Mills comes to stand in front of me and holds out his arms before wiggling his fingers. “Come to Uncle Mills,” he sing-songs. “I know you missed me.”
“He didn’t,” I retort. “And fuck off.”
“The possessive father doesn’t trump the uncle, Bish. Keep up, old man.”
“I’m thirty-three.” Mills makes an exaggerated smile like he doesn’t want to break my heart and confess that it’s the new eighty. “And you’re bugging me, get fucked.”
Mills slowly glances over at Emmy going through her phone and my heel comes up to strike him right in the shin.
“Fuck,” he roars, hopping on his good leg.
“What happened?” Emmy strides over to the both of us and we both reply with “nothing”.
She steers her gaze back and forth, clearly aware we’re not gonna rat the other out for childish shit, and goes back to where she came.
“How is she?” Emmy’s fake baby daddy mutters before plopping down next to me on the couch.
“Shitty. Sometimes I think she’s about to break but she always holds on.”
“The kids.“ Mills pulls out his cell to make it look like we’re not talking about anything serious—I never said he was stupid—and mindlessly plays Candy Crush. “She’s afraid that she’s going to let the kids down.”
“Should we let her do this? Should we just handle this ourselves? I don’t know what’s right anymore.”
“She’d be pissed but she’d obviously get over it. She might need the closure though.”
I watch Emmy pour herself a glass of lemonade. “Killing the parent of her—“
“That ship sailed a long time ago,” Mills retorts. “I was there when she named them. How effortlessly it was. She named that kid in your arms after the love of her life. The father of her children. Fuck a DNA test.”
“We can’t hide that forever.” I squeeze Alaric closer to me, fear of him hating me down the road a definite possibility in the grand scheme of things.
What do I do, wait for him to be eighteen and spring it on him? Do we wait for him to ask? Do we tell him he died or that we really did murder him because the latter is fucked up and then what will he think of me?
“If my dad tried to kill my mom, I’d fucking hate him. There would be no thinking about it for me. Just don’t be a dick.”
“Nah, I save that just for you.”
“Lucky me, and I don’t even get off on it.” Mills kicks his leg over his knee. “So we’re in agreement to trust her?”
I shake my head. “I don’t trust her not to break but I trust her anger.”
I went to go pick up food while Emmy took a shower and got into her pajamas. I don’t know why she’d bother, I’m just going to tear them into shreds anyway.
She teased me enough at Mills’s, sat in my lap while Kyson came over and read over Alexander’s will, and purposely grinded on my hard dick.
I didn’t want to grab food, but she told me she was starving again and who am I to tell her no when she wants something.
Especially if it’s me and my last name that she wants to take. And I had Armageddon to protect her when I was gone.
Unlocking the deadbolts to her apartment door in the middle of a shithole, I place the bags on her kitchen counter and pull down two plates, cups, and grab some forks.
“Ems, I’m back,” I call out, setting us up in front of the flat-screen TV that sits on a shitty ass stand. It’d take a single hard stomp on the floor to get that thing to tumble over.
“Be right out,” Emmy calls back.
My impatient ass just can not wait, and when I step inside her one-bedroom, she’s pulling a shirt over her head and only standing in black lace panties.
But it’s not the lace or the shirt that barely covers her whole torso but the hair that makes me gape at her like a virgin who just saw his first pair of tits.
No, it’s the beautiful whitish-blonde locks that now cup her sweet features.
My Emmy.
How she looked before all this shit happened. The affectionate and addicting Emmy Lou Rhodes—soon to be Bishop, which the timeline on that just went up.
Her full lips lift in a smile. “Hey.”
“You dyed your hair.”
Her lips grow wider. “Yeah.”
I abolish all the space between us and hike her frame up to mine. She habitually wraps her legs around my middle, and everything just feels more like us.
“You like?” A rumble of approval buzzes from my chest, and Emmy cups my face with her small hands. “It was just hair.”
“I don’t know, the dark hair fucked me up a little like I was screwing a lookalike of your or some shit.”
Her mouth twitches. “Damn, was she good?”
“She teased a lot.”
Emmy encases her arms around my neck and comes in dangerously close to my mouth. “What a bitch.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She had her perks.”
“Yeah?” Her brown eyes skate to my lips. “Did she kiss better than me?” I shake my head to her ridiculous question that I’m playing stupidly along with. “Did you eat her pussy?”
“Emmy,” I warn. “Shut up.”
She undoes her legs from me and I place her back down to stand.
Bending over, she takes her panties and pushes them down. Then rounding my body, she swipes something off her dresser and begins to leave the room.
“Follow me,” she chimes, awarding me with a glorious view of her naked ass as she strides inside the kitchen and family room.
She props herself up on one of the stools and turns around, gazing at me with those big browns and soft skin.
Opening her legs, she invites me in to step closer and—let’s be real—I’m not gonna turn that down.
“Are we eating naked, Emmy?” She doesn’t respond, pushing herself up her stool to stand on it so she can sit on the kitchen counter. “Or
