Kat

Twangy country music blares through the speakers as I restlessly bounce in the passenger seat of the Suburban, anxious to get to the cabin. I need to see my kids. We just dropped Vanessa and Ryker off at her trailer to settle in, after a rather surreal drive where I spent nearly half of it in Ryker’s lap. He was sweet and comforting. Attentive, like when we were together. It was oddly nostalgic.

Ekkk! There. There it is! Ryker’s place. Hidden in the woods on the outskirts of Red Fort. Do you see it? It’s just as exquisite as I remember. Between the dense trees rests a dark stained single-story cabin. The two-toned shutters and porch swing give it a storybook gingerbread charm. Ain’t it adorable in every sense of the word? I can’t wait to see what it looks like on the inside. If the outside is anything to go by, it’s gonna be epic.

Turning into the narrow gravel drive, Kade navigates us around the squat building to the rear. Talking beside a jacked up pickup truck is my dad, Bear, and my girls. Happiness flutters in my middle at the sight of my family safe and sound.

Clapping my hands animatedly, I squeal, “They’re here. They’re here!”

No sooner does Kade brake, I throw open the passenger door and hop out. Roxie and Scarlett scream in excitement and fly at me with flailing arms and bright smiles. We meet in the middle of the vehicles, and I brace for impact as two happy kids slam into me, mindful of my belly. Simultaneously, I wrap my arms around their necks. Then we’re hugging and kissing like three crazy people who act as if they haven’t seen each other in decades.

“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you,” I chant between loud smooches on their foreheads, cheeks, wherever I can land. My face aches from grinning so flippin’ big, stitches be damned. Jubilant tears prick my eyes.

“We missed you, too! But we’ve been having so much fun!” Roxie vibrates with excitement. I’m never letting these little chickens go. Never ever again. Nope. Nada. I’ll die first.

An ocean of love swells in my chest. God. I missed them. It wasn’t all that long, and, still, after that drive, it seems like ages.

“Grandpa took us for ice cream. And we got to watch Titanic for the first time last night,” Scarlett singsongs with gusto, rubbing her baby sis.

I freeze.

Grandpa?

Grand-pa.

What?

How did this happen?

My mind reels with the news. What were they thinking?

Clenching my jaw, careful not to grind my teeth, I slowly lift my gaze to Dad and Bear, who’re standing with Kade beside the truck, watching us. Dad tucks his tatted hands in his back jean pockets and cracks a guilty half smile. He hunches into himself as if his shoulders weigh a ton. A strand of gray hair falls onto his forehead.

I can’t believe he told them. And, let them watch Titanic. They’re not old enough for that movie. It has a boob scene, and another that implies steamy sex. I do not approve.

My eyes narrow into tiny slits.

Bear raises both hands in surrender. “It’s not what you think,” he placates.

Sure it’s not.

Roxie notices my abrupt change in mood. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” she asks, assessing my face before looking at the men. Smart girl, she’s feeling the energy out. It’s thick with tension. I’m gonna knock their blocks off for this.

“I’m fine,” I lie, patting both her and Scarlett’s shoulders in reassurance. No need to make a scene in front of the kiddos. Even though Scarlett’s too busy cooing at her baby sister to notice what’s happening.

“Grandpa didn’t do anything wrong,” Roxie defends.

“He didn’t,” Bear agrees, palms still up.

Dad stares at his worn boots, kicking up dust as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world. If that’s not an admission of wrongdoing then I don’t know what is.

Kade frowns at me, accentuating the lines around his eyes. Guess he’s not supporting my stance on this. Too bad. I’m the mom.

Addressing Roxie, I ask, “Care to explain, sweetie?”

“Ghost won’t tell us. But Scarlett and I agreed that he looks like the man in the photos.” Ryker’s identical blue eyes stare back at me, so innocent and full of unanswered questions.

This is gonna get much harder for them before it gets any easier. Lots of secrets they don’t know yet. Stuff they’ll eventually find out. It’s not as if I can hide it forever. Nor do I want to. If Ryker hadn’t left, they’d know their father. If my dad hadn’t faked his death, they’d have had a grandpa long before this. The problem is, I’m going to be the bad guy. The one who has to break the news. To tell them the truth, or some version of it that I know their brains can understand. The last thing I want is them thinking any of this is their fault. Ryker didn’t leave them because of them. Just as my dad didn’t leave me because of me. Too bad kids have their own warped yet resilient way of dealing. I should know. My childhood was anything but easy.

“What photos?”

Calmly, I stroke her fine, blonde locks. When all I wanna do is snatch my dad up by the ear and march him through the woods so he can tell me how this happened. That’s what my grams would do. The woman who thinks her son has been dead half my damn life. Jesus. What a cluster fuck.

I sigh inwardly.

What’s a pregnant lady gotta do ‘round here to catch a nap?

All I wanted to do was hug my kids and nap. And maybe grab a bite to eat that doesn’t come from a fast food joint.

Guess this is what I get for wishful thinking.

Life can suck my lady-nuts.

“The ones on the wall in the kitchen. He has your eyes. His hair’s different, but he looks the same. And he has tattoos. One of them says my name,” the last part she utters in adolescent awe.

She’s smart. Too fricken smart for her own good.

Shit.

How do I handle this? What would you do?

I hadn’t planned on unwrapping the past until we were settled in.

Looks like I don’t have a choice any longer, now do I?

Sighing for real this time, I close my eyes, take a deep cleansing breath, and blow it out. To make this easier to confess, I press my lips to Roxie’s forehead. The closer to my kids, the better. “I found out my dad was alive in November when I came here to visit. I didn’t tell you guys because I wasn’t sure you’d be able to meet him. But, yes, smart girl, Ghost is your grandpa. And, Bear is, um … er … your grandpa, too.”

Chancing a glance at my men, to gauge their reactions, I’m shocked to my core when I see Bear clinging to Dad, hands fisted in his t-shirt, face stuffed in the crook of his neck, shuddering through soft sobs. To soothe his lover, Dad rubs Bear’s leather-clad back, speaking to him in gentle tones too low for me to hear. Beside them, stands Kade with redness rimming his eyes. He dashes the wetness away with his fingertips. I swallow hard. Watching people cry, makes me cry, dammit. They’ve gotta stop, or I’m gonna lose it, too. Pressing my lips together and blinking rapidly, I stave off the waterworks. These stupid pregnancy hormones need to be handcuffed and placed in solitary confinement for the remainder of my pregnancy.

“Bear’s our grandpa, too?” Scarlett whispers in surprise, a giant Colgate smile illuminating her angelic face.

Moving my lips from Roxie to Scarlett, I peck her forehead. I suppose the bonus of having two giants for daughters is they’re only a couple inches shorter than me, so I don’t have to bend to love on them anymore. Granted, that also makes me extremely sad. Watching your kids grow up is both rewarding and heartbreaking. You wanna put a brick on top of their head to keep them small. At the same time, you wanna feed them Miracle Grow to grow big and strong. Too bad Roxie and Scarlett didn’t take after me. Nope. Their dad’s super sperm had to gift them his height genetics. In a few years, I’m gonna be the shortest of the bunch. Perhaps baby number three will be like mommy. One can hope.

“He is,” I answer Scarlett. Deciding to delve further into explanation, so they don’t have to pry, I add, “Grandpa Ghost and Bear are … married.” They’re not. But that’s semantics. Commitment is commitment. That’s all they need to know. The fact that he’s also their dad’s father is a moot point at this moment. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Both girls’ heads turn instantaneously. Dad jostles Bear and lifts his chin, indicating that Rox and Scarlett are watching. “We—we’re gay,” Dad explains awkwardly as Bear collects himself.

“We know,” Roxie replies maturely, shoulders back, head held high. “You kissed Be—Papa when we got here. Mom has a lady she works with who’s gay. Her girlfriend’s real nice.”

And supremely kinky. Though they don’t know that.

Since before motherhood, I’ve thought it’s every parent’s duty to teach their children about those different than them. There’s too much hate in the world. Too much bigotry. The last thing I want is my girls growing up racist or homophobes because they weren’t exposed to people of different ethnicities or those who love the same sex. Different doesn’t mean better, nor worse. Love is love. Skin is pigment not character. Gah. I’m rambling again. Pretty sure I could preach on this subject all day. Don’t worry. I’m not telling you how to parent. If I were, you’d flip me the bird anyhow. Not that I’d blame ya. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.

Taking care of his man, Dad wipes the stray tears from Bear’s rosy cheeks with his thumbs before chastely kissing his lips. Bear wraps his arms around Dad’s waist, touching their foreheads together for an intimate breath. It’s equal parts strange and adorable to witness. Bear’s this huge, barrel-chested guy with a long beard and kind blue eyes. Whereas Dad’s average and shorter than Bear by a few inches. Observing them side by side, you’d assume my father was the emotional of the two. And Bear the brawny, rough-edged, show-no-emotions badass. That couldn’t be any further from the truth. Like father like sons in that respect. They make a cute couple. Colorful tattoos and all.

To lighten the mood, I pat both kiddos on the shoulder before coaxing them toward the cabin’s back door. They follow me without complaint or question. Thankfully. I can only take so much before my emotional damn breaks, and Bear’s reaction has pretty much taken me to the brink. Any minute now, I’m gonna bawl. And it’s gonna be an ugly cry. That’s the last thing I need. Not when I’m supposed to be strong. Granted, this has been one of the most pivotal moments in my life. My kids officially have grandpas. Plural. It wasn’t how I pictured it happening. Hell. I never thought it would. If I hadn’t been kidnapped, this day might’ve never come.

Opening the wooden screen door, staring through the cutesy window, I try the knob. It’s locked.

“I’ve … I’ve got a key.” Bear wrestles it out of his pocket, offering it to me.

Dipping my chin in thanks, I slide it into the hole and pause, eyes on the black handle. This is it. There’s no turning back. We’re in Texas. Moving here temporarily. The girls start school tomorrow. My life’s changing. This is my new home. The four walls that’ll hold future memories. Ones that I hope, ten years from now, I look back on fondly. Not regret.

Kade wedges himself between the house and Roxie. Flashing a friendly smile, he sets his mitt atop mine and we turn the key together. Click goes the lock. Exhaling a rush of air, I pull up my big girl panties and enter the cabin’s mudroom, complete with rustic hooks on the wall, a deep sink, and a stacked energy efficient washer and dryer. This is nice. There’s a picture on the wall that says, ‘Love is the feeling you get when you like something as much as your motorcycle’. Covering my mouth with my hand, I conceal a snicker. That sounds just like Ryker.

Waddling deeper into the space, the cozy scent of cinnamon, warm vanilla, and wood instantly intoxicates me. Mmmm. They should bottle this smell and sell it everywhere. Ryker would be a millionaire by Sunday.

In the middle of the great room, I come to a standstill, overwhelmed by the… This is… Jesus… It’s like he snatched the picture-perfect cabin right outta my dreams, clicked his heels together like Dorothy, and poof … it’s here. I’m … I’m at a loss for words.

“Mom?” Sidling up next to me, Roxie touches my arm that hangs at my side.

“Yeah, sweetie?” I mutter dumbly, soaking in the atmosphere that’s turned my fluttery insides to a vat of pink sparkly goo. I … I … can’t believe this. From the earthy tones, to the thoughtful touches, it’s exquisite. This isn’t a simple bachelor’s cabin. It’s a home built for a family in mind. If there’d been any doubt that Ryker built this place for us, all doubts have been wiped clean. I couldn’t have designed it better myself.

Overhead, dark stained, hand-hewn beams accent the vaulted ceiling. The walls are smooth wood and slightly lighter in color. The floor’s wide planked hardwood and strewn with colorful rugs to warm the space. There’s a small living room next to the six chaired dining room table. The couch’s tan leather and flanked by simple side tables and lamps. The oversized matching chair with ottoman is right out of a book nerd’s fantasy. I can’t wait to curl up in it and read. Oh, and look, there’s a corner fireplace, too. How did I miss that? It’s huge. Covering the entire wall, floor to ceiling, with large unrefined stone. Above the hand-hewn mantel Ryker’s mounted a flat-screen TV. That sucker’s gotta be larger than any of the TVs we have at home. And here I thought my measly fifty inch was impressive.

“This is beautiful. Don’t you think?” Roxie finally says.

She, too, is busy checking out the space, as is everyone else. If my memory serves me correct, nobody aside from Ryker has set foot in this place. I’m sure it’s a little jarring to everybody else as well. ‘Cause lord knows, I’m still astounded. And we haven’t seen the bedrooms or bathroom yet. If this is what my insides feel like now … gooey and whatever else I’m feelin’, I can’t imagine what’s gonna happen once I see those. Then again, maybe they’re crap. Highly unlikely, though.

“It sure is,” I agree, spinning around to soak in the open kitchen. It’s the perfect blend of rustic and modern. Maple cupboards join seamlessly with the granite countertops. All the appliances are top of the line stainless. And that range … whoa buddy, check it out.

“Is that a six burner gas stove with a pot filler?”

No. That can’t be possible. They only have ranges like that in multimillion-dollar homes on HGTV. Not houses I can afford to live in. Rubbing my eyes with my fists, I clear them of any debris to be sure I’m not imagining this. Nope. It’s still there. Well, I’ll be damned. I’ve always wanted a gas stove. The one at my house is an old electric one left from the previous owners. I suppose it works okay, as long as you turn the temperature down twenty degrees or you’ll burn the back half of your food. It’s a fussy bitch that took me two years to master.

Scarlett meanders into the kitchen and does a full circle. Her too large flats slap loudly on the floor. I wish she’d stop wearing those. They used to be Roxie’s until she outgrew them. Unfortunately, they were adopted by Scarlett before I could donate them to the Salvation Army. “Mommy, you can cook a feast in here.”

“I know. It’s very nice.”

More than nice. It’s a good thing Ryker’s busy with Vanessa because all this praise would undoubtedly over inflate his already big head. Wouldn’t want to see it pop. I’m not Dexter Morgan. Icky brain matter isn’t my bag.

Uncle Kade trails Scarlett into the kitchen as if there’s a tether tied around their waists. Guess his attention’s better spent on Scarlett and the rest of the family than on uninterested Rosie, who said she had to run errands and would meet us back here tonight. That woman has to sleep sometime. She’s like the Energizer Bunny—she keeps going and going and going.

Curiouser and curiouser, I leave my family to their own devices and scout the rest of the cabin alone. Off the kitchen, there’s a hallway. The first door I come to is a bathroom. Standard, albeit rustic in appearance with moss green rugs and an outdoorsy shower curtain. The next room’s a bedroom. Basic cabiny feel, with a single twin bed and closet. Rosie’s place, if I have anything to say about it. There’s no way she’s sleeping on the couch.

Standing before the third door, I’m greeted with a handmade sign that says Daddy’s girls only. Shocked by the text and intricate craftsmanship, I read over each letter five times, debating if I should yank the sign off the door, so Rox and Scarlett don’t see it. By the sixth read through, I squash that desire like a bug. I’m doin’ the right thing by allowing it to stay. That’s the adult thing to do. It is. I know it. If only my gut would stop nagging me. This is one case she’s not right. Ryker designed this cabin. It’s his domain. It’d be disrespectful to tarnish the personal details even if they may pose uncomfortable questions. For all the girls know, he’s designed this room for Vanessa’s baby. Only I know the truth. If they ask otherwise, I’ll change the subject. They needn’t know.

Satisfied with my decision, a ball of something pleasant unfurls in my center as I push open my daughters’ bedroom door and gasp. Wow! Just wow. That’s… Wow. Afraid to enter in fear I’ll suck all the magic from the space, I observe the colorful retreat from the doorway. Pinks and blues swirl in a symphony of glitter and fluff. There’s a massive white bookshelf stuffed to the gills. Butterflies and fairies galore. Even the pink and blue fuzzy, oversized rug that’d look hideous in any other room, adds to the girlish ambiance.

“Mom? You down there?”

“Yes, honey.”

Slappy footsteps amble up the hall and stop beside me. A heartbeat passes in eerie silence followed by an ear-piercing squeal. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Roxie! Oh my Gosh!” Scarlett jumps up and down, clapping, her blonde hair bouncing wildly. Roxie comes running and skids to a halt next to her sister. Wanting to appreciate this moment in all its glory, I step back as a stupid bout of happy tears skew my vision. I don’t think my smile could get any wider at this point.

“Is this… It’s… Oh,” Roxie stammers, frozen in place while Scarlett changes from clapping to a weird celebratory dance that includes twerking.

“Woo hoo! This is our new bedroom. Woohoo! I call the pink side!” Scarlett sings.

Having created quite the buzz, the men decide to join us. Six bodies in a hallway’s never felt so crowded. Yet, enjoyably so. Kade throws an arm over my shoulder. Holding out his phone with his free hand, he shoots a video of the girls exploring their bedroom.

“This is aweeeesome!” Scarlett plops on her bed, and her flats go flying.

“It is.” Roxie, my ten-year-old, is more mature with her approach. It’s slow and deliberate. If it weren’t for her massive smile, you’d doubt she loves the space at all. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she tests the density with a hefty bounce. A tiny laugh emerges.

My heart swells even bigger.

If I could kiss Ryker right now for giving this to our kids, I would. It’s a shame he missed it.

“Aww.” Bear sniffles.

“Are you cryin’ again, Pops?” Kade teases, camera still rolling.

“Shut it,” he grumbles.

Grinning, Dad chuckles and bumps his hip against Bear’s. “It’s okay, ya big softie.”

Bear wipes his eyes with the heel of his palms. “Shut up. I officially became a grandpa today.”

“You’ve been one for years,” Kade remarks absentmindedly, watching the girls.

“You can’t be a real grandpa unless the kids know about you. Now that Kat told them who I am, I get to play the part.”

Happy to have given him this gift, that I didn’t realize was a gift at all, I reply, “As long as you don’t let the girls watch any more Titanic, or do or watch things I don’t approve of, then you can see them as much as you’d like while we’re here.”

“What the hell’s wrong with Titanic?” Dad interjects, arching a stern, irritated brow.

Apparently, someone’s a bit touchy I commented on their movie choice.

“It has sex and boobs.”

Duh.

Dad huffs, shaking his head, lips pursed. “They covered their eyes for those parts. Just like you did when you were a kid watchin’ Captain Ron.”

Oh, god. I completely forgot about that.

“Or Dances With Wolves. Or Cry Baby. Need I go on?”

Wait. Cry Baby?

“When did you make me cover my eyes during Cry Baby?” Yes, I know it’s silly to ask, but I’m curious. ‘Cause I don’t remember having to cover my eyes during that movie at all.

“All that messy kissing. And the bucket washing scene,” he explains. “I have no idea what you ever saw in that film. It puts the cheese in cheesy.”

Affronted, I scoff and cross my arms under my ample chest. How dare he insult Cry Baby Walker.

Bear shoves Dad’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re gay?”

“Yes,” he clips, glaring at his smirking partner.

“Then you’d know why Kat loved that movie. The man rode a fuckin’ motorcycle and kissed so fuckin’ sexy you know he’d give great head.”

One second, Dad’s standing here slightly riled up; the next, he’s shoving Bear down the hall, back toward the living room. “Great head, huh? Says the man who ain’t gettin’ any for a long fuckin’ time. How about you walk a little faster. You owe me a BJ,” Dad admonishes.

Weird.

Eyeing Kade, I thumb point the way they went. “Care to explain that?”

He shrugs. “Ghost’s a little possessive. And given the week he’s had, he deserves a blowjob.” Kade winks and pulls me closer to lay a sloppy kiss on my forehead.

Ewy. Gross.

Wrinkling my nose up at him, smothering a grin, I swipe the wetness away with the back of my hand.

“A little possessive?” I comment rhetorically.

“If you think that’s bad, at a clubhouse party a few years back, Pops drank one too many. Some hang-around started chattin’ him up. Standin’ a bit too close. Ghost saw, kicked the dude out, and nobody slept well that night.”

“Why?” I massage my bump as the girls stay occupied in their new room.

“Let’s just say Pops was too busy makin’ up to Ghost. They were louder than usual. Scarred the brothers for life. Lesser men can’t handle havin’ a club brother fuckin’ dudes. Imagine havin’ a gay prez and VP. It sure as hell ain’t easy. They take a lotta shit and dish it out tenfold to maintain their reps. Can’t have anyone thinkin’ they’re goin’ twinkle toes faggy.”

I bristle.

Kade runs a hand over his short hair. “And, no, I’m not slurrin’ some homophobic rhetoric to be a dick. It’s somethin’ we gotta think about every day. Appearin’ weak’s a death sentence. There’s a prez from another chapter who hates Pops ‘cause he’s bi. When our parents got together, Big held church with all the club prezzes. I wasn’t there, but I know there were words and fists thrown. One thing every member knows is ya don’t fuck with Big Dick’s orders unless you wanna lose territory or your life. He busted some heads. Squared shit up. Now we gotta maintain the status quo. Which is harder than ya think when you got a handful of homophobic brothers always tryin’ to stir up trouble.”

Unsure of how to respond, I keep it simple. “Makes sense. I can’t imagine it’s easy runnin’ a club. Let alone bein’ gay in a straight man’s world while doing it.”

“Pops is good at it. He was born a biker.”

That he was.

A companionable silence descends upon us as we exchange quick smiles and side hugs. Content, I watch the girls in their element. It’s refreshing. I couldn’t tell you the last time I took a moment to simply watch them play—be. I’m always too busy running here or there. Working. Cooking. Cleaning. You know, normal life crap. I swear it feels like only yesterday I brought Scarlett home from the hospital for the first time. It’s crazy how fast time flies.

Kade films more of the girls, and I excuse myself to explore the rest of the cabin. Not that there’s much left to discover.

Touching the final knob at the end of the hallway, I peer over my shoulder. Kade’s too engrossed in my kids to pay me any mind. It’s show time. Giddy with anticipation, I close my eyes, turn the handle, and slowly cross the threshold one careful step at a time. Blindly padding deeper into the boudoir, I transition from hardwood underfoot to something plush. Worried I may bump into something if I go any further, I wipe my sweaty palms on my leggings and … chicken out. What if it’s ugly? What if I hate the design? What if there’s nudie magazines on the nightstand? Or a Harley Davidson comforter? Maybe a life size blow-up doll of Angelina Jolie, if Ryker’s into her. I don’t know. He used to enjoy her movies. For all I know, that was one of his many lies, concocted to appease me. To make me fall head over heels long enough for him to knock me up twice before yanking the rug out from under me.

Enough.

I shouldn’t dwell.

Now’s not the time for it.

I take a deep breath. The same cinnamon, vanilla, woodsy aroma permeates the room, easing my warring nerves. If it smells this good in here, too, it can’t be all bad. Cinnamon is the scent of Christmas. And Christmas signifies joy and happiness. Therefore, nothing can go wrong. I refuse to believe it will. Alright. That’s settled. I’m sticking to it. Let’s do this. I can…

Springing my eyes open, they instantly round into saucers. Holy mother of unicorns. My heart dives to the ground like a rollercoaster and shoots back up the next hill as I take a staggering step backward. Then another and another until I’m flush with the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Only that’s not what I care about right now. It’s the pictures. Dozens and dozens of them, everywhere. Of me. Scarlett. Roxie. Some of us together. Some not.

On the nightstand I presume is Ryker’s, is a box of Kleenex, a bottle of lotion, and a framed 5x7 of us kissing in the hospital the day Roxie was born. I remember when we took it. This was before selfie sticks and badass smartphones. Ryker had to hold out his digital camera as far as he could to snap a million pictures and pray one turned out decent. This one did. Geeze. We look happy. And young. So very young.

One-by-one, I examine the photos in detail from the same spot. Emotions I choose not to examine too closely flood my system. I can’t believe my eyes. This isn’t just a bedroom. It’s a freaking shrine. A sweet albeit kinda creepy one.

On the hand-hewn mantel nudging my shoulder is more of us. In the librarian worthy floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelf, where there should be novels, there’s not. Can you guess what there is? Dozens of framed memories that took place what feels like a lifetime ago. When we were happy, and I was madly in love.

Walking into the cabin, there was no sign of us anywhere. I didn’t expect there to be. Guess I should have. ‘Cause this is insanity. Though, among the strangeness is a kind of all-consuming warmth that encompasses the space with a feeling of rightness. From the cream duvet, to the fancy sleigh bed. All the way to the elegant chandelier and bear rug sprawled in front of the fireplace. A fireplace that puts the one in the living room to shame. Not due to its size. But its beauty. The hearth’s an exquisite slab of stone. Adorning it are all the tools needed to build a fire—a small stack of wood and a basket of pine cones. It’s as if a Hallmark Christmas movie has come to life right before my eyes.

Waddling to the far door that’s cracked open, I peek inside, expecting to see a closet. Except it’s not. Slipping in the bathroom, my eyes grow, on the verge of bulging from their sockets. There’s a fabulous sunken tub and a separate stone shower stall, complete with a dual pair of rainfall shower heads. The doors surrounding it are made of floor-to-ceiling glass. Hot damn. This is a massive en-suite with what appears to be not one but two walk-in closets. The first is full of jeans and t-shirts. The other, larger one, barren. I suppose this is where my belongings will go. Now all I need to do is have Kade carry them inside.

Eyeing the tub, I rub my palms together greedily. I could use a bath. A long one with candles lit and soft music crooning. This is the kind of tub you do that in. Turning the knobs, the water flows heavily from the rustic faucet. There was no expense spared in this cabin, that’s for sure. It gives any HGTV cabin a run for its money. Adjusting the water temp, I get it hot enough to turn my skin red, just the way I prefer. Then I set about exploring the cabinets in search of a washcloth and towel. Thankfully, they’re easy to find beneath the sink. Even the towels are luxurious. Softer than anything I’ve dried my body on before. This is gonna be a real treat. One I need after that horrible drive.

Making haste, I walk out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the hall in search of Kade. Only he’s gone. Crap. Voices carry from my girls’ bedroom, so I stop there first. On the floor sits Uncle Kade, legs out in front of him as Scarlett paints his toenails. It’s nice to know somebody’s secure enough in his masculinity to rock hooker red like a badass.

“Where’d you get the polish?” I ask, amused.

Kade and Scarlett beam up at me as he wiggles his sexy man toes. They’re like his brothers. I hate feet, but I always did think Ryker had nice ones.

“There’s a whole set of them in her nightstand,” Kade explains, pointing to the furniture piece flanking Scarlett’s bed.

“So you picked red?”

“It’s a Sacred Sinner’s color. Figured it’d go well with my cut.” He points to the patch on his back.

Nodding, I concur.

“When you’re done, do you think you could bring my clothes into the bedroom a-lone?” I emphasize the last word, making serious eye contact because I don’t need the girls seeing the pictures in the bedroom before I get a chance to take them down. They can’t stay up with us living here. Not unless I wanna have the daddy talk today, which I don’t.

“Did you know Kade’s our uncle?” Roxie comments from the bed, her nose stuffed in a book, back against the headboard.

“He is, is he?” I wink at Kade, playing along.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scarlett asks, now applying a silver glitter top coat.

Boy oh boy. Let’s see him try to get that polish off now. He’ll need a damn chisel. Every female knows glitter polish is the devil to remove. I dunno if I should fist bump my daughter and her evil ways, or scold her for torturing her poor unsuspecting uncle. Nah. I’ll let him suffer and praise her for it later. Atta girl.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I tease. Truthfully, the grandpa bomb was a tad much for me to handle that I didn’t think to address the uncle aspect.

“Mooom,” they drone in unison.

Taking a page out of Bear’s handbook, I lift my hands in mock surrender. “You’re smart. You figured it out.”

“Does this mean Ryker’s our uncle, too? Since Grandpa is married to Papa?” Scarlett inquires innocently.

Kade and I exchange a brief look of horror. “No!” we shout instantaneously. Needing to change the subject fast, so they don’t ask more questions, I add, “I’m gonna go take a bath. You ladies be good. No makeup on Uncle Kade. When I’m done, why don’t we order a pizza or something? I’m sure your grandpas are floatin’ around here somewhere.”

Doin’ the nasty.

“Okay, Mommy,” Scarlett says.

“Can we get mushrooms?” Roxie tests, ever the mushroom addict.

“I dig me some mushrooms, so we’d better get extra on our pizza. We can share it. That okay with you, little one?” Kade addresses Rox.

Tipping her book down, she smiles shyly at him. “I … I’d love that. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Kade returns, making her blush.

They gotta quit all this sweetness. My heart can’t take it.

We exchange a few more pleasantries before I escape to my tub that’s almost full. Forgoing the candles just this once, I peel off my clothes and submerge myself in a bathtub made for the Gods.

Sighing, I tilt my head back and chill. Tension bleeds from my muscles. The stress of the week seeps from my pores. This was worth the entire trip. To see my children safe and happy. For them to meet their family. To soak in this tub. For a few short minutes, I’m gonna forget all the bad stuff and embrace the good that’s happened. Guess that’s all you really can do. When life gives ya lemons, you grab some tequila and make yourself a pitcher of margaritas. This cabin’s my proverbial margarita. It’s inebriating bliss.