19
Knuckles shows up at my front door at just before 7:00 p.m., with his hands full of food and a daughter on each side of him.
“Hello, Celina!” Westley calls out. “You look pretty, is that what you wear to work?”
I glance down at my slacks and button-down blouse. I’d gotten distracted with some work on my laptop when I’d gotten home and hadn’t changed yet. “Yes it is,” I tell her, smiling. “Come on in, guys.”
“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Willow adds, smiling at me. She’s almost my height already, so she’s probably going to tower over me soon.
“ ’Course not, honey,” I tell her, then look to her dad. “At least someone has some manners.”
He grins and bends down to give me a kiss, not caring that his girls see. I don’t mind that they’ve showed up, but a heads-up would have been nice, maybe so I could’ve cooked something for them. He brought what looks like Chinese though, so I can’t complain. My dogs run up to the girls, and they rush to pet them. Even Kobe behaves; he must have remembered them from last time. I lock the door and we all walk into the kitchen, Knuckles putting the food down on the floor and grabbing me in the hallway and pushing me against the wall for another kiss, this one lingering, while the girls are preoccupied with my fur babies.
“How was your day, Kitty?” he asks, and I roll my eyes at the pet name that won’t die.
“It was fine,” I reply, running my fingers through his beard. “I had lunch with Erin; she rode in on her motorcycle. And I’m doing a new story on the high crime rate in the city. How was your day?”
“Not too bad. Had to go to Bravo’s and sort out a few things; we had to hire a few new staff members, and then I built a new bookcase for Willow. She’s always wanted a floor-to-ceiling one, so I got started on that,” he says, scanning my face. “I missed you.”
I blink slowly. “You . . . built a floor-to-ceiling bookcase?”
I think I just came.
Seriously.
The thought of him building a personalized bookcase, preferably shirtless, is the stuff of my dreams. I’m an avid reader—from biographies and nonfiction to romantic novels, I will devour anything within my reach. I’m currently reading a cowboy book by Zada Ryan that has me wanting to ask Knuckles if he wants to do a little role-play. I think though, for all book lovers, having a shelf made just for you is the best thing anyone could do.
“Yeah, why?” He studies me, then grins. “Do you want one? You have plenty of space, I’m sure I could come up with an amazing idea.”
I give him a big hug, cheek against his chest. “I would really like that.”
“I can see that, considering you’re being affectionate.” He presses his lips against my ear. “Does my pussy want some attention too?”
“Okay, too far,” I tell him, laughing. I gently push him off me to go see what the girls are up to.
“See, like a cat!” he calls out from behind me, making me laugh even harder.
He brings the food into the kitchen and puts it on the table. “Hope you’re all hungry; I bought enough food for a small army.”
“I’m starving,” Willow says, standing up and sliding on one of the barstools. “Mom is on some health kick all of a sudden, so there’s only healthy stuff to eat at home. She’s trying to lose some weight.”
Knuckles’s jaw goes tight. “Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll stock it for you. Eating healthy is good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s all about balance, and you’re both perfect and don’t need to worry about any weight-loss shit.”
“I’ll write a list,” Willow beams, pulling out her phone. “Good-bye, kale and breakfast smoothies; hello, bacon. Lots of bacon.”
I cringe at the word kale. Speaking of being healthy, I haven’t been going to the gym as much as I usually do, and I need to get back into that. Although then I won’t be home when Knuckles drops in like this.
“Where do you keep your plates again?” Knuckles asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I point above my stove. “First cupboard.”
He takes out four and places them on the table. “After I did Willow’s bookcase . . .” He looks at me and winks. “And we got in the car, the first thing they asked is when they’re going to get to visit you again, so I decided a spontaneous Chinese night at yours sounded nice.”
“It does sound nice,” I reply, highly amused that I wasn’t even in on this decision. “What were you going to do if I wasn’t home?”
“Call you and tell you to get your ass home?” he says with an innocent shrug. Or at least as innocent as a man like Knuckles can try to be.
“Is your dad always this infuriating?” I ask the girls, looking between them.
Willow nods instantly, swirling around on the stool. “Yeah, pretty much. But if you give him puppy-dog eyes he usually gives in.”
“I’ll remember that for the future,” I tell her, grinning impishly.
“Don’t be giving away my secrets, Willow,” he mock chastises her. “Gotta let her find this shit out for herself.”
Willow rolls her eyes and thrums her fingers on my countertop. “We know how much of a softie you are, Dad. I don’t know why everyone is so scared of you. Some of the parents at school won’t even look in my direction just because they’re scared you will do something to them. It’s so stupid.”
“They don’t even look at you? No one ignores my baby. Tell me who they are,” Knuckles demands, squeezing his fingers on the fork in his hand.
“See, that’s exactly why,” Willow grumbles, reaching down to pat Snape. “Threatening people doesn’t make you very approachable. You should probably tone that down a bit.”
“I like that everyone is scared of Dad,” Westley pipes up from where she’s still on the floor, Kobe in her arms, looking happy as a clam. “Anytime anyone is mean to me I just say that I’m going to tell my dad, in a very calm tone, and they stop it instantly.”
I share a look with Knuckles. “Is your daughter threatening people at school? I wonder where she learned that?”
“I have no idea. Television maybe? Or those books she reads all the time, too much fiction clouding her head,” he replies, the smart-ass. “I think it’s great. I don’t see why anyone should be mean to her in the first place. People have to know that there are consequences for being assholes.”
I decide against saying anything on the topic. These are his kids, and his lifestyle, and if he wants to threaten people, that’s up to him. Instead, I serve myself some food and move to the dining table, all of them joining me.
“I’ve been reading all the articles you’ve written,” Willow admits before she takes a bite. “You’re so good with words, Celina. I hope I can be just as good as that someday.”
“You will be,” I tell her with a smile. “And thank you, Willow. I’m flattered you’re reading what I’ve written, I’m surprised some of the topics don’t bore you.”
“I just read the one you wrote on toxic waste being dumped in the river system, and the one where you were doing a fund-raiser to raise money for the homeless,” she says, talking so animatedly that I can’t help but be enthralled. “You do such nice things, Celina. I want to help people, too.”
“I try,” I say, shrugging. I do a few fund-raisers throughout the year to help different charities. “And we need more people like you who want to help and will go out and do something about it.”
“Mom says there’s no money in helping people,” Westley says, chewing on her lemon chicken. “But Dad says we don’t have to worry about money because he’s made sure we have enough to be princesses!”
Their mom says what?
Jesus, that’s a rough thing to say to your children.
Going by how tight Knuckles’s jaw is again, I can tell he’s not exactly happy about it either, but he doesn’t say anything except, “That’s right, you don’t need to worry about money. Just do whatever will make you happy.”
“Find something you’re passionate about,” I add, finally lifting my fork to my lips. “Then it won’t feel like work.”
“Does it feel like work when you go in?” Willow asks me, and when I think of dealing with Tim and Robert I think yes, but I actually love the rest of what I do in my job. The writing, the interviews, working with photographers, I love all of that. I love seeing my name on my finished work, and I love it when it all comes together. This is my passion, and none of those dickheads are going to take it away from me.
“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “It doesn’t.”
She beams while Westley announces, “I think I want to be a dog walker when I grow up.”
We all share a grin.
As we finish dinner, I watch them interact and just enjoy being around them.
Knuckles has raised some really great kids, and I think it speaks wonders about who he is as a man.
I’d never admit it out loud, but it’s a little sad he’s not going to be able to have any more, but it’s not a deal breaker for me.
We all clean up, and then Knuckles heads home with the girls, but not before a deep, hungry kiss that leaves me wanting more.
I’ll have to wait, but lucky, I’m patient.