Page 69

Remy

I swear, if I have to chase this little girl around the house one more time, I’m gonna lose my damn mind. My feet are killing me, and this baby feels like it’s doing somersaults in my belly.

“Birdie Reed, you get your butt back here right now!” I holler, waddling as fast as my pregnant self can manage down the hallway. The pitter-patter of her bare feet echoes off the walls, accompanied by high-pitched giggles.

“I don’t want to wear a dress, Remy!” she squeals, ducking into the living room.

I pause, leaning against the doorframe to catch my breath. The ridiculous pink monstrosity of tulle and sequins dangles from my hand, taunting me with its frilly layers and plastic tiara. How the hell did I let her talk me into buying this thing in the first place?

“Come on, sweetheart,” I try for a gentler approach, rubbing my swollen belly. “Don’t you want to be the prettiest princess at the Halloween parade?”

Birdie’s blonde curls peek out from behind the couch, her blue eyes wide and mischievous. “Why can’t I dress up like you and daddy? I wanna be a biker.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Baby girl, you’re a little young for leather and a Harley. Besides, your daddy would have a heart attack.”

It’s not as if I hadn’t tried to get her to wear anything but this stupid princess dress. We’d been to eight different Halloween stores before she finally settled on this one. Thank the good lord that Beaux takes after me. He has had his costume picked out for months.

“But I wanna be tough like you!” Birdie pouts, her bottom lip quivering.

I sigh, lowering myself onto the couch with a grunt. This kid’s got me wrapped around her little finger, and she knows it. “Come here, darlin’,” I say, patting the spot next to me.

Birdie cautiously approaches, eyeing the dress in my hand like it might bite her. When she’s close enough, I scoop her up and settle her on my lap—or what’s left of it, anyway.

“You listen to me, Birdie Reed,” I say, looking into those big blue eyes. “You’re already tougher than any princess I’ve ever met. And you know what? The toughest girls can wear whatever they want and still kick ass.”

Her eyes widen at the curse word, and I can practically hear Mama tutting in disapproval. But hey, the kid’s gotta learn sometime.

“Really?” Birdie asks, her little hands resting on my belly.

“Really,” I affirm. “Now, how about we make a deal? You wear this dress to the party, and when we get home, you can eat as much of your candy as you want.” I may live to regret this deal, but with any luck, she’ll be in a sugar coma before the worst happens. Sometimes, parenting sacrifices have to be made.

Birdie’s face lights up. “Deal!” she squeals, grabbing the dress and racing off to her room.

I lean back, closing my eyes for a moment. Christ, I hope Rex doesn’t kill me for this.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear the familiar rumble of Rex’s motorcycle pulling into the driveway. The front door opens, and his heavy footsteps echo through the house.

“Where is everyone?” Rex calls out.

“In here,” I respond, not bothering to move from my spot on the couch.

Rex appears in the doorway, his imposing frame filling the space. “You still look tired, Rem. You sure you’re feeling okay?”

I snort, running a hand over my face. “Yeah, well, try chasing a five-year-old while carrying a watermelon in your belly. It’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

He chuckles, crossing the room to plant a kiss on my forehead. “Where’s the little troublemaker?”

“Getting dressed, finally,” I sigh. “I had to bribe her with candy to wear that damn princess costume.”

Rex raises an eyebrow. “Candy? You know how she gets when she’s hopped up on sugar.”

“Yeah, well, desperate times call for desperate measures,” I retort.

“Where’s Beaux?”

“Up in his room getting dressed.”

Rex nods, then leans down to press a gentle kiss to my belly. “Has the baby settled down at all?”

“Nope,” I groan. “I swear, it’s like having a tiny kickboxer in there.”

A subtle shift in his demeanor catches my attention. His touch lingers on my stomach, but there’s a distant look in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher. “That’s my kid, alright,” he says with a forced chuckle, though his tone carries a hint of uncertainty that leaves me unsettled.

Just then, we hear the thundering of little feet coming down the stairs. Birdie bursts into the room, a whirlwind of pink tulle and glitter.

“Daddy! Look at me!” she squeals, twirling in her princess dress.

Rex’s face softens immediately, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. “I’ve got myself a real-life princess.”

Birdie beams, basking in her father’s attention. “Remy says I can still be tough even if I’m pretty!”

Rex shoots me an amused look. “Did she now?” He scoops Birdie up, tossing her in the air and catching her as she shrieks with laughter. “Well, she’s right about that. You’re the toughest little princess I know.”

I watch them, my heart swelling. For all his rough edges, Rex is putty in his daughter’s hands. It’s moments like these that remind me why I fell for him all those years ago. At the time, I was still young and dumb, but I knew there was something about this man. Our journey may have been winding with dead-ends, dead bodies, and my father’s legacy actually exploding, but it’s worth all of that to have what we have now. But, there’s something off with Rex. He has always been good about hiding his emotions from the kids. The few times we’ve fought since getting back together, little things here and there, the kids were totally unaware. He can’t hide them from me, though.

“Hey, what about me?” Beaux’s calls out from the doorway. We all turn to see him standing there in his Halloween costume - a grim reaper fully equipped with a plastic scythe.

“Well, would you look at that? The Grim Reaper himself has graced us with his presence.”

Beaux grins, twirling his plastic scythe with surprising dexterity. “Cool, right? Mom helped me with the face paint.”

I can’t help but feel a surge of pride. The kid’s got talent when it comes to the spooky stuff. We’d spent a good hour perfecting the skeletal design on his face, and it shows.

“You look badass, son,” Rex says, setting Birdie down gently. He crosses the room to ruffle Beaux’s hair, careful not to smudge the face paint. “Just like your old man.”

Beaux beams at the compliment, puffing out his chest a little. It still amazes me sometimes how quickly he and Rex bonded once they finally met. There’s no denying the kid is his father’s son.

“Alright, you two terrors,” I say, pushing myself up from the couch with a grunt. “Let’s get this show on the road before I change my mind and decide to take a nap instead.”

Rex chuckles, wrapping an arm around my waist. “You sure you’re up for this, Rem? We could always stay home and hand out candy instead.”

I shoot him a look. “As much as I would love to take you up on that, we both know that we will never hear the end of it if we miss the Halloween parade in the quarter. Birdie has been talking about it for weeks.”

“True,” Rex quips. “But I can handle Birdie if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

“I’ll be okay,” I assure him. Unlike Beaux, this pregnancy hasn’t been as easy. We’d had a few scares early on, but we are inching closer to the finish line now.

Rex nods, his eyes still filled with concern. “Alright, but tell me if you need to sit down or head home early, you hear?”

“Yes, dear,” I say, rolling my eyes but smiling. His protectiveness can be annoying at times, but I can’t deny it’s also comforting.

As we start gathering our things, Birdie tugs on Rex’s pant leg. “Daddy, can we get beignets after the parade? Pretty please?”

Rex glances at me, eyebrow raised in question. I shrug. “Why not? It’s Halloween, after all.”

“Alright, princess,” Rex says, scooping Birdie up. “Beignets it is. But only if you’re good during the parade, deal?”

“Deal!” Birdie squeals, wrapping her arms around Rex’s neck.

As we head out the door, Beaux falls into step beside me. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby. What’s up?”

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his scythe. “Do you think...do you think Dad will still want to hang out with me after the new baby comes?”

My heart clenches at the uncertainty in his tone. I stop, turning to face him. “Beaux, listen to me. Your daddy loves you more than anything in this world. Nothing, not even a new baby, is going to change that. This new addition to our family,” I pat my belly, “is just gonna be one more person to love you. They’ll need a good big brother to keep them safe.”

I pull him into a hug, careful not to smudge his face paint. “How about this? Why don’t you ask your dad if you two can have a special day together, just the two of you? I bet he’d love that.”

His face lights up at the suggestion. “Really? You think he’d want to?”

“I know he would,” I assure him, ruffling his hair. “Now come on, let’s catch up before your sister convinces your dad to buy out the entire beignet shop.”

We hurry to join Rex and Birdie, who are waiting by the car. Rex gives me a questioning look, but I shake my head slightly. We’ll talk about it later.

As we pile into the car, the excitement starts to build. Birdie’s chattering away about all the candy she’s going to get while Beaux practices his best scary voice. I can’t help but grin as we pull out of the driveway.

I glance over at Rex, expecting to see him rolling his eyes at the over-the-top decorations, but instead, his gaze is distant and unfocused. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white against the black leather. Something’s off.

“Rex?” I ask softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “You okay?”

He blinks, coming back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, but his eyes don’t quite meet mine.

As we turn onto a side street, the full spectacle of New Orleans’ Halloween celebration comes into view. The kids press their faces against the windows, oohing and aahing at the sights. But Rex remains silent, his jaw clenched tight. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, noticing how his gaze keeps darting to the rearview mirror as if checking to see if we’re being followed.

“Daddy, look at that pirate!” Birdie squeals, pointing out the window at a man in an elaborate Captain Hook costume.

Rex grunts in acknowledgment. I frown, studying his profile. Something is definitely not right.

As we near Jackson Square, the crowds thicken, forcing Rex to slow the car to a crawl. The air is permeated with the scent of pralines and spiced rum, mingling with the ever-present hint of decay that permeates the Quarter. Normally, it’s a smell I love - it means home. But tonight, it just adds to the growing unease in my gut.

“Hey, kiddos,” I say, turning to face the backseat. “Why don’t you play a game? See who can spot the most witches before we get to the parade route.”

Beaux and Birdie eagerly agree, their excited conversation filling the car once more. With the kids distracted, I turn back to Rex.

“What happened when you went to the clubhouse today?”

“Nothing happened.” Rex’s eyes flick to me briefly before returning to the road. “Everything’s fine, Rem.”

But I know better. His shoulders are rigid, his grip on the steering wheel still tight.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rex,” I press again. “I know you better than that.”

He sighs, “Rem, please. Not now. Let’s just enjoy the parade. We can talk about it after the kids go to bed.”

I bite my lip. Rex’s evasiveness is only heightening my concern. But he’s right. Now isn’t the time, not with the kids in the backseat.

“Fine,” I concede.

We finally reach a spot near the parade route where we can park. As Rex cuts the engine, I turn to the kids with a forced smile. “Alright, monsters, who’s ready for some Halloween fun?”

Birdie and Beaux cheer, their excitement momentarily pushing aside my worries.

Rex slides from his spot, and goes to Birdie’s side of the car, immediately scooping her up and perching her on his broad shoulders. “Hold on tight, princess,” he warns, his eyes tracking his surroundings. Beaux slides from his seat and settles next to my side.

He might not want to discuss what’s happening with the kids present, but he’s doing a poor job of concealing his anxiety from me. Just seeing Rex anxious is enough to make me wary.

I take Beaux’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “Stay close, okay?” I tell him, and he nods solemnly, his plastic scythe clutched tightly in his other hand.