Chapter 3

3

Rimmel

After breakfast was cleaned up, I shut myself in the bathroom for a much-needed shower. Between the dog drool, my extracurricular activities with Romeo this morning, and then cooking up a storm in the kitchen, I was less than fresh.

I loved it, though. Having such a big, rambunctious family was literally a dream come true. This weekend felt a little extra special because Romeo was home. Now that the season was really in full swing, I knew his time off would be much less.

After a thorough wash, I stepped out of the steamy shower with a towel wrapped around my body and worked some leave-in conditioner through my damp strands. My hair wasn’t as long as it used to be. With three kids and the animal shelter, it was too much to fight with, and I’d had it cut to a length just below my shoulders. It was still long enough to pull up but required a lot less brushing.

After getting it detangled and smoothing on my skin care, I padded into the closet off the bathroom and switched on the light.

Romeo’s Alpha U hoodie was covered in flour and pancake batter from earlier, so that was out. Even after ten years, it was still my favorite thing to wear. It was a little worn these days and maybe had a hole or two, but I didn’t care. I loved that hoodie and planned to wear until it disintegrated right off my body.

I glanced at the purple Knights hoodie with his name on the back but decided to try wearing something a little different since we had two games later. I found that wearing my husband’s name to the kids’ football or even school events got a lot of mixed reactions. Some people would fall over themselves to be overly nice and accommodating while others made snide comments and drilled dirty looks into the back of my head.

FYI, dirty looks could be felt. Frankly, they gave me a headache.

It was the price we paid for “fame,” even if we did live on the other side of the state from the Knights home base. When the boys started school, we’d been faced with the decision of putting them in private or letting them go to the same public school Romeo and Braeden had gone to.

In the end, we figured it probably wouldn’t be much different either place because everyone knew Romeo and Braeden. Romeo and I would still be the “royal” couple of the NFL no matter what school they attended. So we chose the public school.

Overall, it seemed a good choice. We wanted the boys to have as much of a normal upbringing as possible and tried to keep them out of the spotlight and in a regular routine. Yes, our house was hidden behind a wall and gate, but we still did playdates and encouraged them to join clubs and play sports.

There had been a handful of times people wanted to do playdates with them when they were small just so they could get an invite to the compound and see behind the walls. One bad experience with Nova was all it took, and we decided play dates would have to be held elsewhere.

After pulling on a pair of loose-fit jeans and some socks, I reached for a snug, white long-sleeved T-shirt. I was partway through drying my hair when London skipped into the bathroom, Betty still clutched in her arms. Instead of pajamas, she was wearing a pair of blue overalls, a shirt with stars all over it beneath it.

“Murphy,” she called, going to the corner where my one-eyed black cat lay in a fluffy bed. After the arrival of our three children and numerous dogs, he started hanging out in our bathroom and master closet when he needed some peace and quiet, so I’d moved in a bed for him.

He was roughly thirteen now, but he was still healthy and enjoying life. He still sauntered into the kitchen every morning for his treats and curled up in my lap when I read.

London laid her bunny in the bed with Murphy and plopped down beside him to pet his head. His one eye blinked up at her, and his tail swished. The running hairdryer muffled my laugh as I watched him resign himself to having his nap interrupted.

After petting him, London moved her bunny closer, laying it right up against his black fur. Murphy laid his head back down and closed his eye. Seconds later, London was bounding out of the bathroom only to return a moment later with a small blanket.

I shut off the dryer and set it aside, watching her through the mirror as she covered her cat and bunny.

“Was he cold?” I asked.

“He’s old. He needs extra cover on his bones.”

I laughed. “Well, he seems to like it,” I observed, noting his excessively loud purring.

“He sounds like Uncle Drew’s fastback,” London said, patting his back.

“I think you’re right,” I said. “Want me to braid your hair?”

“Sure,” she said, leaving Betty with Murphy and coming over to where I stood at the counter.

I lifted her, groaning like she was too heavy, and sat her on the counter. She scooted back and turned so she was facing the mirror, tucking her feet beneath her.

“Combing your hair is a lot of work,” she said seriously.

I nodded. “You’re right it is.”

I began working the brush through her tangled strands. Her dark hair went partway down her back. “Are the boys outside playing football?”

She nodded. “Andi too.” Her little nose wrinkled. “I don’t want to play football.”

Poor Romeo. From the day she was born, he’d hoped his daughter would get his athleticism, but the only things she’d gotten from him were her blue eyes and charm. The rest of her was all me.

“You can do whatever you want to do,” I told her. “Be whatever you want.”

“I want to color!”

“Hold still first so I can finish your hair.”

“It’s taking too long.”

I laughed and quickly finished up the single braid and tied it with a blue tie. “Ta-da!”

“Thanks, Mom!”

She went to jump off the counter, but I caught her. “Be careful.”

“I have nine lives like Murphy.”

“Better not tell your daddy that.”

She ran for the door.

“What about Betty?” I called after her.

“She’s hanging with Murphy.”

I glanced at the cat, and he turned his one eye toward me. I bent down to stroke his soft fur. “Good boy, Murph. You’re a patient one.”

He purred loudly, and I smiled.

Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Footsteps pounding on the stairs had me going through the bedroom.

“Blue,” Romeo called as a little blond-headed blur rushed past me.

“Blue-Jay?”

My son didn’t answer as he rushed into his bedroom and slammed the door.

I blinked and started after him, but a gentle hand curled around my wrist, stopping me. I turned back. “Romeo?”

“Let me,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Let me,” he repeated.

I nodded. If Romeo wanted to talk to his son, then I would never get in his way. He was a good father, and our kids were insanely lucky to have him.

“Go,” I said softly, stepping back so he could get by.

Romeo moved past but then stopped, reaching back to pull me into his side. “Love you, smalls.”

I smiled. “Love you too,” I whispered. “Now go talk to Blue.”

He pecked a kiss on my forehead and then went swiftly to the door, knocking softly. “It’s Dad. Can I come in?”

“Go away!”

Romeo turned the knob and pushed open the door. “You know I can’t do that.” And then he stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him.