Snark crouches next to us and holds out his hand to Izzy. “Hey, I'm your daddy. It's nice to meet you.” She doesn't let go of the bear, but with a curious gleam, she captures his index finger in her tiny grasp. He moves his hand up and down in a shake hands kind of motion. “With that grip, we’ll have you on your first bike ride in no time.”
“What? Are you crazy? You can't take a baby on a motorcycle!” I squeeze Izzy so tight she squeaks in surprise.
“Slow. Inside the compound. I'm not a fucking idiot.”
“Can I hold her?” Bear holds his hands out. I look at them skeptically.
“Do you know how?”
“Jesus, I told you I raised my siblings. I'm the oldest. Of the four of Isabella's fathers, I'm the only fucker who actually knows how to change a diaper. Now will you let me hold my goddamn daughter?” He's not mad, exactly, but definitely insulted.
“Sorry. Here.”
He picks her up almost reverently, then nestles her into the crook of his massive arm. She settles in happily, clutching her new bear close.
Snark laughs. “Bear holding Bear's baby holding the baby's bear she got from Bear. I should take a fucking picture.”
“Fuck off,” grumbles Bear, but he's not paying attention. He's too busy watching Izzy, and with a big finger, gently stroking her round cheek. Maybe Snark's joking about taking a picture, but I’m sure as hell taking a couple. I whip out my phone. Bear’s so preoccupied he doesn't even notice. Then he looks up at Snark. “Here, take a turn.”
“What?”
“Come on. She's yours. You fucking scared?”
That wipes Snarks grin off right away. “Fuck you. Never. Give her here. Anything to worry about?”
“Nah. Just don't drop her or twist her funny. She's old enough.” And then I watch—not without a little trepidation—Snark slip a gun from his belt, carefully placing it out of reach before Bear passes Izzy over like a delicate piece of porcelain.
When they're like this, it's hard to remember that the world thinks they're rough and dangerous. But I know better than most that the stupid conflict in this city has put people in the ground on both our sides. Maybe this isn’t how Papa imagines it will happen, but seeing them with our baby gives me hope. Then again, the cold metal gun sitting so matter of factly on the side table is a stark reminder that none of us live in a safe world.
Still, once he's holding her in front of him and making funny faces to make her laugh, it’s hard not to have hope. Until I became a single mom, I was never specifically attracted to the sexy dad type, but I have to admit it’s growing on me, and fast.
With the guys around to entertain Izzy, I get to eat lunch without being interrupted even once. The little things become so big when you're the only one in charge. Bear even proves he knows the art of the diaper change. If it wasn't for the fact that the Mafia typically shoots bikers on sight, that there’s a psycho convinced I'm his promised one, and that if anyone finds out about this, there's going to be a war, truce talks or not, life would be pretty damn good. What if I had them here like this, every day? What would that be like?
I shouldn't even think that way, because that dream seems so impossible.
“She's asleep,” says Bear as he comes out of my bedroom, his beard all frazzled from letting Izzy play with it. Bear as a dad is sexy as fuck.
“Thanks.” Why is everything suddenly so awkward? Without Izzy as our center of attention, that leaves only… us.
Part of me is thinking of how great these guys are with my—our—baby. Part is screaming that there are people literally willing to shoot these guys just for being near me.
And then there's the tiny part leftover that all too vividly remembers the night that kicked all of this off to begin with. I look away so they don't see me blush. “So now what? I don't know where we go from here.”
“Well, not to the bedroom,” says Snark and winks. “Someone's there already.”
“No, I don't mean—” Well, I kind of do. But I probably shouldn't.
Bear drops into the couch next to me, his weight on the cushion compressing it so much I literally feel myself lift up. His huge hand lands on my thigh, warm through my thin leggings. He rumbles through his smirk, “You're even hotter now than when I first saw you at the club. A fucking MILF. Motherhood suits you.”
“What? Have you even looked at me? My hair's a mess, I have no makeup on and—well, Izzy gave me many wonderful things, but… I mean, look at this.” I gesture at myself. Okay, motherhood made my boobs amazing, but everything else got a little squishier, too. “You don't have to—”