“I spoke with Jackson yesterday,” I said, broaching the subject guaranteed to piss her off.
She frowned. “Why?”
I kept my gaze pinned to hers. “Because he needs to hurry shit the fuck along and make you part-time already. He’s been promising you that for months.”
“Fuck, King, I told you to stay out of that. I can fight my own battles with Jackson.”
“You’ve been fighting this one for too fucking long. I’ve sat back and let you handle shit, but I’m done waiting. I told him I wanted a call within the week to confirm your part-time status.”
“King,” she started, but I shook my head and cut her off.
“Lily, you’re exhausted. Hell, if I had my fucking way, you wouldn’t work at all. But I know better than to push you for that, so I’m pushing you and Jackson for what I know I can get.”
She stared at me silently for a few moments, before muttering, “You drive me fucking crazy half the time.”
“You return the fucking favour.”
Moving closer, she jabbed me in the chest. “I’m going to push you on something then, too.”
Jesus. “What?”
“You need to quit smoking.”
“Fuck, woman, we’ve already discussed this. Don’t give me hell over it again.”
“Your doctor said—”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what my doctor said.”
Her face softened. “Yeah well, maybe you should, because I don’t want you to die sooner than you have to.” Tears welled in her eyes, and as she wiped at them, she grumbled, “God, I hate pregnancy hormones.”
That fucking made two of us.
“Daddy!” Cade ran at me, arms outstretched, and I bent to lift him up as he said, “Auntie Skye got me a twuck for my birfday!”
I jerked my chin at Skylar who’d just arrived with her latest boyfriend. I gave him a month at the most before she kicked him to the kerb. Skylar couldn’t seem to find a man who would stand up to her and her bullshit, and this dickhead didn’t fit that category either. I’d told her to get some advice off Annika who had finally married the guy she’d met two years ago. He had some fucking balls on him that I could respect.
I eyed my son. It was his third birthday today. I’d managed to knock Lily up fast after I’d married her. If I had my way, she’d have a baby in her belly more often than not, because my kids made my fucking life. But Lily had told me six was a good number to stop at, so after this current pregnancy, I’d be heading into a new kind of battle. The day we were married, I’d told her I wanted four more kids, and I hadn’t been fucking about. I intended to win that battle, but fuck, I wouldn’t complain if it was a long, drawn-out one. Going to battle with my wife got me hard as fuck and led to some crazy shit going down between us. It was the kind of shit a man could die happy having experienced.
I smiled at Cade. “Why don’t you and Meredith play with it in the sandpit?” Eyeing Lily’s mother, sister, Jamie, and Adelaide coming down the stairs, I added, “Grandma’s here.”
He squealed with delight, wiggled out of my hold, and took off in Hannah’s direction.
Building this place had been one of the best damn decisions Lily and I had made. We’d sold the place in the city after the shit that went down there and bought this land. And neither of us had looked back. Lily had surprised the hell out of me by how she’d handled the D’Amato shit, but it had just been the first in a line of incidences she’d had to stand tall against as my old lady.
“Oh God,” she muttered, her hand landing on my chest, scrunching a handful of my shirt.
“What?” I asked, following her gaze.
“Zara. Shit, shit, shit. Now is not the time for her to get distracted from her studies.”
I found what she was looking at, and I didn’t fucking like it either.
“I’ll have a word with him,” I said firmly as my shoulders tensed.
Lily looked at me. “King, don’t be hard on him. It’s not his fault Zara’s watching him.”
I clenched my jaw as I watched Fury making his way through the party toward me, oblivious to the fact my daughter had her gaze trained on him. “That may be the case, Lily, but if I’m not hard on him, he won’t have a reason to keep his distance from her.” And no fucking way was a man like Fury getting anywhere near my daughter. She may have been eighteen now, but I still saw her as the fourteen-year-old I’d handled little shits for.