Worth the Wait(24)
Brett held his fist up, and like it was the most natural thing in the world, Cameron bumped it with his own. It was so damn cute to see that I totally let the whole cookie thing slide.
Brett stuck around for a few more minutes before finally telling the kids to get some rest and he’d see them in the morning. I walked him to the door and stepped out into the breezeway with him, leaving it opened a crack so I could hear just in case one of the kids needed me.
“You didn’t have to bring them presents, but thank you. It was sweet and they loved them.”
“No problem.” His deep, gravelly voice dropped low as he stepped in close to me. “Like I said, I really like your kids. Tomorrow will be fine, you’ll see.”
“I can’t begin to pay you back for this—”
He pressed his finger to my lips to stop me.
“Nothing to pay back, beauty. I’m happy to help. Now, go get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”
The gentle press of his lips to my forehead caused me to sigh and lean into him. But before I could do anything I’d later regret, Brett pulled away, shooting me a wink and that beautiful smile of his before turning and walking away.
There was the teeniest, tiniest, just slightest possibility that I might not have known just what I was getting myself into with my offer to babysit for Kenzie. When I arrived at her apartment and watched her flitting around like an anxious hummingbird, quickly rattling off a long-ass list of rules and emergency contacts, and the phone number for poison control, I’d ignorantly thought to myself yeah, I got this as I took in the two angelic creatures quietly sitting at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast.
I’d pushed Kenzie out the door with a “You have nothing to worry about,” feeling overly confident that the twins were always so polite and serene.
Yeah, not so fucking much.
Things had started out so perfectly. We’d watched some whacked-out movie about talking Legos or some such shit—side note, if I had to hear that yellow fucker singing about how everything is awesome one more damn time, I was gonna lose my shit. The kids were feeling better by lunch time so I decided to stray from their premade meal of bland and tasteless that Kenzie left in the fridge and ordered a pizza. Watching their hazel eyes, so much like their mom’s, light up like I’d just told them I was Santa was probably one of the best feelings I’d ever had. Of course, the whole pizza thing went down after I’d had a very long, very thorough talk with them about the importance of the buddy code—which was the term I’d come up with for keeping a secret because I was brilliant like that. Buddy code specifically stated that Cameron and Callie could each get one slice of pizza for lunch if they promised it would stay between us. What Kenzie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and it was just pizza after all. No red-blooded American kid could truly thrive without pizza. That was in a manual somewhere for sure.
About thirty minutes after lunch, Cameron upchucked like he was dispelling every ounce of fluid from his body. Seriously, I’d never in my life seen anything like it. And if I was being honest, I gave that poison control number some serious thought. Luckily, after that nightmare, he seemed to be all right. Once the puke show was over, it was naptime. And it couldn’t have come sooner because I was wiped. I could only host so many tea parties—Callie’s idea—or be an evil ninja—Cameron’s idea…okay, my idea—and deal with a truckload of puke without needing a breather.
I tucked the kids into their tiny beds and made my way back into the living room, remote in hand, totally prepared to watch something that wouldn’t make my balls shrivel up into my stomach. Princess Elsa was hot and all, but I couldn’t help but want to strangle the icy wench after the eleventy-billionth “Let it go”. Woman, we get it!
Flipping through the channels, there wasn’t really anything on that caught my attention. Not one who handles boredom all that well, I started wandering around the tiny apartment, straightening things up as I went. I tried to put the toys back into the plastic bins that lined one of the living room walls, but no manner of stacking would keep the overflow of stuffed animals and action figures from toppling back onto the floor. The twins really needed some place to stash their loot; those bins just weren’t cutting it.
Giving up on that project, I wandered aimlessly, inspecting everything closely, really trying to get a feel for Kenzie. The apartment was homey, but all of the furniture appeared to be second-hand. The kitchen table was scuffed and scratched on more of the surface than not. The mismatched chairs had wobbly legs. The couch, while comfortable, had definitely seen better days; the fabric was so worn and threadbare in some spots, it was just one plop away from tearing open. The one thing that stood out the most as I walked the space was that everything that belonged to the twins appeared to be brand new. They had new toys, boxes of crayons, coloring books, clothes, racecars, doll houses. You name it, these kids had it. And no way was any of it second-hand.