Chapter 8
Mason
The second Madison starts smearing frosting into my beard, Kelly gives me a look.
Not the you’re in trouble look.
The come help me before these girls turn into full-blown sugar demons look.
I shift Madison higher on my hip, careful to keep her sticky little hands away from the front of my shirt, though at this point it’s a lost cause. Pink frosting is already smeared across my chest, my forearm, and probably half my face.
Maddy is crying into Kelly’s shoulder, more offended than hurt after Madison shoved her face-first into her cake, and Kelly’s shirt is now wearing just as much frosting as the girls are.
Around us, the backyard is still buzzing with laughter.
Bella is bent over the table trying to catch her breath, Sarah’s face is bright red from laughing so hard, and Johnny is practically rolling around in the grass over the fact that one of his sisters “won” the cake fight.
“Come on,” Kelly says, shifting Maddy and brushing a sticky curl out of her face. “Let’s get them cleaned up before they glue themselves to us.”
I snort and follow her toward the house.
Madison babbles happily the whole way, one frosting-covered hand patting my cheek like she’s proud of the destruction she caused. Every time I think I’ve got her hand away from my face, she finds a new patch of skin to smear icing on.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I mutter.
She grins at me. Then grabs my beard again.
Behind us, Bella’s voice rings out over the yard.
“Alright, if y’all want cake, line up before Devil eats all of it.”
“I heard that!” Devil shouts.
“That was the point,” Bella calls back.
The house feels almost quiet compared to the chaos outside. Not silent—never silent with this many people here—but softer. The noise from the party filters in through the open back door in waves. Laughter. Music. Someone yelling at one of the kids not to run with a fork.
Kelly heads straight for the upstairs bathroom with Maddy still on her hip, and I follow with Madison, both of us leaving a trail of frosting-smudged disaster in our wake.
Inside the bathroom, Kelly sets Maddy down on a towel spread across the counter and reaches for a warm washcloth.
Maddy’s crying has already dropped to soft sniffles now that she’s away from the crowd. Her cheeks are pink, eyelashes still damp, and there’s frosting literally in her hair.
I set Madison beside her sister and she immediately tries to crawl toward the sink.
“Absolutely not,” I mutter, catching her around the middle and pulling her back before she can faceplant into the faucet.
Kelly laughs softly under her breath.
“She’s got no fear.”
“She’s got no sense.”
“Wonder where they got that from.”
I shoot her a look.
Kelly just smiles and starts wiping frosting from Maddy’s face, gentle and patient while our daughter squirms and whines in protest. I grab another washcloth, wet it with warm water, and turn my attention to Madison.
She does not appreciate this.
The second the cloth touches her cheek, she twists away with an outraged squeal, nearly kicking herself right off the counter.
“Hold still,” I tell her, catching one chubby leg before it can connect with my ribs. “You started the war, baby. Now you gotta deal with the cleanup.”
She babbles something that sounds suspiciously like an argument.
Kelly snorts. “Pretty sure she just told you no.”
“Yeah, well, she’s outvoted.”
Between the two of us, we manage to get most of the frosting off.
Most being the key word. There’s still pink icing tucked behind Madison’s ear and a stubborn smear in Maddy’s curls that Kelly has to comb through with wet fingers while I hold her still.
Both girls are fussy, overtired, and sugared up enough that every second feels like trying to wrestle tiny caffeinated octopuses.
By the time we’re done, the girls are in fresh outfits—soft little Minnie Mouse onesies we’d already had laid out just in case, because Kelly always plans for disasters and I’ve learned not to question it.
Both girls smell like baby soap and faintly like vanilla frosting no matter how hard we tried to scrub them clean. Kelly looks down at herself and sighs. Her shirt is streaked with pink icing where Maddy cried into her, and a little blob of cake is somehow stuck near her collarbone.
I reach out and swipe it off with my thumb. She raises an eyebrow.
“You gonna help me with the rest of it?”
My mouth twitches.
“Later.”
Color warms her cheeks just a little, and she shakes her head like she’s trying not to smile.
“Behave.”
“No promises.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a softness in them that still gets me every damn time. I lean down and kiss her anyway—quick, because the twins are both watching us now, but long enough that I taste frosting.
When we head back outside, the party has shifted again. Most of the brothers and old ladies are already finishing their cake, paper plates balanced on their knees or on the tables while they talk and laugh.
The backyard smells like charcoal, sugar, and warm summer air. Kids dart between the chairs, some of them with frosting on their faces too, because apparently our daughters aren’t the only ones who lost control around dessert.
Bella spots us first.
“There they are,” she says, handing Sarah another stack of napkins. “The birthday girls survived.”
“Barely,” Kelly mutters.
Johnny comes barreling over the second he sees us.
“Are they okay?”
“They’re fine,” I tell him.
He peers up at Madison, then at Maddy.
“Madison pushed Maddy in her cake.”
“I’m aware.”
Johnny grins.
“That was awesome.”
Kelly gives him a look. “No, it was not.”
He shrugs in that way kids do when they know they probably shouldn’t agree but they absolutely do anyway.
I help Kelly settle the girls back into the playpen under the shade tree where they’ll be contained for at least five minutes if we’re lucky. The second their feet hit the blanket, Madison grabs a stuffed rabbit and Maddy crawls straight for a stacking toy like nothing happened.
Tiny chaos gremlins.
I straighten up and glance at Kelly.
“You sit. I’ll get us cake.”
She doesn’t argue, which tells me she’s as tired as I am. A few minutes later I come back with two plates—one for her, one for me. Vanilla cake with buttercream frosting, too sweet for my taste if I’m being honest, but Kelly likes it and it’s my girls’ birthday so I’m not about to complain.
We sit side by side at the end of one of the folding tables, knees brushing under the tablecloth while the party buzzes around us.
Kelly takes her first bite and practically melts.
“Oh wow.”
I laugh.
“That good?”
She nods immediately, already cutting off another piece with her fork.
“Way too good.”
I take a bite of mine.
She’s right. The cake is soft and rich, the frosting not as overpowering as I expected.
Around us, the sounds of the party settle into something warm and familiar—Devil arguing with Justice over who took the last burger, Bella laughing at something Sarah says, Stryker reminding one of the younger kids not to throw cake at anyone unless they want to get thrown in the kiddie pool.
For a few minutes, it’s just me and Kelly sharing cake and watching our daughters play. Madison is trying to eat the ear off the stuffed rabbit. Maddy has somehow stacked two rings on top of each other and looks ridiculously proud of herself.
Kelly leans into my side for a second, shoulder brushing mine.
“I can’t believe they’re one.”
I look over at the girls, at the way their little hands move with so much determination as they explore the toys in front of them.
“Feels like yesterday we brought them home.”
Kelly smiles softly.
“And you and Johnny wouldn’t let anyone near them.”
“They were tiny.”
“They were fine.”
“They were ours.”
She laughs quietly and reaches for my hand under the table, threading our fingers together.
“Still are.”
That lands somewhere deep in my chest. I squeeze her hand once before letting go so I can set my empty plate aside. Across the yard, Bella starts gathering the kids.
“Alright!” she calls. “Who wants to help the girls open presents?”
Every child in the yard immediately starts yelling. Johnny is the first one there.
“ME!”
Of course he is.
The gift table gets pulled closer to the front, and Kelly and I grab the girls so they can sit in our laps while everyone crowds around.
There’s a mountain of presents waiting on the table—bright wrapping paper, gift bags, bows, tissue paper, enough pink and red to blind a man.
Johnny wedges himself directly in front of the pile like he’s the official present inspector.
Demon points a warning finger at him from across the table. “Hands off till they’re ready, little man.”
Johnny clasps both hands behind his back.
“I’m helping.”
“You’re hovering.”
“Same thing.”
Laughter rolls through the yard.
Kelly settles Maddy on her lap while I keep Madison in mine, one hand around her waist because she’s already trying to launch herself toward the presents.
“Alright,” Kelly says, smiling at the crowd. “Let’s see what these girls got.”
The first gift is for Maddy from Bella and Stryker.
It’s wrapped in red paper with white polka dots, and Johnny nearly vibrates while Kelly helps Maddy tear at the corner.
Inside is a soft Minnie Mouse toddler chair—plush, oversized, and perfect for a little girl who likes to climb onto everything.
Along with it is a matching Minnie Mouse blanket, red and black with little bows stitched along the edges.
Bella smiles. “Figured they each needed their own chair.”
“They’re gonna love those,” Kelly says, and I can already picture both girls fighting over them anyway.
Madison’s first gift is the matching one—another Minnie Mouse toddler chair and matching blanket set, only hers has a white bow sewn into one corner so we can tell them apart without flipping the chairs over. Madison slaps the blanket with both hands like she approves.