19. Kyra
19
Kyra
“ I ’m bored.”
I reach for the remote and turn the TV off. Saturday morning cartoons and pancakes have always been something Heidi and Hunter have enjoyed, but apparently not today.
“Well, what do you want to do?”
“You really don’t have to go to work?” Heidi asks.
“Nope, not today. The diner’s covered so you’re stuck with me.”
I lean toward my daughter and tickle her ribs. She giggles, and it hits me just how much I’ve been missing with working so much.
“Stop it, Mommy,” she says, barely able to get the words out past her laughter.
“Okay.” I pull my hands away and turn toward Hunter. “What about you, young man? You think you can fend off the tickle monster?”
My son rolls his eyes, but his laughter quickly spills over the second my fingertips touch the soles of his feet. It doesn’t take long for Heidi to jump in and defend her brother, and before I know it, we’re rolling on the floor, a tangle of arms and legs. It’s been a long time since we’ve had this much fun together.
Unfortunately, the doorbell rings, breaking up the party.
“Coming,” I call as I scramble to my feet. “Kids, go change out of your pajamas while I see who this is.”
They whine but don’t argue as they trudge to their room. When I open the door, my heart skips a beat. Reaper is standing there with his arms full of bags.
“Morning,” he says with a grin.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt.
He lifts the bags and shakes them slightly. “I come bearing gifts. Can I come in?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Following him to the couch, I ask, “Who’s covering the diner? I thought it was your day to work.”
“It was,” he admits. “But I switched with Inferno.”
“What’d that cost ya?” I ask, knowing that his VP doesn’t do many favors for free. I’ve gotten to know the guys pretty well. They’re all great, but they also each have their own quirks.
“A case of beer,” Reaper tells me.
“Wow. You got off cheap.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll think of something else. He always does.”
“Right.”
“Where are Heidi and Hunter?” he asks.
“They’re in thei?—”
“Reaper!” Heidi interrupts as she barrels through the living room and jumps on Reaper’s lap. “Mommy didn’t tell us you were coming.”
“Mommy didn’t know,” he says as he glances down the hallway. “Where’s your brother?”
“He had to go wee wee,” Heidi whispers, and Reaper chuckles.
“Ah, okay. Well, I have a surprise for all of you. But I’ll wait until he comes out to tell you what it is.”
“A surprise?” I ask.
“Yeah, I was thinking about something Hunter said last week while you were out running errands, and?—”
“Hi, Reaper,” Hunter says, joining us.
“Hey, buddy.”
“It seems Reaper has a surprise for us,” I tell my son.
“A surprise? Really?”
“Really.”
“What is it?”
“Sit down, and I’ll tell you,” Reaper instructs.
At first, it threw me off when Reaper would tell my kids what to do, but I quickly realized that he wasn’t being mean or demeaning, or even bossy. He’s simply being a man who acts like a father. And Lord knows, my kids need a positive male role model and father figure.
Not that I’m accepting applications for the job.
“Do you remember telling me that you want to be a zookeeper when you grow up?” Reaper asks Hunter when we’re all seated, and Hunter nods. “Well, since we all have a free day, I thought it’d be fun to go to the zoo.”
My son’s eyes widen. “You’re taking me to the zoo?”
“I wanna go,” Heidi says.
“We’re all going,” he informs them. “If your mom says it’s okay.”
I should say no. Every single person in this room is already getting too attached to what’s a temporary arrangement. Then I look at the excitement on my children’s faces and common sense loses the battle.
“It’s okay with me,” I finally say.
“If we’re going to the zoo, what’s in the bags?” Heidi asks, ever the curious little girl.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Reaper teases as he starts emptying the contents onto the coffee table. “We’ve got disposable cameras, sunscreen, snacks, water, juice, and safari hats.”
“What’s a camera?” Hunter asks, and I burst into laughter.
“What’s a…” Reaper looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “How does he not know what a camera is?”
It takes a minute to get myself under control, and when I do, I shake my head. “Nobody uses a camera anymore, Reaper. We use our cell phones.”
He stares at me for a moment, and I swear there’s confusion in his eyes. It makes no sense because he has a cell phone, and I’ve seen him taking pictures with it.
“Right, cell phones. I thought…” He takes a deep breath. “I guess I was trying to give them an old-fashioned adventure.”
Suddenly, I feel guilty for laughing. He seems so genuinely distraught. Fortunately, the twins save the day.
“An adventure!” Heidi exclaims.
“A real old-fashioned one,” Hunter adds.
And that sets the tone for the rest of the day. The zoo is a hit, not only with the kids, but also with me. Fun hasn’t been in my vocabulary very much the last six years, and I miss it. I miss… this.
Things between Jason and me weren’t always bad. There were good times, too. Times where I felt loved and appreciated and not so alone. Then he left, and I built my walls. I got so comfortable behind those barriers, and then Reaper came along.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… I don’t need a man in my life. But it is nice to have a friend.
“They’re tuckered out,” Reaper says when we pull into the driveway after a long day.
“They had fun.”
“Did you?”
“I did.” I turn in the passenger seat to face him. “What about you?”
“I had a blast.”
“It wasn’t…” I swallow past the now forming lump in my throat. “I mean, did your kids like the zoo, too?”
His face becomes a mask. “I don’t know. Never got around to taking them.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. The past is just that, the past.”
“You must miss them, though.”
Reaper glances away from me. “Every single day.”
“Yet you don’t want to talk about them.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’ll help you get them inside and tucked into bed.”
With that, he exits the truck and opens the rear door of the extended cab. I hesitate for a moment, caught between wanting to push the subject and wanting to hold onto the great day we just had. In the end, I decide that pushing isn’t the right thing to do.
“I’m sorry about before,” I say softly once the kids are settled into their beds, and we return to the living room. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
“I know you didn’t.”
We stand face to face, toe to toe. My core tightens being this close to him. The heat in his eyes reflects my own, and I resist the urge to shiver. How is it possible that I can go from feeling guilty to desperate in the span of seconds?
It’s him. It’s Reaper. He does something to you that is inexplicable.
“How can I make up for it?” I ask breathlessly.
He hesitates, and I worry that he’s going to turn on his heel and storm out of my house, but he dashes that worry when he reaches out to cup the back of my neck and haul me to him.
Reaper’s lips fuse with mine, gently at first, and more demanding almost instantaneously.
I’m so screwed.