Chapter 20
The scent of garlic and melted cheese hung in the air in Remi’s kitchen and was enough to make Tyrone’s stomach growl. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, watching Kelsey dig her fork into the lasagna like she was excavating for buried treasure.
Jules, ever the miniature version of her father, had already demolished half her plate and was eyeing Kelsey’s with the focus of a sniper locking onto a target.
“Easy there, piccola assassina.” Levi nudged his daughter’s plate closer to her own side of the table. “Finish yours before you start plotting heists on hers.”
Little assassin was an awesome name for any one of these three kiddos. All they had to do was glance at you with a wobbling bottom lip, and Tyrone knew he’d be taken out at the knees to stop the first tear before it fell.
Jules pouted but stabbed another piece of pasta with exaggerated precision. “It’s good, Daddy.”
“Yeah, well, so’s not getting grounded before dessert.” Levi shot Tyrone a look. “You ever think we’d be the guys babysitting while our women got shitfaced in the main house?”
Tyrone exhaled through his nose, something dangerously close to a laugh. “No, and I definitely didn’t think I’d be the one making sure mini girls don’t wear lasagna like a fu—freaking hat.”
Remi slid a beer across the counter toward him. “Speak for yourself. I always knew I’d be the responsible one.”
Levi barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his own sip. “You? Responsible?” He mimed zipping his lips. “Oh wait, that’s right. You’re Zipper. Responsible is part of your DNA.”
Kelsey giggled, her fork clattering against her plate. “Uncle Remi’s not responsible. He let me stay up late last time.”
Remi pointed at her, mock-serious. “That was a one-time intelligence briefing. You were my consultant.”
“On cartoon bad guys,” Levi deadpanned.
“Hey, SpongeBob’s got layers. You ever analyze Plankton’s psychological profile? Dude’s got issues.”
Tyrone shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
This—this was the part he hadn’t expected.
The easy rhythm of how this babysitting lark was going.
He’d expected to feel like an impostor around Kelsey or that he was stealing something that wasn’t his to take.
But sitting here, with Remi’s smartass commentary and Levi’s dry humor and the way the three little girls passed bites under the table like they were covert ops, it just… fit.
“We’re done,” Jules announced. “We must go draw.” As one, all three scrambled off their chairs and trotted off to where a child-sized desk was filled with crayons and paper.
“Jeez, they’re messier than a hog farm.” Tyrone grabbed a plate and scraped what remained on it into the trash.
“It’s like feeding time at the zoo, most days,” Levi agreed. “Just you wait until one of them wants to hug you while they’re covered in questionable gunk.”
“And saying no would make them cry,” Remi added. “Last thing you ever wanna do, Rone, is make one of them cry.”
“No tears, got it.” If any of the people he’d worked with before joining the Four X’s could see him now, they’d be asking the closest mothership to come get their alien and send their medic back.
Ember suddenly piped up. “Uncle Rone?”
He turned, automatically scanning for something wrong before realizing she was just holding up a drawing of stick-figures all grinning under a lopsided sun. “That’s…” crap, he hoped he didn’t guess wrong, “That’s us?”
She was dead serious as she nodded. “You’re the biggest.”
Levi snorted. “Accurate.”
Remi leaned in, squinting. “Wait, is that a stethoscope or a whip?”
Ember rolled her eyes as only a three-year-old could. “Uh-huh. It’s a tet-a-cope. Uncle Rone fixes ouchies.”
Tyrone’s chest tightened. He reached out and tapped the paper. “It’s awesome. Can I keep it and hang it on the fridge?”
Kelsey, not to be outdone, shoved her own drawing across the table—a chaotic battle scene with what looked like a dragon, a robot, and a very confused-looking stick figure labeled ZORRO. “You’re the hero.”
Not so sure about that, kiddo.
Levi raised his bottle in salute. “No argument here.”
Remi clinked his against it. “Man’s got a brand.”
Tyrone exhaled. He’d spent so long assuming he’d fuck this up, that he’d look at Kelsey and see Dwight’s ghost instead of her.
But right now, with sauce smeared on her cheek and her hair in two lopsided braids, all he saw was her.
A kid who’d been through hell and still knew how to laugh.
A kid who, for some goddamn reason, thought he was the hero.
He wasn’t. But maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be. Maybe it was enough to just… be here.
“Yours is going on the fridge too, Princess.”
He knew he’d made a mistake of epic proportions when all three pairs of the little girls’ eyes widened.
What did I do?
Retreat.
Wind back the clock.
I’m a fucking idiot.
“I wanna be princess,” Ember announced, and raced across the room to a wooden chest. Its hinges groaned as she flipped it open.
A riot of color spilled out. Silks and taffetas, sequins catching the light like scattered stars.
Crowns glinted, tiaras winked, and a tangled mess of necklaces slithered over the edges.
“Whoa,” Kelsey breathed, already diving in. She yanked out a sapphire-blue gown, holding it up against herself. “I’m gonna be a queen.”
Jules, never one to be outdone, grabbed a gold crown and jammed it onto her curls. “I’m the sun queen.”
Ember grabbed a box and dumped it out on the floor. “We need lipstick. The red one.”
“That’s an awesome dress-up box, Zipper.” Levi watched his daughter with a massive, indulgent smile on his face. “Where did you get it? I’ll get one in a different color for Jules.”
Tyrone wondered if Kelsey would like one, too, and listened with interest to see where the treasure box came from.
Remi leaned back in his chair, beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
“That was my dad’s doing. He said every little girl needed a treasure box, so he made it for Ember’s first birthday.
” His voice went rough around the edges, just for a second.
“That old man had no idea what he was starting. I’d ream him a new one, except that would result in a delivery of more dress-up shit by noon the following day.
” He waved his hand in the direction of the girls. “We’ve got enough dress-up shit.”
Levi took a pull from his own bottle, watching his daughter smear glitter across her cheeks. “Damn straight.”
Tyrone stayed quiet, but his fingers tightened around the neck of his beer.
The scene in front of him was so normal it made his chest ache.
The three kids were lost in a world of dress-up.
This kind of shit was something he’d never let himself imagine wanting.
But now? Now that it was right here in front of him, he recognized the painful spot where his heart was as a weird mix of grief because Dwight wasn’t here to see his daughter having the time of her life, awe because he was the one here to witness it, along with a healthy dose of guilt because he was the one here and Dwight wasn’t.
Kelsey wriggled into the blue dress, the hem pooling around her feet. “Uncle Zorro, zip me!”
He nearly choked on his swallow of beer.
“Uh. Yeah.” Setting his bottle down, he knelt behind her, his fingers fumbling with the tiny zipper.
“There. You’re…” He cleared his throat, trying to figure out what the right word she needed was.
It took him a hot second, but he got there in the end. “Regal.”
She spun in a circle, the skirt flaring, and curtsied so deeply she nearly toppled over. “Thank you, noble steed.”
I’m pretty sure she just called me a horse.
Levi snorted. “Pretty sure that’s not how knighthood works.”
“Shut up, peasant,” Remi shot back, tossing a plastic tiara at him. Levi caught it one-handed and plopped it onto his own head, striking a pose. “Behold. King Levi the Magnificent.”
Jules clapped her hands. “Daddy’s a king!”
“Damn right.” He adjusted the tiara, completely unselfconscious. “And what’s my queen’s decree?”
Ember, now sporting a silver circlet and smudged pink lipstick, pointed at Tyrone. “He has to be a prince.”
Shit, I’ll take being the horse over the fuckery Zipper and Nemo are gonna give me for this.
He froze mid-sip. “What?”
Kelsey nodded, dead serious. “You have to. There’s rules.”
Rules?
What fucking rules?
You’re six. How the hell do you know about royal rules?
“Yeah, royal rules,” Jules parroted, crossing her arms.
All he could do was blink, and he was pretty damn sure he was doing an epic impression of the fish Levi was nicknamed after.
Remi grinned and crossed the room to dig into the chest. “Lucky for you, Prince Tyrone, we’ve got a spare crown.” He pulled out a gaudy gold thing with fake jewels and held it out.
Fuck me sideways.
Tyrone stared at it like it was a live grenade. “I am not wearing that.”
“Please, Uncle Zorro,” Kelsey wheedled, grabbing his hand. “Pleeease?”
He already knew he was screwed, and giving in was inevitable. How could he say no to her when she was bouncing on her toes with excitement and calling him Uncle Zorro?
Levi’s voice cut through the stalemate. “You know the rules, bro. Never leave a damsel in distress.”
“Oh, I’ve got one to add to it.” Remi smirked. “Never disappoint a princess.”
Bastards!
Fucking! Bastards!
It didn’t take a genius to know he was defeated, and he exhaled through his nose. “This is blackmail.”
“Yep.” Remi, the fucker, plopped the crown onto his head before he could protest.
I’m gonna fuck with every single one of his computers, just for shits and giggles.
Kelsey squealed. “You look pretty.”
Jules shook her head. “My daddy is prettier.”
How the hell did he respond to that? The only saving grace of being in this mess was that the two men who could tease the shit out of him were both wearing crowns on their heads too.
“Me no gots a sword.” Ember tilted her head as she looked at the dress-up box. “Daddy, we has sword?”