the wooden floor.
Rosie clapped her hands, excitedly bouncing in her mother's lap as if that’d been a game.
And that’s when I realized I didn’t have a high chair here for her.
“Here, princess, let me hold her,” I said evenly, extending my arms. “You need to eat.”
Mason glanced down at Rosie, then back at me. For a moment, she looked torn, as if she wasn’t sure that giving me the baby was a good idea. But Rosie made the decision for her, squealing again and reaching toward me like she’d just been waiting for the invitation.
I smiled as my daughter pulled herself to me, and Mason mumbled something about her being a traitor before reaching for the bowl of breakfast potatoes in the center of the table.
At first, she loaded her plate up, then she seemed to realize that she usually didn’t eat that much, or maybe she thought she shouldn’t have that much. Either way, she put about half of them back.
Again, I was trapped under the weight of everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Lucian, of course, had no such restraint. He lightly rested his hand on her stomach and kissed her cheek before mumbling something into her ear.
