Chapter 23 Reggie
Twenty Three
Reggie
“Ma, where do you want this box?” Jaylen asks, carrying what looks like half my kitchen into Blayne’s house.
“Just set it on the counter for now, baby,” I tell him, trying to figure out how the hell we accumulated so much stuff in such a small cottage.
It’s moving day, and Blayne’s entire crew showed up at eight this morning with trucks and muscles. The whole thing’s been chaos from minute one.
“Reggie, where do these go?” Tommy calls out, holding a box marked ‘bathroom stuff.’
“Um, I guess the master bathroom?” I cock an eyebrow his way. Men…
“Which one’s the master?” He asks.
“The big one at the end of the hall.”
“They’re all big,” Carlos points out. “This place is huge.”
He’s not wrong. After living in the cottage for months, Blayne’s house feels massive. Like we could get lost in here.
“Mama, can I pick which room I want?” Annalise asks, bouncing around my legs.
“We talked about this, baby. Blayne already showed you which rooms are yours.”
“But I want to see them again!”
“After we get everything moved in.”
“But…”
“Princess,” Blayne’s voice cuts through the chaos as he walks in carrying two boxes like they weigh nothing. “Why don’t you go organize your new toys in your room? Make sure everything’s how you want it.”
“Really?” she shrieks.
“Really. Top of the stairs, second door on the right.”
She takes off running, and I can hear her feet pounding up the stairs.
“You got her new toys?” I ask him with a hand on my hip. He winks, pressing a quick kiss to my lips as he passes me. “Blayne Madison, stop spoiling these kids. They’re gonna turn your house upside down.”
“Our house,” he throws over his shoulder, correcting me.
Our house. The words make my heart swell.
“Boss,” Martinez appears in the doorway, “where do you want the sewing machine?”
“Sewing machine goes in the studio,” Blayne says.
“The what now?”
“Studio. Down the hall, last door on the left.”
I stop what I’m doing and stare at him. “What studio?”
“The one I built you.”
“You built me a studio?” Yes, my voice sounds watery when I ask him that.
“Well, yeah. You need somewhere to work.” His smile is so sure, so steady.
“Blayne, I told you I could just use a corner of the living room or something.”
“And I told you that was bullshit. Come on, let me show you, love.”
He takes my hand and leads me down a hallway I’ve been in before, but the door at the end was always closed. Now it’s open, and when I see what’s inside, I nearly fall over.
It’s perfect. Better than perfect. There’s a huge cutting table positioned perfectly under the windows, built-in storage for fabric, professional lighting, and not one but two sewing machines—including one that’s way nicer than the one I have.
“Blayne,” I breathe. “You didn’t… this is…”
“You like it?” He’s standing with his big arms crossed, biceps bulging, in battered jeans and a ratty t-shirt.
So fucking handsome, he makes my heart hurt.
And that quiet, steady smile, his big working hands.
His clear blue eyes. The tanned skin, from hours spent working outdoors.
The scars on his hands. Inside him. All he’s carried throughout his life. All that’s made him who he is…
“I love it, baby. But how did you do all this in a week?” I’m wiping my cheeks.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking almost shy. “I’ve been working on it for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Couple months.”
“Couple months? We’ve only been… we only just…”
“I know. But I was hoping.”
The admission makes my throat tight. While I was still scared to hope for anything permanent, he was building me a workspace. Planning for a future I was too chicken to even think about.
“There’s more,” he says.
“More?”
“MAMA!” Annalise’s voice echoes from upstairs. “COME SEE! COME SEE RIGHT NOW!”
“I think she found her new toys,” Blayne says with a grin.
We head upstairs, and Annalise practically tackles me the second I reach the top.
“Did you see? Did you see my room?”
“Not yet, baby.”
“Come look! It’s the most beautiful room in the whole world!”
She drags me down the hall to a room I’ve never been in, and when I see it, I understand why she’s so excited.
It’s like something out of a magazine. The walls are painted a soft lavender, there’s a reading nook by the window with built-in bookshelves, and in the corner there’s a whole display area for her stuffed animals.
But the best part is the ceiling: he’s painted it to look like a night sky, complete with glow-in-the-dark stars.
“It’s like sleeping outside, but inside!” Annalise explains. “And look, all my animals have their own spots. And I have so many new ones!”
“When did you do this?” I turn to ask Blayne. And this time I don’t even bother drying the tears streaming from my eyes.
“When I wasn’t with you guys,” he replies softly, pulling me in his arms.
“Mama!” Now it’s Nia’s turn to yell from down the hall. This man is gonna give my kids heart attacks. “You need to see this!”
We find Nia in what I guess is her new room, and she’s just standing in the middle looking stunned.
“This is mine?” she asks Blayne in a small voice, so unlike her usual blase self.
“All yours, sweetheart,” he replies with a kind smile.
The room is perfect for my daughter’s tastes. The walls are a sophisticated gray; there’s a huge desk by the window for homework, and an entire wall of built-in bookshelves. But the thing that really gets me is the reading corner: it’s got this amazing hanging chair and perfect lighting.
“I’ve always wanted a hanging chair,” Nia says quietly, eyes glazed over.
“I remember you mentioning it,” Blayne says.
When did she mention it? And how did he remember, with everything these kids say? I shake my head. Stil smiling, still overwhelmed.
“Where’s Jaylen’s room?” I finally ask.
“Next door.”
Jaylen’s room is the most teenage boy room I’ve ever seen. Dark blue walls, a built-in desk, and, I shit you not, a mini fridge in the corner.
“A mini-fridge?” I ask, turning to Blayne.
“Figured he’d want snacks without having to come downstairs,” he explains with a pretend-innocent grin, scratching the back of his head.
“This is so cool,” Jaylen says, and he actually sounds excited for once. “Can I really have whatever I want in the fridge?”
“Within reason,” Blayne tells him with a stern look. Good, cause I don’t have it in me right now to worry about the potential hazard a fridge inside a teenage boy’s room represents. Talk about growing bacteria…
“What about the master?” I ask, because if he’s done this much for the kids’ rooms, I’m almost scared to see what he did to ours.
Our bedroom, God, our bedroom, has been completely transformed. There’s still his big bed and dresser, but now there’s also a vanity area with perfect lighting and a mirror that probably cost more than my car. And through a doorway that definitely wasn’t there before…
“Blayne Madison, is that… is that a closet?” I ask, almost running.
“Walk-in closet,” he replies. “With an island and everything.”
I walk into the closet of my dreams. Built-in organizers, perfect lighting, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry and accessories. It’s bigger than my bedroom in the cottage.
“Blayne,” I say, and my voice comes out all shaky. “This is too much.”
“It’s not too much.”
“You built me a closet. A whole-ass closet.”
“You need space for your clothes.”
“I could’ve used half of yours.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
I turn around to look at him, and he’s leaning against the doorframe watching me with a soft expression.
“Why?” I ask, swallowing with difficulty.
“Why what, baby?”
“Why did you do all this, handsome?”
He takes a step closer, wrapping his large, warm hand at the back of my neck. “Because I love you. Because I want you to be happy here. Because this is your home now, not just mine.”
“But the time, the money, the work…”
“Worth it. Every single second. And don’t talk to me about money. We have more than enough for anything we need.”
“How do you know it’s worth it?” I ask. And goddammit, I’m gonna cry again.
“Because you’re standing in your new closet looking like, you might cry happy tears. The kids are overjoyed. That’s all I wanted.”
He’s right. I am about to cry overwhelmed, grateful, can’t-believe-this-is-my-life tears.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” I breathe softly, getting on my tiptoes and pulling down his face for a kiss.
“Believe it,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Mom!” Annalise appears in the doorway. “Can we have pizza tonight?”
“Sure, baby.”
“Can we eat it in my room?”
“Annalise…”
“Can we…”
My phone rings, cutting her off. I glance at the screen, and my stomach drops. It’s Richard.
“I should take this,” I tell Blayne.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just… give me a minute.”
I step into the hallway and answer the call.
“Richard.”
“Hey Reggie. How are you?”
“We’re fine.”
“Good, good. Listen, I was thinking about coming out for a visit. See the kids, see how you’re all doing.”
“A visit?”
“Just a weekend. I miss you guys.”
Bullshit. He’s barely called since the divorce was final.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We’re still getting settled.”
“All the more reason for me to come help. Where are you living? Still in that little cottage?”
“No, we moved.”
“Oh? Where to?”
Before I can answer, Blayne appears with a box in his arms.
“Babe, where do you want your books?” he calls out.
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Dead silence.
“Regina,” Richard’s voice comes out different colder. “Who was that?”
“A friend.”
“What kind of friend calls you ‘babe’?”
“Richard…”
“Are you living with someone?”
“That’s not really your business.”
“It is my business when it involves my children.”
“They’re my children too. And we’re doing fine.”
“I’ll call you back,” he says, and the line goes dead.
I stare at my phone for a second, my heart pounding. This is not good. This is really not good.
“Everything okay?” Blayne asks, setting down the box.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Everything’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. Richard heard Blayne’s voice, and now he knows I’m not living alone. And if I know my ex-husband, he’s not going to let this go.