Chapter twenty-eight Parental Controls #2
I can feel myself being outmaneuvered, but there are worse gifts than security.
I catch Kieran’s gaze.
His expression is as serious as I've ever seen it. "I want them safe and the phone will help me keep them that way."
I nod. "I know, but you have to talk about stuff like this with me first."
"Good luck with that," Ellie singsongs.
"Men like Kieran are doers, not talkers, sweetheart," mom says. "Like your dad. Do you remember when he bought that airsoft pistol for Brady? I was fit to be tied."
Brady had loved going to the airsoft range with his friends. It's no wonder he joined the military right out of high school.
"I remember you yelling."
"And your father made a very nice apology to me later along with a promise never to do it again."
"Eww, gran," Sadie says, proving that unlike her younger sisters, who are entirely occupied with their new phones, she's still listening to us.
"Trust me, girl, your mom was not an immaculate conception," mom teases.
My daughter looks ready to bolt and I can't help laughing. I turn to share my humor with Kieran but he's staring at my mom, looking stunned.
"What?" I ask him.
He shakes his head. "She stood up for me."
"Yeah. Mom is an equal opportunity pragmatist. Just wait until you get on her bad side though."
"No plans to do that."
A little while later, Ellie is gone. The girls are fully occupied with their phones in the living room, and Mom has started lecturing Sadie about not posting her location online "for predators and nosy girls from school alike."
My guess is the warning is unnecessary. If Kieran hasn't already had Ellie put something on their phones preventing the girls from doing that, she will.
I find myself standing at the sink rinsing plates that absolutely do not need rinsing. Mostly because I’m trying to calm down. Not about the phones exactly. Okay, partly about the phones.
But also about the way Kieran looked standing there in the middle of our tiny kitchen while Joy climbed his leg asking if Minnie Mouse could text back in emojis.
Like he belonged.
Warmth presses against my back.
I don’t jump.
I should probably be alarmed I’ve gotten so used to Kieran moving around me silently.
"You’re still mad," he says quietly.
I keep my attention on the sink even though the plate in my hands has already been rinsed three times. "I’m not mad."
His big hand settles on my hip.
"You're scrubbin' clean dishes like they insulted your mother."
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. "I just..." I sigh and set the plate aside. "I need you to understand something."
"Okay."
Troy’s okay usually meant, I’m waiting for you to stop talking and be happy with me again. Kieran’s okay sounds like, explain it to me.
Needing to see if his expression matches that tone, I turn around in the narrow space between him and the counter. Our bodies press together and my brain fritzes.
I'm getting used to it.
"For six years every decision was mine. Mom was always there for me, but she never took on a parental role." I shake my head. "I’m not used to sharing that parental space with someone."
His expression stays intent and focused on my face.
"I know you were trying to protect them," I add, in case there's any doubt.
His jaw flexes slightly. "The idea of one of them needing help and not being able to reach us..." He shakes his head once, hard. "Couldn’t stand it."
Protective, possessive fear stares down at me, way too strong for a man who can measure his time as a stepdad in weeks.
Kieran doesn't love me. He might not miss me when he has to work so late, it makes more sense for him to catch a nap at the Bunker. But he cares about my girls.
Maybe even about me a little too.
My anger softens around the edges. "I get that."
He studies me for a second before asking carefully, "Still fucked up?"
I laugh helplessly. "A little, but I'll forgive you if you promise not to do it again." I pause and give him my best I-mean-business stern look. "And mean it."
"I promise."
"All decisions about the girls and their welfare are made jointly." Does he realize how hard that is to offer?
And how fast I will renege if he messes it up? Only, deep in my heart I know he won't.
"Agreed." He lifts me onto the edge of the counter and leans down to nuzzle my neck. "Thank you for sharing our daughters with me."
Our daughters.
Kieran's petition for adoption of the girls has already been filed with the county Family Court. Soon enough, he will be as much their legal parent as I am.
That should scare me. I should have insisted on waiting. It doesn't. I didn't.
We're in this for a lifetime and again, my heart is absolutely convinced of Kieran's sincere desire to be a good father.
The apartment beyond the open kitchen door hums with life. Joy’s shrill excitement. Neeve quietly explaining some feature she already figured out. Sadie pretending not to be interested while absolutely being interested.
Mom telling everyone they’re addicted to technology while peering over Joy’s shoulder at the screen herself.
Home. My family.
Including my taciturn husband.
"You wanna go for a walk?" he asks into my neck.
Is that code for sneaking to his SUV and making out in the backseat like teenagers? "A walk?"
"That coffee place you like on the corner."
I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "Are you bribing me with caffeine?"
"Maybe."
"You think I’m that easy?"
His gaze drifts deliberately down my body before returning to my face. "No, baby girl. Not easy. Perfect."
Heat blooms instantly beneath my skin.
Honestly, it should be illegal the way this man can turn me on with a single sentence.
I glance toward the living room. "You think it'll be okay?"
Suddenly, I want nothing more than to take an evening walk in the spring air with my husband.
"Dagda’s outside. Your mom’s in there. Nobody’s kidnappin’ anybody in the next thirty minutes."
"Very comforting."
"It should be."
I roll my eyes but grab his hand and ask mom if she minds watching the girls while Kieran and I take a short walk.
"Oh, course not. Get on with you." She winks at us, showing she thinks our plans are less G rated than a simple walk too.
Five minutes later we’re walking down the sidewalk and my hopes of necking in the backseat of his SUV are dashed.
Subtly vigilant, Kieran keeps one hand low on my back while we walk. I keep thinking about spicy times in the back seat of his SUV while we order and get our coffees. Decaf.
It's still yummy.
But not as yummy as time alone with Kieran.
Which is why I veto his suggestion of getting drinks for mom and the girls.
"You know," I say casually as we exit the coffee shop, "we don't have to go straight home."
"You want to go somewhere else?" he asks.
"To your SUV," I say bluntly.
He stops and looks down at me, his brows drawn together in question. "You want to drive somewhere?"
Is he really this dense?
"There are things you can do in a car besides drive," I hint heavily.
The passersbys split and walk around us without a single complaint. Not like it would be if I was the one stopped in the middle of the sidewalk without Kieran.
"Truck. Not car."
"Does it really matter?" I ask, some of the impatience I feel bleeding into my voice.
Understanding finally registering, Kieran's eyes go molten just that fast. He opens his mouth to answer, but then goes still, his gaze darting side to side.