out with the other wives, so I don’t know much about any of them or their kids, or anything like that. I had college and my own life, so I really only ever interacted with some of the guys on the team, and even that’s rare. Xander likes all the guys on the team, but he prefers to keep that life separate from his so-called regular life.
He’s weird like that.
“Uh … three I think.”
My jaw drops, horrified. “We’re going to die.”
“It’s going to be fine.”
Xander’s always been the go with the flow one, while I like a plan and structure. The idea of having three kids dropped on us this evening is horrifying to me, while he’s so whatever about it.
“How old are they?” I ask, slipping from the bed so I can get dressed.
“One’s a baby, then they have a little boy that’s two, and a girl that’s four.”
“Oh, my God. We’re going to die,” I say again, because there’s seriously no way we can survive this.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Don’t you dare call me dramatic, Xander Kincaid. That’s three kids under four and I don’t even know how to change a diaper.”
“We’ll be fine. They’re kids. They can’t be that difficult.”
I snort. “We’ll see.”
Xander gets dressed too and then we start downstairs. I stop him on the stairs with a sheepish smile, thinking I should warn him.
“Don’t be mad,” I plead, giving him my best angelic look.
He tilts his head. “What did you do?”
I bat my eyes. “Nothing bad, I promise. But … you know Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I wanted to decorate—”
“What did you do?” he interrupts again.
“I might have gone a teensy bit overboard.” My voice spikes on the word and I hold up my fingers the tiniest bit apart.
He shakes his head and mutters, “This is going to be bad.”
“Just remember, you volunteered me to babysit and didn’t ask me, so this kind of makes us even.”
He narrows his dark eyes, a wrinkle forming in his brows. “That’s two totally different things.”
I wave away his words. “Tomato, tomahto.”
He sighs heavily. “Just show me the damages.”
We finish the trek down the stairs. There are fake cobwebs and tombstones in the dining room across from us. Spiders hang from the ceiling. There are witches hats scattered about.
“Want to see my favorite thing?” I ask him.
He sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
I lead him into the family room, where in the corner there’s a lifelike mummy that’s nearly as tall as he is. It’s easily six feet tall.
“I call him Osiris—that’s the god of the underworld.”
He snorts. “Only you.”