“You’re going to have your hands full with that one, Nate.”
I snort, knowing good and well Malia is going to keep me on my toes. At five, she has the attitude of an adult, but I guess that’s on me.
“No kidding,” I sigh, bending down to my daughter’s level to meet her stare head-on. “What do you say, baby girl?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. You told me I couldn’t lie and saying sorry would be lying because I’m not.”
Well, she’s got me there.
“Go cool off in the gym.”
Malia bows her head, cheeks flushed, and eyes darting around on the ground, no longer wanting to look me in the eye. She’s embarrassed. When she does not move, I tap her under the chin with my knuckle, making her look at me.
“Keep that chin up—we don’t bow.” Malia nods her understanding and takes off down the hall.
When she’s out of sight, Liam steps up to me with his head down.
“Uncle Nate, can I ask you something?”
He raises his head to meet my eyes, his face is red from blushing, making his blue eyes stand out against his tanned skin. The boy is the perfect mix of his parents, with deep brown hair and vibrant light blue eyes like his father and tanned skin like his mother.
“Can I marry Malia one day?” he asks.
I glance at Joey, who looks like he will have an aneurysm from holding in his laughter, then Nadya, who looks as though she is already planning their wedding.
Ruffling Liam’s hair, I lean into him. “If you want to deal with that your whole life, kid. Knock yourself out.”
The sound of heels in the hallway snaps me out of my memory. The footsteps I recognize as Malia’s, which stops my pacing. Breckin and Donovan shift on the couch, sitting taller and less like degenerates with nothing better to do.
“Honey, I’m home,” Malia announces as she steps into my office.
I look over at her and assess any damage there might be. She looks fine aside from an oversized t-shirt with leggings and stilettos that don’t match her outfit.
She crosses her arms and takes in the room's occupants, popping her hip out and tapping her toe in annoyance when her gaze lands on Breckin.
I have not paid those two much mind since I put my foot down about their… relationship. It was months ago, and there still seems to be a lot of tension, but I cannot be bothered to play mediator with grown-ass adults.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I ask her.
Malia snaps her gaze to me and tilts her head. She understands there is more to my question. We all know where she was and who she was with.
“I didn’t hurt him, don’t worry. Quite the opposite, actually,” she taunts before turning on her heel. “If you need something, call someone else.”
Donovan stands up and stretches, taking her return home as a sign he is free to go. "Well, Dad, it looks like she fucked Brenner.”
My head snaps back, and I can only imagine the look of disgust on my face by the look of amusement on my son’s.
“Christ, Donovan.” I groan. “Sometimes, I think you both forget I am your father, and I do not want to know about your escapades.”
He shrugs.
“We never forget. We just don’t care. But that ‘escapade,’” he says, crooking his fingers into quotations, “could fuck up a lot of shit, Dad.”
I narrow my eyes on my son, his flippant behavior grinding on my nerves.
“What shit? Your sister is no longer involved in this, so it does not affect anything. Let me make myself very clear, son. Whether or not that man can ID you, you make sure your sister is safe. Next time you leave her stranded.”
I look between both men, Breckin now standing next to Donovan.