Zander
thirty-five
Walking up to Harlowe’s door tonight feels like I’m beginning again.
Not just walking away from who I was in the past, but piling up all the shitty pieces—the fuckboy who slips into DMs, the guy who was afraid of attachments, the douche who didn't do repeats, the hothead who wants to blame others, the man who would rather break the heart of the woman he loves than change his life for her—and setting them all on fire so I can never become that person again.
Each step toward her house feels lighter as I let them go and look forward to the man I want to be. A man of my word. A man who shows up, who sticks around, who has some fucking integrity and knows what’s important in this world. I know, now. God, I fucking know.
I set my bag down and ring the bell, shifting the bouquet in my hands as I wait for the door to open.
It’s about time I do this the right way.
No you up calls or texts in the middle of the night.
No showing up and expecting to be let in with selfish intent.
I’m bringing the fucking romance, because that is what my little Wildcat deserves.
The best of me, and the best in this life.
“Hi, sorry I’m a mess. I’ve been cooking for hours,” Harlowe says, opening the door. “Oh!” She covers her mouth when she sees the giant bouquet of tropical flowers.
I made sure it was full of flowers we saw in the Maldives; orchids, plumerias, birds of paradise, and more I can't even name. They’re pretty, but she puts them all to shame with how fucking gorgeous she is.
Her cheeks are flushed, caramel skin glowing.
Her dark hair is wavy and loose around her shoulders and I want to thread my fingers into the soft locks right at the nape of her neck and pull it tight as I drive my cock deep inside of her and fill her with my cum, making more of our pretty little babies.
“Hey, Lowe,” my voice is a low purr that pours in from the dark. “You look amazing. These are for you.” I hold out the flowers.
She takes them as she steps back from the door and lets me in, shaking her head and smiling radiantly. “Flowers and compliments? What is this, a date?”
I pick up my bag and follow her in, shutting the door behind me.
“Fuck yes, it is. I’m going to date you every chance I get.
Each day I get with you is going to be special.
I squandered the last five years I could’ve had you in my arms. There’s no way in hell I’m wasting another one thinking it’s ordinary if I get to have you in it. ”
“Language,” she admonishes quietly, nodding her head toward the living room. “We have little ears listening, and he’s a sponge that happens to like repeating what he hears.”
She leads us toward the kitchen, and I feel like an asshole. Of course, the first thing I do is wrong. I look into the living room as we pass and see Hendricks on the floor in the middle of a pile of Legos and toys, thankfully absorbed in his creations and oblivious to us.
“I’m already messing up this father thing.
I’m sorry, Lowe.” I keep my voice quiet but I can't keep the note of panic from creeping into it.
I can close multi-million-dollar deals, speak to international business associates with authority, and schmooze literal kings and heads of state with ease, but I don't know what to do with a four-year-old kid.
She laughs. “Don’t look so horrified. I slip up occasionally, too. You’ll get used to it. I don't expect you to jump right in and know what to do.” I feel a bit of relief wash over me, but I’m going to do better. No swearing when my kid can hear.
Harlowe bends down and opens a cabinet, pulling out a vase for the bouquet. I set my bag down by the island before I come up behind her as she fills it with water and circle my arms around her waist.
“It smells amazing in here, but you smell even better.” I run my nose along her neck, inhaling her coconut and floral scent, and she shivers against me.
“Fuck, I missed you today,” I whisper, quiet enough so Hendricks is sure not to hear.
My hands slip under the hem of her shirt, finding her soft skin and stroking gently. She sighs and leans back against me.
The oven timer goes off, the beeping startling us both and we jump apart like scolded teens. I laugh and she spins to turn it off, grabbing oven mitts off the counter.
“You should say hi to Hendricks before we get carried away in here. He was asking about you today. I told him you would be coming over more and I really like you.” She pulls a bubbling dish of lasagna out of the oven and sets it on the island to cool.
She turns back to me and arches an eyebrow.
“The observant little nugget said it was because you two have matching eyes and that's why I like you.” She looks up at me with a rare shy look and I want to take her chin in my hand and kiss it off her face. “I… told him you’re his father.” She looks at me, seeking approval, and I do take her face now, holding her with the reverence she deserves for this act of benevolence.
“Thank you, baby. That means everything to me.”
She turns her face into my hand and kisses my palm before she pulls away and smiles. “He wants to have a sleepover now and thinks if I make you chocolate chip pancakes you’ll never leave.”
I feel a smile taking over my face and bet it looks cocky as hell.
“He’s right. You feed me and I’m sticking around for good.
” I pull her back into my arms and kiss her hard, taking a handful of her delicious ass in the exchange for good measure before I set her back on her feet and turn toward the living room.
“Hey, Boss, I heard you were asking about me.”
“Zan man!” Hendricks shouts, leaping up from his toys and sprinting across the room.
He launches his little body into my outstretched arms. I catch him, bringing him close, and hug him tight like this is our normal greeting, not the second time we have seen each other.
I close my eyes and bury my nose in Hendricks’s curls, breathing in the smell of my son and cataloging it away for later.
This is the same greeting Harlowe received the last time I was here, the one I was so jealous of.
Fuck, it feels good to have the boy in my arms, welcoming me in the same way, and I feel the unfamiliar sting of tears hit me. Am I going to break down over this?
“I missed you, buddy,” I say as I sit down with Hendricks still in my arms, not ready to let him go. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to play earlier; I was busy at work. I changed my schedule so that won’t happen too much anymore, and I’ll have lots of time to play now. Sound good?”
Hendricks nods, his eyes sparkling. “Mama says our eyes match and I’m smart like you because you’re my daddy.” He holds his hand up to his mouth and leans toward my ear. “Can you tell me if you have powers like a superhero? I’ll keep your secrets, I promise.”
Hearing him call me daddy does something stupid to me inside that I have to laugh to cover as I look at his eager face.
“My only power is negotiating business deals, and while that’s super handy for work, I can’t fight crime, and I don’t have any special abilities like Thor or Iron Man.
But maybe I have the power to make your mama fall in love with me. Do you think I can do that?”
I look over my shoulder toward the kitchen and catch Harlowe looking away from us quickly, pretending to be busy with the vegetable dish she’s preparing. Hendricks sits up taller and looks with me.
“I can help. Mama loves me, so it’ll be easy. Is that your bag? Are we having a sleepover tonight?”
He bounces on my knees in excitement and my chest goes molten, my pulse surging in a way that feels better than anything I’ve felt in a long time. This kid can take me higher than skydiving, just like his mama can. I may give up chasing the adrenaline rush with these two permanently in my life now.
“Yeah, buddy, I’m staying forever. Now, why don't we put some work in on these tracks and towers before dinner so we can get a run in?”
Hendricks insists on sitting on my lap to eat, wanting Harlowe next to us.
It’s not exactly easy to eat around a squirming four-year-old, but I can’t deny him.
While I wait for him to finish eating before I begin, I hold Harlowe’s hand on the table, and when Hendricks places his little hand on top of the pile, Harlowe snaps a photo with her phone.
When I give her a questioning look, she turns her phone around and shows me an Instagram post on her Foulmouthed Foodie page of all three of our hands together in focus with the lasagna in the background that she captioned Family Dinner feels good, even if it took five years to get it on the table.
My chest expands with pride that she would claim me so publicly, and I want to pull out my own phone and share that everywhere, as well.
I want to delete every photo I have and make that the only one on my feed, my profile picture, my everything.
I’ve already closed my DMs to anyone I’m not following, scrubbed out all the thots and models and women who had dropped into them over the years, and removed the temptations that don’t even get a rise out of me anymore.
Not when I can look over at Harlowe and see my whole world in her eyes.
After dinner, Harlowe lets me help with bath and bedtime, bringing me into their nightly routine and showing me what I’ve been missing all these years.
My heart aches with a fierceness at each new piece I get to experience, and when Hendricks looks up at me from his bed, his eyes that do indeed match mine, already looking sleepy, and tells me he loves me, I fucking shatter.
I kiss his forehead and walk out of the room to wait for Harlowe to finish up with him.