Chapter 13
13
CONSTANCE
The car hummed along the road, the faint glow of early morning light filtering through the windshield. Constance turned in her seat, casting a sharp, knowing look at the two deceptively angelic faces in the back. Paige and Kayla sat primly, hands clasped in their laps, their eyes wide with forced innocence.
Keith, gripping the steering wheel like it was his last tether to sanity, heaved a sigh so heavy it might have physically lowered the car. Constance ignored him.
“All right – ground rules, girls,” Constance began pointedly, looking over her shoulder in the car at the two excited faces the next morning… and ignoring Keith’s heavy sigh of defeat. “First of all, we wash our hands when we are done visiting the cats – with soap .”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her radar just pinged wildly as she squinted her eyes at the two wide-eyed angels that were looking at her, perched on the back seat. The glow from the sunlight could have been a halo at that moment… but it was more like a glare to hide the horns.
“I’m serious,” Constance continued. “And we are just looking today. We do not have to bring home the first cat. There are thousands of cats in this world, and we need to make sure it’s the right one to fit with our family.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*ping*
“Uh-huh,” she retorted openly, staring at them as Keith drove – and ignored the second heavy sigh from him as she continued. She narrowed her eyes. The girls remained immaculately still, their faces blank masks of innocence. Her maternal radar was screaming.
“We don’t have to pet them all. We don’t have to bring them all home. A cat is a big responsibility, and each of them has a different personality. Some are loving, some want to play, and some do not want to be touched in the slightest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*ping*
“Are you scared?” Keith muttered under his breath in a hushed whisper. “I feel like we’ve got Children of the Corn in the back seat right now and… Ow! Really, honey? I’m on your side,” he grimaced, glancing at her where she’d pinched his side.
Children of the Corn… please , she thought and looked back at the kids – only to see Paige and Kayla both angle their heads to the left in unison, expressions serene.
*ping! ping! ping!*
“I think I owe you an apology,” Constance said warily, glancing at Keith. “This is not normal.”
“No, I know – but we’re not outnumbered.”
“Don’t fall for it,” Constance hissed to the side. “They play to win.”
“Oh gosh…”
“Wait for it…”
“I’m scared,” Keith muttered tightly. “Is that okay to admit?”
“In this case – yes.”
“Mommy? Daddy? We’re not getting a kitten today?” Paige warbled, precariously close to tears. “We’re only looking?”
And Constance heard Keith’s guttteral grunt under his breath as he muttered a four-letter word – and she pinched him again.
“Ow - again?” he retorted, giving her a shocked glance. “I’m still on your side, you know and… oh no . Noooo, there are tears! Why are they crying? What’s with the wobbly lips? Did you make them cry, Constance? Are you pinching my girls, too?”
“Don’t…”
“Don’t you worry, sweeties. We’ll find a little kitty today.”
“Keith…”
“But don’t cry. We’re gonna look and see what we can find.”
“Keith, no…”
“And we’ll pet them all, see which wants to snuggle and…”
Her husband was panicking, folding like a deck of cards. Where was the big brash man on the ice that was so fierce? Where did the grim, frowning, resigned man she married disappear to? She had no idea that the girls would wrap him around their fingers so quickly – and that backbone?
Gone.
He was a wet noodle.
“We’ll bring home two kitties today – one for each of you,” he promised in a loving, mushy, baby voice looking in the rearview mirror.
This time, Constance cussed as she glared at him, giving him a sharp look.
“What? I can’t make them cry!” he exclaimed, horrified. “Did you not see the crocodile tears – and that wobbly lip? That’s my kryptonite. I cannot handle a wobbly lip, honey. It just destroys me.”
“You wuss.”
“Unabashedly.”
“I’m sorry,” Paige said tearfully. “We can just go home. I don’t want you to fight…”
“We’re not fighting,” Keith replied, horrified.
“We are not fighting,” Constance said in complete confusion. They weren’t fighting. They never fought – not even at the very beginning.
“It’s okay,” Paige continued, and Kayla sighed, sniffing loudly, causing Constance to look back over her shoulder at her children.
“See that? What harm does it do?” Keith began as he pulled into the pet adoption center and put the car into park.
“Keith…”
“Look, there’s no difference between one cat or two… and they are upset,” he said emotionally, looking at her. “I don’t want them upset with me, Constance. Not this early in the game. Maybe when they are sixteen or…”
“Look at them,” she interrupted, bluntly. “ Really look at them.”
Keith turned in his seat, looking at both children who practically sprouted angel wings in front of him as they gave him an innocent look, batted their eyelashes, and he sank backward, horrified, and looked at Constance.
“Is that from your genes?”
“Sheesh, really? That’s the question you want to ask right now?”
“I’m scared,” he breathed, giving her a wide-eyed look. “Like really, really scared.”
“Because you fell for it?”
“Yes.”
And the girls snickered in the back seat – as her six-foot-tall husband slunk low in his seat. Constance’s lips twitched as she fought back a smile.
“You have to learn how to say ‘no’. They are working you because you have fallen for it - twice now.”
“Your mom is in charge!” he belted out loudly, not looking away from her.
“That doesn’t fix it, buddy,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You are the parent now, too, and we get to share the load.”
“Good cop, bad cop?” he said hopefully.
“No.”
“Sometimes?”
“No.”
“Once?” he tried again – and Constance couldn’t help it. She chuckled softly as she gazed at the man she adored more than anything else in the world.
“You are terrible.”
“But you love me?”
“I really do,” she admitted and then leaned toward him in the seat – and bless his heart, Keith leaned forward thinking she was about to kiss him. Instead, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, twisting her fist to hold him tight as his eyes shot open wide in shock. “Which is why you get to say ‘no’ when we go inside.”
He cussed under his breath.
“Nope,” she whispered, still holding him close in a threatening position.
“It’s okay, Daddy… we can go home,” Paige volunteered sweetly, her voice so soft, so utterly self-sacrificing, that it struck him harder than any check against the boards ever had.
His eyes widened in sheer, helpless agony. She was giving him an out —which meant she expected him to cave.
“Daddy,” Kayla chimed in. “I wuv you, Daddy.”
“I just got mentally slammed into the boards,” he whispered, his voice full of suffering as he turned to his wife. His fingers curled around Constance’s arm, gripping it like she was his last hope for survival. “Help me?”
Constance barely held back a laugh at the sheer panic in his expression. Her big, tough, brawling hockey husband was crumbling under the tactical warfare of his own children. And honestly? She couldn’t even blame him.
But she could enjoy it.
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “It’s a good thing you are sexy.”
Keith exhaled shakily, as if he were barely holding on to what little shred of dignity he had left. “It’s a good thing you love me,” he murmured, his tone full of tender defeat. He rubbed his nose against hers, clearly seeking strength—because he needed it.
“I’m ill-equipped, and they both know it—don’t they?”
Constance sighed dramatically, dragging out the inevitable truth. “Yeah.”
He blinked as if still processing the sheer power of his stepdaughters wielded over him. “Wow.”
“Terrifying, isn’t it?” she asked, amused by his dazed expression.
“Very much so…” Keith flinched as Kayla piped up again.
“Daddy, I wuv the kitties, too.”
He let out a strangled noise and turned back to Constance with the expression of a man going to war with no armor. He threw up his hands in surrender, smirking. “I’m a wimp—and I freely admit it. My kids are calling for me.”
Constance pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated but not remotely surprised. “Just attempt to be strong and say no at least once today—please?”
Keith grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. He leaned in close, his lips at her ear as he whispered in the smuggest, most insufferable tone possible?—
“No.”
T he moment they stepped into the room, chaos erupted. It was a symphony of squeaks, meows, and the frantic scrabbling of tiny paws as at least a dozen kittens surged toward them like a fluffy tidal wave. The air practically vibrated with the sound of excited purring, and Constance barely had time to blink before her daughters dove headfirst into the kitten pile, squealing with unfiltered joy.
Keith, ever the composed one, had somehow managed to find a rickety folding chair in the corner, but even he wasn’t safe. A gray tabby had scaled his leg like a mountaineer while a calico took up residence on his lap.
He was doomed.
Absolutely, completely doomed.
Yeah.
The ‘big baddie’ was officially a goner.They were taking a kitten home. Or maybe two.
Possibly an entire litter.
“I like this one, Daddy…” Paige announced, holding up a scrappy little kitten with fur that stuck out in all directions like he’d just survived a wind tunnel. The little guy had the biggest, roundest blue eyes Constance had ever seen, and the moment she locked onto them, she knew resistance was futile.
“His name could be LeMieux, like the hockey player…” Paige added, her voice dripping with innocence as she held the kitten up for approval.
Keith’s head snapped up, his expression somewhere between admiration and horror as he turned to Constance, his grin already forming.
“Geez… really?” Constance muttered, looking like she already knew the answer.
“She named the kitten after a hockey player, and it fits,” Keith pointed out, shrugging. “I mean, the kitten is meowing right now.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to get it,” she argued weakly, even as the kitten in question let out an absolutely pitiful, manipulative little mewl.
“I wike this one, Daddy,” Kayla chimed in, her tiny arms wrapped around what could only be described as the most tragic-looking orange kitten in existence. The poor thing looked like it had been through at least three street fights, lost every single one, and still had the audacity to strut around like it owned the place.
“His name is Keith,” Kayla declared with absolute certainty.
Keith let out a bark of laughter, his entire body shaking as he reached for his youngest daughter, pulling both girls into a hug while casting a helpless look at Constance.
“I cannot be the disciplinarian all the time,” he teased, his voice full of reluctant amusement as her mouth dropped open in disbelief.
“You are kidding me,” she hissed, laughing and shaking her head as Keith rose to his feet, moving to her side… and nudged her in front of him like he needed shelter. She laughed even harder as he started to chuckle, sharing a smile in complete awareness of what was happening.
“Maybe this isn’t the ‘ hill we want to die on ,’” Keith admitted, giving her a slow grin as he slid an arm around her waist. His voice dropped lower, conspiratorial. “I mean, what can it hurt—and they named them already.”
“And this one’s name is Gretzky…” Paige announced triumphantly from behind them.
Keith stiffened. His eyes slowly lifted to Constance’s, a realization dawning in them that had her biting back a victorious smirk.
“They played me again, didn’t they?”
“You’ve been checked again, big boy…” Constance murmured, her eyes dancing as she met his beautiful eyes.
“Crap.”
Constance could practically see the last shred of his resistance crumbling to dust. And, because she wasn’t above twisting the knife just a little, she leaned in, her voice sweet as honey.
“So, if there’s no difference between one kitten and two… how about three? Huh, Man of Steel ? How’s that backbone holding up?”
Keith let out a long, slow breath, his expression resigned. “I hate it when you are right.”
“Get used to it,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Now, what are we going to do about it?”
Keith groaned, rubbing a hand down his face like a man who knew he was utterly and completely defeated. “Get three kittens and get the heck out of here before they name a fourth one?” he said helplessly, pointing at the orange cat. “I cannot leave Keith here… and Lemieux is just too perfect. Plus, Gretzky wins every time. I mean, that was a below-the-belt shot from a girl who is just too smart for me.”
Constance grinned. “You’re cleaning the cat litter.”
Keith puffed up his chest, adopting an expression of exaggerated toughness. “It’s a chore we’ll teach the kids.”
Constance simply patted his cheek, giving him a knowing look that said I know better.
“Sure. You keep telling yourself that.”
Keith exhaled, shaking his head. “I love you.”
“I love you too—now can we go?”
“Yes. Before we adopt another furball.”
And with that, the Boucher family grew by three.
T he drive home was a chaotic symphony of frantic meowing from the kittens, their little paws scrambling against the carrier bars as if they were plotting their escape. The kids, in the backseat, were practically beside themselves with their pleas, desperate to free the tiny furballs.
The car was an absolute madhouse.
Constance could feel the tension bubbling up in her chest—her nerves rattling with each pleading cry, her kids’ voices escalating like an out-of-tune orchestra. And then, to her utter shock, Keith did the unthinkable.
"No, girls. The kittens stay in the crate, and we’re doing this a certain way," Keith’s voice came out sharp, cutting through the noise like a knife.
Constance blinked, her head whipping toward him with a raised eyebrow. Keith, usually a soft touch when it came to the kids, had just made a stand, and she couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of what she knew was short-lived admiration. The man was gonna cave as soon as one of the girls blinked at him.
She smirked, silently waiting.
"When we get to the house, they stay in the crates until I get the cat litter pans set up," Keith continued, his jaw set with an air of authority Constance hadn’t quite seen in him before.
"Why?" came the chorus from the backseat, like a single, unified protest.
"Because I said so," Keith replied, his gaze resolute.
The kids groaned in disbelief, and Constance leaned over, giving Keith a sidelong look, her lips curling into a playful smile. "Look at you go, tiger. I’m so proud of you."
Keith rolled his eyes, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "I feel like you’re mocking me," he muttered, clearly trying to play it cool, but the slight blush on his cheeks betrayed him.
"Oh, I absolutely am," Constance laughed, her voice light with mischief. She patted his leg affectionately. "But you’re doing great. They’re working you over, though."
"No, I’m not," Paige shot back from the backseat, her voice slipping into that whiny tone Constance knew so well. The poor girl hadn’t yet realized she was falling back into the trap she always did. And Keith, bless him, was catching on.
"I will turn this car around and take them back if you let them out early,” Keith declared, his voice stern but amused. "And don’t correct your mother. We’re doing this my way, or not at all."
Constance could barely suppress the whistle of appreciation that bubbled up from her chest. She leaned back in her seat, giving him a slow, exaggerated side-eye.
“Bring that tone to bed, mister…”
Keith’s eyes went wide, a laugh bursting out of him as his face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Oh, you stop," he sputtered, still trying to hold onto the facade of authority while blushing like a schoolboy. “The kids are listening, and I’m just—well, I’m trying this out.”
Constance grinned wickedly. "It fits you nicely. Keep it up."
Keith’s laughter rumbled in his chest, his smile wide and infectious. He winked at her, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of affection and mischief.
"You’re dangerous," he teased, and Constance couldn’t help but lean toward him, the playful energy between them crackling in the cramped car as they came to a stop in front of the house.
The kittens continued to meow, the kids pouted, and the chaos of the drive home had felt strangely… perfect. They were adding to their family – in a fashion – and Constance hesitated, watching her husband as he climbed out of the car and admiring the long lines of his body as well as the way he moved.
A sudden thought invaded her mind.
“Let’s carry the kitties inside,” Keith ordered, plucking Kayla out of her booster seat and setting her on her feet, before reaching in to get the carrier. Paige was already out of the car, racing to the other side, and sticking a finger in the carrier as if to say ‘hello.’ As Constance got out of the car, she couldn’t help but watch her family, her mind whirling with awareness as she looked at Keith – only to see him pause as he straightened up, lifting the plastic pans with a bag of cat litter on his shoulder.
The second the kids were out of earshot, having eagerly carried the pet carrier inside like a prized treasure, Constance turned to Keith with an expression so serious it could have halted a freight train.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting together.
“Nothing.”
That earned her a flat, skeptical look. “Constance…”
She inhaled deeply, nerves crackling inside her like static electricity. “Do you want more children?” she blurted out. No preamble, no sugarcoating—just straight to the point. “I mean, we’ve never talked about it, and it just hit me that we’re adding three little furballs to the Boucher family when maybe we should be talking about us—especially after yesterday and the day before.” Her cheeks burned slightly at the implication, but she barreled forward. “I’m not on the pill, and well… things happen.”
His expression didn’t immediately reveal his thoughts, and that made her stomach tighten. He just looked at her—deeply, intently, as if weighing something monumental.
“What do you want to do?”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
He nodded slightly, his tone steady and open. “No, I know. You’re asking me to make a decision about your body—and I won’t do it. Not when we have two perfectly beautiful children waiting on us.”
Her heart did something complicated in her chest—twisting, tumbling—before settling uneasily. “You don’t want one?” she asked, her voice quieter, caught between surprise and something dangerously close to disappointment.
Then, just as swiftly, his expression softened, his lips curving into that smile that had once undone her completely—and still did.
“Constance, I love you. I’m in love with you—and I love your children like my own. If we had a baby someday, I would be happy. But if we didn’t? I’d still feel complete in my heart, mind, and soul,” he said, his voice rich with tenderness. “I’m not the one who has to carry the baby, deal with morning sickness, or give birth. That’s all you. I just get to enjoy making a child—and then raising it, and I’m doing all of those things now.”
She gawked at him, utterly floored. The sheer depth of his understanding, the way he saw her, saw them —it left her momentarily speechless.He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“I never thought I’d have a wife or a family, so asking for more than that just feels strange—like I’m ungrateful when I’m already beyond blessed,” he finished, his deep eyes searching hers. “Does that make sense?”
“And if I wanted another baby someday?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could second-guess them.
“Done,” he replied immediately, shrugging like it was as simple as ordering takeout.
“And if I’m finished having children?”
“Still happy. Still madly in love with you,” he whispered, his gaze holding hers with a certainty that made her breath hitch.
“Awww,” came a voice from the doorway.
Constance was startled, whipping her head around to find Kayla beaming at them while Paige stood beside her, dramatically rolling her eyes and stomping her foot.
“They’re gonna get all kissy again, and LeMieux wants out of the carrier, Daddy,” Paige declared with a huff, her little arms crossed.
Keith chuckled and leaned in, brushing a kiss to the tip of Constance’s nose. “I’m at your disposal, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something intimate and teasing. “Whatever you choose—use me and just keep using me.”
Constance snorted, laughing as she pushed him toward the door. “Go,” she ordered, shaking her head.
He chuckled, stepping into the house with a dramatic flourish. “All right, ladies—and meowies !” he called out, making the kids giggle. “First things first, we’ve got to set up the litter boxes. So let’s put one back here in the laundry room?—”
Paige shot off like a cannon, seizing the plastic tray and bolting away with the determination of a kid on a sugar high.
Kayla hesitated only long enough to watch her sister disappear before grabbing the second box, bouncing on her heels. “Where does this one go?”
Keith nodded toward the hallway. “Let’s put one in your bathroom?—”
Before he could finish, Kayla took off like a tiny Olympian, leaving them in her dust.Constance eyed the last box, then looked at Keith, who had an oddly pained expression.
“Where do you want the other one?” she asked cautiously… and he grimaced.
“Wherever those furballs poop first.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.”
From down the hall, Kayla’s excited voice rang out. “I’m ready, Daddy!”
Paige chimed in just as quickly.
“I’m ready, too!”
Keith exhaled, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for battle. “Guess it’s time for the litter,” he muttered. With a dramatic groan, he hefted the heavy bag onto his shoulder and started down the hallway. “Do you want to bring the carrier so we can put them in the litter right away?”
Constance lifted an eyebrow. “You think that’ll work?”
“I can hope and pray,” he said with a chuckle.
Two minutes later, they set the last litter box near the garage door. Keith sighed in relief—until a very distinct sound of scratching and a squeal of laughter pierced the air.
“Oh no,” Constance murmured.
“Lemieux just went potty, Daddy!” Paige shrieked, bouncing on her feet.Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning.
“Well. That settles that. I’m going to order a steam cleaner online.”
Constance bit her lip, barely containing her laughter. “Looks like that’s where the last litter box goes… and I’ll get something to clean that up.”