Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
GAbrIEL
I’d lasted one full day using patience. It had felt like serving a life sentence.
Charlotte hadn’t answered my texts, hadn’t returned my calls, and my sanity was circling the drain.
If she wouldn’t hear me out willingly, then fine, I’d go over there this morning and plant myself on her porch until she did.
She opened her front door looking…frazzled? Although it was a Saturday morning after ten, she seemed off. Her hair was slightly wild, her sweater askew, and her eyes showed clear fatigue. For one insane second, I thought maybe she was as wrecked over us as I was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, seemingly distracted.
“I need five minutes for you to hear me out. That’s all I ask.” I had a lot of things to say to her but needed an opening for a deeper discussion.
Before she could answer, a toddler’s shriek pierced the air, followed by a drawn-out “Nooooo!” Austin’s voice cut in next.
“Mom, little help in here? Ryan launched his eggs all over the floor, Remi is copying him, and Laura’s wiggling out of her highchair.”
Charlotte groaned. “Now isn’t the best time.”
My brows hit the ceiling. “What the hell is going on?”
“Chaos,” she muttered, disappearing into her house.
I followed and stepped directly into the ninth circle of domestic hell. Two dogs were happily licking scrambled eggs off the tile while a baby was trying make a break for it.
“Oh, hi, Gabe.” Austin scooped up the baby, sounding casual despite the pandemonium.
I blinked. “Who are these kids?”
“My stepsiblings,” he answered. “Stassie is dealing with a mental health issue, Dad’s in Singapore, and Mom had no luck with calling some babysitting agencies to help, uh—” His face twisted. “What’s that smell?”
“Diaper blowout,” Charlotte replied flatly, swooping in to grab the baby. “Go wash your hands before you touch anything.”
He glanced at his palm, went green, and bolted down the hall gagging.
Before I could process any of it, the brown dog barfed the eggs onto the floor, promptly re-eating them like he was in a speed-eating contest. The white dog dove in, determined to claim the prize.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, pinching my nose from the pungent smell hitting my nostrils. Austin’s retching echoed from the bathroom and nearly took me down with him.
I dug deep, taking shallow breaths through my mouth and hoping I could keep it together. One did not apologize and declare love while puking on a woman’s kitchen floor.
Charlotte’s eyes met mine, showing resignation. “You should escape while you can.”
Instead, I rolled my neck like a boxer before a match and squared my shoulders. “Tell me what to do.”
She blinked. “Why?”
I tilted her chin with my fingers, needing the smallest of contact. “Because partners don’t just show up for the good parts. They stay for the shit storms, too.”
She snorted, half laugh, half exhaustion. “Three under four and two dogs? Are you crazy?”
I was crazy. Crazy over her and nothing, and I did mean nothing, would keep me from proving it. “I never back down from a challenge.” I let the words hang with the double meaning. “I’m in.”
Her sigh told me she wasn’t convinced, but she handed me a toddler while she carried the baby upstairs. I wrangled the three-year-olds into watching Frozen, which surfaced memories of when the movie had been Samantha’s favorite.
Twenty minutes later, Austin thundered downstairs with his baseball bag. “You sure it’s still okay if I go? Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“Of course,” Charlotte answered, fatigue etched in every line of her face. “You can’t miss your game. Your grandparents are due in tonight, so it’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He glanced at me. “Good luck.” And then he was gone.
The house descended into pure slapstick for the rest of the afternoon. Every time I opened my mouth to talk to Charlotte about something other than the kids, disaster struck.
Ryan launched juice across the rug. Remi face-planted into a pile of Legos with all the drama of a soap opera death scene.
The dogs raided the laundry and paraded Charlotte’s bra like it was a trophy.
Meanwhile, the baby, Laura, had eyes only for Charlotte, and if she left the room, all hell broke loose.
By naptime, the place resembled a kiddy playtime war zone, and Charlotte looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. She sagged against the counter. “Austin will be home soon, so it’s fine for you to go.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then understand we don’t have time to discuss what’s going on with us today. I don’t have the capacity.”
The words I wanted to say hovered on the edge of my tongue. But not like this. Not when her world was already on fire.
She’d said “us,” which was a start. “Then, we’ll wait.”