Chapter Seventeen
River
Flora had a part in the school play and was thrilled to invite us. She even drew special pictures—one for each of us. Those was her “invitations,” and they were adorable too. How could they not be? Flora made them.
She drew a picture of Allen with her hugging him tight in his griffin form. For Matthew’s picture he was sitting on the couch behind her head. And for me, she drew a picture of my tiger, lying in the sun with her beside me.
She’s always been an interesting kid like that—much more in tune with the beast than with the person. Our former alpha said she was going to be a leader someday, possibly a streak alpha. I tended to think she would lean more toward being a healer. But whatever she decided to do, it would be her choice.
“Are you going to tell us what your part is?” Allen asked again.
We’d all tried to figure it out. She wouldn’t even let us help her with her costume, promising us that she did it all at school. She said we’d never guess and, given we didn’t even know what the play was about, she was right.
“It’s a surprise. You will be shocked.”
“Okay. I hope it’s nothing scary.” Matthew winked.
She giggled. “I can’t be scary. I don’t even have my tiger yet!”
I didn’t want to tell her the truth—that every day since I had become her Uncle Daddy, there was an element of fear. Not of her, but of whether I was good enough to keep her alive and safe and happy.
After how tragically everything ended for my sister and her mate, it put reality at the forefront—that not everything turned out as sunshine and roses, no matter how much we wanted it to.
“All right. Let’s go.” Allen grabbed the keys.
She was already at the door.
We piled into the car and drove to the school, having to park three blocks away.
“Looks like all your friends’ moms and dads are here too,” I said.
“And some grandpas and some grandmas and some aunts and some uncles and some neighbors and some steps, but I don’t understand what that means,” she added.
“A lot of people,” Matthew agreed,
“How exciting for your theatrical debut.” I held my hand out for her.
When we got to the school itself, she ran straight to her teacher and told us to be sure to sit in the front. That was easier said than done. A lot of other parents got the same instructions from their kids, but we managed to find seats only three rows back—front and center.
The show began, the curtain rose, and I kept waiting for her to come out. But she didn’t.
There was a princess, a dragon, a bunch of dancing flowers—but no Flora.
And unlike any school play I’d been in, there was no program for me to even cheat. Her surprise was truly going to be a surprise.
“Do you think they forgot about her?” Matthew whispered.
“I don’t think anybody can forget about Flora,” I murmured.
She, for sure, wouldn’t let them.
The play continued, and finally, it was time for the bow at the end—and still, we hadn’t seen her.
First, the princess. Then the dragon. The dancing flowers.
And on and on they went—until the final person came up.
The rock in the center of the stage, one I didn’t even know was a person, stood up, walked to the front, and bowed.
“That’s our girl,” Allen whispered, squeezing my knee.
Sure enough—she was the rock.
It was adorable and fabulous—but also not at all what I was expecting, not with the way she had been going on and on about her play.
They had us pick the kids up on the stage—one parent only—while the rest of us were directed out. The crowd was just too deep.
It took a while for me to get up there, but when I did, she was beaming—especially when she saw how pleased I was with her performance.
“Bet you didn’t even know it was me. I was such a good actress.”
“You, my sweet girl, were the best actress,” I assured her. “I had no idea that was you. None! I kept looking, thinking, is she the dragon? Is she a flower? I knew you weren’t the princess because the princess was much taller than you, and you’re not good at stilts.”
She giggled. “I haven’t tried any stilts, Uncle Daddy. But maybe…could I get stilts?”
I 100 percent blamed myself for that one.
The guys were outside waiting for us, Allen already having brought the car around. That’s how long it took to get through the crowds.
“So, what do you think—ice cream for the wonderful performance?”
“I never say no to ice cream!” she declared as she buckled her seat belt. “And because it’s a special occasion, maybe I can get sprinkles.”
I bit back a smile. She always got sprinkles. But she always made sure there was a reason she was allowed sprinkles because sprinkles were special.
“Sprinkles galore,” Allen said, already driving to an ice cream parlor far away from the school, so we wouldn’t have to deal with the crowd.
We stood behind a family with a few little kids, including a baby in arms.
“That’s gonna be us,” Flora said.
I didn’t quite understand what she meant. But then it was our turn, and we ordered our ice cream, and I kinda forgot about it.
When we went back to our seats, she lifted her cone, gathering more sprinkles than ice cream on the tip of her tongue.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Delicious?” Matthew guessed.
“No, Matthew Daddy, I didn’t mean sprinkles,” she corrected. “I meant the baby. Can we get one of those?”
And suddenly, her other comment made sense.
“I-I think that’s for the grown-ups to decide,” Matthew hedged.
“Fine. But just so you know, there’s lots of space in my room. I can share.”
“Good to know,” I murmured.
Later that night, after she was in bed, Matthew asked, “Do you think… Do you think it’s time?”
“That’s up to you,” Allen said, scooping him up onto his lap. “It’s your body. You get to decide.”
“But do you both want to have more babies.”
“Heck yeah,” I said a little too loudly.
“Very much so.”
Matthew took a deep breath. “Then…I think I want to go off my birth control and see what happens.”
Allen grinned, still holding him. “I think we should go see what happens now.”
Matthew giggled. “It…it doesn’t work that way.”
“Who says it doesn’t?” Allen teased, walking toward the bedroom.
And I followed—right behind.