“You better take this pork off me, or there’s not going to be any left for the dinner.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek and sets the pork where I indicate on the kitchen counter.
“You need a hand with anything?” Lyle asks.
“If you could keep the kids out of the kitchen, that would be a big help.”
I’ve got anywhere between sixty to a hundred kids showing up for Christmas dinner, and the last thing I need is my own kids getting in the way.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Lyle snags a piece of pork and stuffs it in his mouth.
“Hey!” I swat his hand away, and he gives me a cheeky grin as he exits the kitchen.
When I turned up on the back of Kray’s bike six years ago, the club really took me in. Not just me, but my ideas of starting a charity for foster kids too.
With club funding, I got the center up and running. We provide temporary beds for kids needing emergency accommodation. We feed them, look after them, and make the transition as easy as possible before they go into foster care.
And every year we throw a big Christmas day party for any kids or families that want to come along.
The kitchen door bursts open, and Charlie runs through, tears streaming down his face. Lyle’s nowhere to be seen, and I guess the job of keeping my kids out was too difficult.
“Nina stole my train,” Charlie wails.
I bend down so I’m level with the four-year-old as he swipes at his tears. “She stole your train, did she?”
“Yeah.” He nods solemnly. “I said she could play with it, but she’s not giving it back.”
Nina comes into the kitchen rolling her eyes. “You can have your dumb train back,” she says dramatically, handing it over to Charlie. “I was putting a battery in it for you.”
Charlie’s tear-stained face instantly turns into a wide grin, and I give Nina a thankful smile. At nine, she’s the oldest of my daughters.
Nina came to us as a foster child four years ago, and we both fell in love with her. The adoption went through last year.
Of our four children, only Charlie is ours biologically, and we’re not planning to have any more of our own. We figured there are enough children in the world looking for families, and we can give them a place to belong.
We’ve officially adopted three children, and there’s always at least a couple of foster kids staying with us too.
It’s busy and chaotic, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“There you are.” Kray comes into the kitchen and scoops a child up under each arm. They both squeal. Even at nine, Nina isn’t too young to enjoy being carried around by her dad.
“Santa’s arriving soon.”
They both wriggle to get free, and as soon as he sets them down, they run out of the kitchen.
Kray plants a kiss on my sweaty brow and slides an arm around me.
“You smell like apple sauce.” He nuzzles my neck, and there’s a familiar tingle through my body.
His lips find mine, and we share a deep kiss.
“When all this is over, I’m taking you upstairs.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
We break away from the kiss, and I stir the apple sauce.