* * *
Six years later
I tighten the straps of the harness, then check the safety line for the fourth time.
“Comeon, Dad.” My son is vibrating with excitement, practically bouncing off the ceiling. His dark hair sticks up in wild tufts, and his narrow frame is swamped in a hand-knitted red sweater. One I made him last year.
“Maybe I’d go quicker if you stopped wriggling.”
He sucks in a sharp breath and turns to stone. I exchange grins with his mother, holding our newborn daughter against her chest at the top of the tower staircase.
“You be careful there too,” I warn. “Don’t come out into the wind.”
Jessica rolls her eyes. “We hear you, Murray. Stop fretting.”
Nope. Sorry, but no-can-do. I willalwaysworry about my wife and babies. It’s in my blood. They’re everything to me. Everything.
And if that means I drive them insane with extra safety precautions? So be it.
“Comeon,” our son whines again. “You hardly ever let me come up here!”
“With good reason,” I grumble, but I take his hand and lead him out onto the tower walkway. Once he’s older, he can come up here more often, but for now, we’re playing it safe. He comes up here with me, or not at all. “You got your cloth?”
He waves it like a tiny flag. So I get him scrubbing the lantern while he’s up here—I’m not sorry. He loves it, and it’s funny.
It’s calm out today, and that’s planned too. I don’t bring any of them out here during a storm. But we’re high up, so our voices still fly away on the wind and our clothes flap around our bodies.
“Dad?” my son yells.
I tug on his safety line again. Just checking. “Yeah?”
“Can I do the horn tonight?”
I grin out at the waves, scars stretching. “If it’s foggy.”
“Yesss.” He pumps a small fist. “You always let Mom do the horn.”
I wink at Jessica, smiling at us from the shadows. “Well, she’s my favorite.”
“You can’t say things like that, Murray,” she calls.
“Sure I can.” I ruffle his hair. “She’s your favorite too, right?”
“Yup.”
I’m not even mad about it. My son has excellent taste. And we’re all teasing each other really, because he’s clutching at my hand like a lifeline and I’d do anything for this kid. My daughter, too.
As I watch him scrub his little cloth over the lantern glass, grinning so wide, my chest is so full I could burst.
I was lonely for so long.
But now… well. This was worth the wait.
IV
Fake Fiance
Description