49. Knox

I wasat Larkin’s place rolling a ball across the floor with the kids while she made supper when her phone rang. I watched from the living room as her expression pinched at the name on the screen.

“Who is it?” I asked.

She glanced at me, saying, “Ancy-nay.”

I chuckled at her use of Pig Latin. “Ice-nay.”

Emily gave me a weird look over the big inflatable bouncy ball. “The ice is in the freezer, Knox.”

She’d only been in kindergarten for a short while, but she’d already grown up so much and was speaking in longer sentences. That sass would always be there, though, just like her mama. She rolled the ball over to me.

Larkin brought her phone to her ear, offering a tentative, “Hello?” Leaning back against the counter, she had her arm over her chest. “I see.”

Oof. “I see” was never a good thing in mom speak.

“So, you refused to watch them and now you want to visit them?” she asked.

I hid a wince as I rolled the ball back to Jackson. I didn’t want them to glom on to Larkin while she tried to have a conversation because they sensed something wrong from me.

“Of course I’ll let you see them,” Larkin said. Her voice was firm as she added, “However, it will be at my house. You’re all welcome to come over for supper this weekend.”

Now my eyebrows rose, but I kept my gaze down on the blue and white marbled bouncy ball rolling my way. You’re all welcome? I wondered to myself, Did that mean what I thought it meant?

“One moment,” she said, then she waved me over while holding the phone to her chest. “Can you be here for dinner Sunday after the game?” she whispered. “The andparents-gray and eth-Say want to come over for dinner.”

Concern knit my brows together. “Are you sure you want them all here?” I whispered back. “We could do it at my place.”

“We?” she asked, a small smile playing along her lips.

“You know it’s you and me, babe.”

She gave me a thankful half-smile, then drew the phone back to her ear. “Knox will be here. It will be a great chance for everyone to bond.” She went back around the corner, and I could hear the spatula over the pan as she stirred dinner.

“You two play,” I said to Em and Jackson, then went to Larkin, hugging her from behind and dropping a kiss on the cheek opposite her phone.

“Yes, he will be here. This is my home,” she said.

Damn straight. I was proud of her for standing up for herself. She’d walked on eggshells with them before, not wanting to lose her childcare. But now that she was covered, she had no reason to accept less respect than she deserved.

“Great. We’ll see you Sunday at seven.” She hung up and leaned back into my chest.

It was the best feeling, having her lean on me. Then she turned, wrapping her arms around my neck and placing a kiss on my lips. “Have I mentioned how incredible you are?” she asked.

I nuzzled my nose against her. “Never hurts to hear it.”

Her lips tilted into a smile. “You. Are amazing, Knox Madigan.” She kissed me again for a moment before a little voice interrupted, saying, “What are you doing?” We broke apart, seeing Emily staring at us. “Were you kissing forever?” she asked exasperatedly.

Larkin said, “Not forever. I have to breathe sometime.”

I laughed at her quick response and then said to Emily, “Looks like dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go wash up.”

She walked with me, and I scooped Jackson in my arms, even though he was officially in the phase where he hated being held. He didn’t fight me too much as we walked to the bathroom and I helped him onto the counter to wash hands.

And in true Larkin fashion, I came up with a song on the spot while the three of us cleaned up.

Because I’m washing.

Wash your hands if you feel

Like a kid who’s extra clean!

Wash your hands if you feel

Like germy germs are the worst.

Wash your hands if you know

That cleanliness is the truth.

Wash along if you feel like

You’re ready for some food.

Because we’re washing.

Because we’re washing.

The kids giggled at my silly lyrics, and I saw us all in the bathroom mirror, thinking to myself that this is what I loved. These kids, this woman, this home... this family. It didn’t matter how it came to be because I knew what it was now: mine.