Page 73 of Off Limits Daddies
"Aw, Mom!" Rory protests. "Grandpa was just telling us about when he was a firefighter."
"It's a school night." I keep my voice gentle but firm. "You can visit again soon."
Robert's eyes meet mine, and I see questions there. So many questions. About the twins, about why I left, about the tension he must sense crackling through his house tonight. But he doesn't voice them. Not yet.
"Your mother's right." He ruffles Rory's hair with a tenderness that makes my eyes sting. "But you boys come back soon, you hear? I want to hear all about school and what you're learning."
"We will, Grandpa!" they chorus together.
The twins hug him carefully, mindful of his frailty, then race to get their jackets. I lean down and kiss my father's cheek.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For tonight. For them."
His hand catches mine briefly. "We'll talk soon, Mila. About everything."
The promise and the threat hang in the air as I straighten. Linda walks us to the door, hugging the twins and then me.
"Drive safe," she murmurs against my hair. "And Mia? Be careful."
I'm not sure if she means the drive home or the situation with Jack and Marcus, but I nod anyway.
True to their word, both men follow us outside. Jack reaches my car first, opening the back door so the twins can climb in. Marcus hovers on my other side, his presence oppressive.
"Buckle up, guys," I tell the boys, then turn to face the two men flanking me like bodyguards. Or prison guards. "Thank you both for coming tonight."
"We need to finish our conversation," Jack says quietly, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. "Soon."
"I'll call you tomorrow," Marcus interrupts, his hand finding my elbow. "We should talk about our future. About what's best for the boys."
Jack's expression darkens. "I don't think that's any of your concern."
"I helped raise those boys for three years." Marcus's grip on my elbow tightens. "That makes it very much my concern."
"You're not their father." Jack's voice carries an edge sharp enough to cut.
"Neither are you," Marcus shoots back.
The words hang between them like a challenge. I yank my arm free from Marcus and step back.
"Stop it. Both of you." My voice shakes with anger and exhaustion. "I don't need either of you fighting over me like I'm some prize to be won. I'm going home. Alone."
I slide into the driver's seat and start the engine before either man can respond. Through the rearview mirror, I watch them standing in my parents' driveway, staring each other down like two wolves competing for territory.
"Mom?" Corey's voice is small from the backseat. "Why were they fighting?"
"They weren't fighting, baby. Just talking."
"It looked like fighting," Rory observes. He's always been the more perceptive twin. "Are they mad at you?"
"No, sweetheart. Everything's fine."
Another lie to add to the mountain I've built over the past ten years.
The drive home passes in a blur. The twins chatter about their grandfather, the stories he told, and how cool it was that he used to fight fires. I make appropriate responses while my mind races through everything that happened tonight.
Jack knows. Or at least he suspects. The way he looked at the twins, the recognition in his eyes when he saw their hazel irises with those distinctive gold flecks. It's only a matter of time before he demands a paternity test or confronts me directly.
And Marcus. God, Marcus with his possessive touches and his claims on my sons. The threat implicit in his words about what's "best for the boys." He's positioning himself as their father figure, the stable presence they need.
