Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
S AINT
I push open the front door, fully expecting the usual chaos of paws skidding across the hardwood floor and the boisterous barks of my dogs.
But instead of the usual blur of black and white fur, I freeze at the sight that greets me.
My jaw drops like an out-of-control express elevator hurtling to the ground.
Fuck me .
What the fuck ?
Fuck . Me . Did I already say that ?
Because both dogs are sitting in the middle of my grand entryway, staring at me with their bright blue eyes, their tails wagging just enough to show they have no clue how utterly ridiculous they look.
And they do look absolutely fucking ridiculous.
Serial is wearing a hot pink, glittery tutu skirt that barely covers his fluffy haunches, while Killer is sporting a purple tutu that sparkles and glints under the soft glow of the overhead light.
I blink.
Once and a second time.
Then I clench and unclench my jaw and try to suppress the fury that’s threatening to escape.
"Emerald!" I yell as I step fully inside.
I shrug off my jacket, still staring at the dogs, unable to take my gaze off them. But they seem completely unbothered by their new attire.
Emerald saunters into the entryway, far too casual for my liking. “Did you holler for me?”
"Emerald, what in God’s name is this?" I growl.
There's no immediate answer as she tilts her head to one side and just looks at me.
She’s fucking enjoying this .
And I might just have to goddamn kill her .
“Why the hell are Serial and Killer—er, I mean, Pumpkin and Poochie—dressed like a pair of glittery hoes?”
Her eyes widen. “You shouldn’t call them hoes?—”
But before she can say any more, I hear the soft scamper of little feet and then a high-pitched giggle.
My stomach tightens.
Because I already know. Oh Jesus, Mary, and all the saints, please save me from this, and I promise I’ll never kill anyone ever again …
Giulietta skips forward until she comes to a stop in front of me, her hair falling over her face and her tiny hands clutched together in excitement.
Her big, round eyes shine as she looks from the dogs to me, then back to the dogs.
"Do you like it, Mr. Saint?" the little girl asks, bouncing on her toes.
I glance at the dogs again. Serial whines, clearly uninterested in any of this nonsense, while Killer flops onto his back, kicking his legs like he's fully embraced the absurdity. Try as I might, I still can’t get used to their new names of Pumpkin and Poochie.
I exhale and rub the back of my neck. "Er, well…" I start.
But when I look back at Giulietta, her face is so full of hope. So damn eager for my approval.
Emerald looks at me. "She spent all afternoon dressing them up," she says. "It was…a battle of wills."
I snort. "And the dogs lost?"
" Clearly ," Emerald clips.
Giulietta rushes up to Killer, throwing her little arms around his huge, fluffy neck. "The doggies look beautiful," she insists, pressing her face into his fur. "Just like pretty princesses."
My chest tightens in a way I’m not sure I know how to handle. I wasn’t expecting to grow so attached to this little girl. Wasn’t expecting to get used to the sound of her giggling in my house, the way she clings to me when I read her a bedtime story, and the way she looks up at me like I’m a fucking superhero. I wasn’t expecting to get this attached to any of them .
I shake my head, finally allowing the chuckle that’s been building to escape. "Yeah, kid. They look…good."
Giulietta beams at me, and it’s a beautiful smile just like when her eldest sister smiles. Because whenever Emerald smiles at me, it’s like the sun coming out from behind a fucking raincloud and sprinkling beaming rays across the whole damn sky.
But I’m still not ready to admit yet just how much this little girl, her siblings, and Emerald have wormed their way into my heart...
* * *
Emerald’s cry of pleasure fills the room, and a shiver skitters down my spine as something primal and dark rolls through me. A possessive and hungry thing, knowing that I’m the one who wakes up to her like this. Who makes her fall apart again and again.
“When do you have to leave?” I rumble, brushing away the inky strand of hair clinging to her forehead.
“Like ten minutes ago,” she grins widely as she comes back down from the high.
My eyes move to the alarm clock on the end table, and I can’t help but groan. I want to keep her here with me all day, but I roll from over her and watch as she moves toward the bathroom.
As soon as she’s showered and dressed, she runs out the door to take her mom to her medical appointment. She’s still trying to convince her to go into rehab, and I know it’s going to take up most of today.
Between her leaving and me cooking and setting a stack of pancakes on the breakfast table, Emerald texts and calls to remind me at least seven times that Jaspar and Giulietta don’t have school today. As if I could forget that.
I watch the kids devour the pancakes. “Any ideas on what you two want to do today?”
“Play!” Jaspar yells. “But not with you.” Jaspar says pointedly, and I bite back a laugh. Things with him are still colder than a blizzard at times. Today’s my chance to finally finish my personal assignment: Mission Win Jaspar Over. How difficult can it be? I mean, I deal with dangerous and difficult people every day, so how hard can it be to win over a freaking six-year-old?
“Okay, so play but without me. Anything else? The zoo?”
“The zoo smells,” Jaspar huffs.
“It’s got animals,” I sigh. “What do you expect?”
Giulietta wrinkles her small nose. “We expect all animals to smell like roses. Just like my teddy bears.”
I feel like pointing out that her stuffed toys smell like flowers because she keeps drenching them with Em’s perfume when she thinks no one’s watching, but I decide to keep that thought to myself, not wanting to ruin her rose-tinted view of the world.
Later that day, I try again. “Ever played chess?” I ask Jaspar, after Giulietta announces she’s going to play with her bears.
“No.”
“With a smart brain like yours, you’d be a natural at it. Wanna learn?”
He looks at me, head tilted. Something in his eyes flickers before they narrow just slightly. “Okay.”
As I pull out a chess set, I watch Giulietta get down to the serious business of having a tea party, this time with apple juice instead of Kool-Aid. She affectionately talks to the family of bears, and each time I look at them, my chest gets tighter.
Family.
I shake my head. I can’t think about that right now. “You ready?”
Jaspar nods eagerly, standing beside me. He barely comes up to the table’s height, standing on his tiptoes to see over the edge. I laugh, picking him up and placing him on my knee.
“Better?”
He nods.
“We’ll start pretty slow, okay?”
Jaspar eyes the board, picking up the carved pieces one by one. “Why are they all different shapes?”
“Because each piece does something different. You have to be able to tell them apart.” He sets the piece down as I push forward a pawn into the center of the board. “This is a pawn. It moves one square forward at a time. Unless it’s that pawn's very first move because then, it can move one or two squares.”
“It can’t go backward? Why not?”
“Well, it can be good to get them to the other side of the board,” I explain.
“Why?”
“Because when it gets to the other side, it can become a queen, bishop, rook, or knight.”
The scrunch of his nose shows his intense concentration. “Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah, it can be.”
He nods pushing another pawn forward on his own. “Why only one square?”
“That’s the rule.”
“What about this one?”
“That’s the knight,” I say.
“Why is it a horse?”
“Because knights ride horses.”
Jaspar nods, settling on my lap a little more.
“The knight moves in an ‘L’ shape. Like this.” I show him by sliding the knight up one, then over one. “He’s a pretty special piece. He’s the only one who can jump pieces.”
“He jumps?”
“Yeah. He moves over them.”
Jaspar’s eyes widen. “Like a ninja?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Silent but deadly.”
Jaspar hums before moving the knight in the same way I did.
So on and so forth, I move through the pieces and their basic moves.
Jaspar inundates me with questions, and I answer the best I can. “You’re a good teacher, Mr. Saint.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t like you still. But you’re a good teacher.”
“I’ll take it, kiddo.”
He turns back to the board to move through a few of the simpler moves I explained earlier. The kid’s a natural, but I’m not surprised. Emerald has a sharp mind, and it only makes sense that’s Jaspar would have the same too.
A while later, we hear Emerald’s voice call out. “Hello?”
“In the den!” I reply. My brow puckers. Is it really that late already? I lean a little back in the chair, trying to get a look at the clock on the console table.
“Oh, I thought you guys were out...” Looking at the scene, around her, Emerald giggles, and my body tightens at the sound. It’s a straight shot of sunshine and ecstasy combined, and I wish I could bottle it up and keep it forever. She moves into the den, and I feel her body against my back as she looks down at Jaspar and me, a big smile on her face. “What are you doing?”
“Mr. Saint is teaching me to play.”
“Oh, he is, is he?”
Jaspar nods. “He’s a good teacher.”
“Yeah? He’s alright, I guess.”
“High compliments all around,” I say dryly, snagging Emerald’s wrist to keep her beside me. “What do you think, Jaspar, should Emerald play me?”
He nods his head eagerly.
She rolls her eyes before sitting across from me. Giulietta wanders over as well, joining us. She climbs into Emerald’s lap and beams across at me.
With a wink, I reset the board and motion for Emerald to start.
Emerald moves her pawn forward and holds my gaze. That smirk on her face tells me she’s not going to go easy on me—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I follow her eyes as they move to Jaspar in my lap, and as I watch her smile, something warm slides through me.
And emotions which I don’t want to acknowledge I know how to even feel—and don’t want to admit I actually long for—sink into me.
Acceptance.
And feeling like I belong.
* * *
I start thinking about what I’ve done to get Emerald to move in with me. How I told her that she had to be my fake fiancée. There’s something wrong with me. I’m broken and mangled. I’ve been lying for so long to people that telling the truth feels…wrong. It makes me an asshole, I know, the way I’m lying to Emerald about this whole damn thing. About how I’m lying by not telling her how I feel about her.
But this is the only way to keep her safe—at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
And there’s no way she would stay with someone like me. Someone who’s cold and emotionally cut off. Emerald needs a real connection, and she needs affection and love. And she certainly can’t get it from me.
How hard is it to just tell her that this isn’t fake…? That she’s mine. That no one is going to ever touch her.
I know I need to tell her. But telling her means that this is real. That she can walk out on me. Because who’d want someone as damaged as me?
I try to push those thoughts away. But Christian’s original objections to me being with Emerald scream in my head. He wasn’t wrong then, and he’s not wrong now. But the moment her name fell from my lips in his office that time, there was no going back.
Am I setting myself to crash and burn?
A hundred percent .
But I’ll take whatever I can get.
Because whether I admit it to her or anyone else, Emerald has me. Hook, line, and sinker...