Page 16 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

FOX

Is it cruel to taunt Christian Watkins using the tools I gathered throughout nine-ish years of co-parenting Franklin Page?

Or am I doing him a favor, seeing as how no one else seems to want to help the dude grow out of his tight-fitting, overly controlled life where Tommy protects and Alana mothers?

Jesus. It’s not like eating without his favorite fork will kill the guy.

“I’ve just turned the TV on and settled Franky on the couch.” I meander into Tommy and Alana’s kitchen and pause against the doorframe, folding my arms and dialing in on the show an aesthetically pleasing man puts on, not only cooking my dinner, but cleaning the dishes, too.

He bends over the sink, running his hands through hot, soapy water, and washes each piece one by one, despite the perfectly good dishwasher situated just five feet to his left.

Hell, maybe he needed a little more time with his beloved fork.

“Franky’s doing Murdles and watching a show.”

“Did he have a shower and change into pyjamas?” He peeks over his shoulder, though he doesn’t turn all the way around, and pins me with a pair of too-intense eyes.

He feels too much, I think. He gets caught up in anger too quickly, and sadness way too easily.

Love— as with Alana and Franky —too completely, and worst of all, worries about the what ifs too freely.

“He’s normally in bed by now. We ran a little late outside. ”

“Nine o’clock is his regular bedtime. It’s not even ten yet. It’s the weekend, and this is a special occasion, so I doubt it matters. ”

“It matters to someone who relies on routine and predictability.”

“You mean you?” I drop my arms and wander around to lean against the counter, and since I’m a nice person— I keep saying so —I grab a towel and select a plate to dry. “Believe it or not, but Franky is able to deviate from routine sometimes. It might be uncomfortable, but he can do it.”

“Why would you want to make him uncomfortable? You say you love the kid. If that were true, you should want him to be happy.”

“It’s about short-term versus long-term goals. Being comfortable is fun and all, but growth is achieved when we’re out of that comfort zone. Either he steps out voluntarily, or I’ll shove him out. Regardless, the long-term benefits far outweigh the short-term crankiness.”

I’m talking about you, too, jackass.

“You never think to expand your horizons and grow?”

“My entire childhood was uncomfortable.” He focuses intently on his task, scrubbing a plate, though the damn thing is already clean.

“I no longer wish to feel uncomfortable , like my blood is on fire or my skin is too tight. I’ve done my time.

I’m an adult now and in charge of my own life, so I figure comfortable is exactly where I’ll park my ass for the next eighty years. ”

“Shame.” I click my tongue and run the soft side of the towel over the back of my plate. “My fondest adventures were had while I was uncomfortable as hell.”

Unimpressed, he purses his lips. “Which ones?”

“Like, meeting a scared girl with a baby in her belly who needed a friend. I could have easily sent her packing, since that’s a hell of a mess I didn’t need to get involved in, and God knows, I was already kinda overloaded with my own bullshit.

Still, I chose to jump in and create a family with that girl and her baby boy.

Now look at me…” I flash a mischievous smirk, “rewarded with this conversation.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I clawed my way into a college I couldn’t afford, with a brain I wasn’t sure could keep up, and begged for every scrap of financial aid I could find.

Hell, I invented scholarships, pitching myself to businesses until they gave me money.

Comfortable would have been to become just like my mother.

Instead, I busted my ass studying until I wanted to scream and raised a baby with my best friend, so when I walked that stage, I was rewarded with both of them clapping for me.

After graduation, I took a leap of faith and nagged a friend for a job, which was pretty uncomfortable for both of us, but I was relentless in my desire for a better life, and I’d already had practice making shit up.

They didn’t need a new team member in marketing, but morale at Gable, Gains, and Hemingway was pretty low, and being on the fifty-first floor was a recipe for disaster.

So I invented a whole new job and vowed to make it work. ”

“Chief happiness officer,” he drawls. “Just because you keep saying it doesn’t make it real.”

“Dude, you wrestle with sweaty men for a living! If you insist on throwing stones, I suggest you don’t be the guy performing soft-core porn.”

“You— He—” His face burns a dangerous, angry red. “It’s not soft-core porn!”

“I’m not judging your life choices,” I tease. “I just wish you’d be more open about who you really are. True happiness begins with self-acceptance.”

“My gym is a world-class training center!” He’s horrified. Indignant. Sooooo offended. “We produce world champions, Fox! And what the hell kind of name is that, anyway? Made up job, made up name.”

He’s so ridiculously easy to goad.

I finish with my plate and move on to the next.

“My name was picked by people who may or may not have been strung out on crack at the time. Fortunately, I don’t hate it enough to change it.

And my job—while I admit to pulling it out of my ass and hoping for the best—comes with data that proves my efforts matter.

Staff morale is up, and GGH is not only a wildly successful company with an annual turnover of two hundred million smackeroos, but it’s viciously sought after by applicants searching for employment.

They line up out the door and around the block…

on a Tuesday, when we don’t even have a position available. ”

“It’s a made-up job!”

“Kind of like professional fighting, I suppose.” Smiling, I study his eyes.

“If we were in Rome and the Colosseum was operational, then maybe you’d have a reason to train.

Or if you were a stuntman in Hollywood, I suppose that would validate what you do.

But there are no kingdoms to fight for anymore.

You won’t conquer a country in the octagon.

You won’t win a princess’s hand in marriage. ”

“What are you even talking about?”

“ Why does fighting exist? It’s no longer a skill we need, and there are no wars that’ll be won by hand-to-hand, rolling-around-on-the-floor combat. If you insist on throwing stones and picking at my job, then be prepared to admit the same about yours.”

He’s like a bull filling with rage, expanding with hot air and a need to explode. But all he manages is a grunt of exasperation. “You’re infuriating! ”

“I know. I’m pretty proud of it, actually.”

“You took my fork on purpose to annoy me.”

“Yeah.” I select the fork from the drying tray and run the towel along its smooth edges.

“I did. You could’ve taken it back by force, or you could’ve walked to your house and gotten another.

You could’ve used the one I gave you, or stolen Franky’s.

” I lean closer and whisper, “I have it on good authority that he can’t fight for shit. ”

His eyes shoot toward the living room doorway, then back to mine.

“You had a million options tonight at dinner. I wanted to see which one you’d choose. Gotta say,” I smirk, “I didn’t expect you to eat with your hands.”

“You call a truce, but irritate me anyway?”

“Truce, in that I won’t push you in front of a speeding train. Irritating you is for my own personal enjoyment. But don’t get your feelings hurt, because I irritate Franky, too. Growth is a good thing.”

“I don’t want to grow! I don’t want to expand my horizons or become a better person or be schooled by some made-up chief happiness officer bullshit. I’m happy exactly how I am.”

“Which brings us right back to where we began: some of my best adventures were had while I was uncomfortable.” I tilt to the side and tap his shoulder with mine.

“Being in Plainview is uncomfortable for me. My welcoming party would have had me back on that plane before I could take a whiff of the cool mountain air, my driver consistently and only expresses scorn, my best friend’s future brother-in-law tells me I’m unwanted?—”

“All of those people are me.”

“I know.” I set his special fork down and move on to the next.

“The townspeople treat me like I’m less welcome than a puss-filled pimple on their backsides, constantly asking when I’m leaving again.

And the town itself seems intent on destroying my toes with every door jamb, set of drawers, and curb it owns.

Personally, I’m accustomed to late-night dining and shopping until my heart is content.

I’m literally the only white person in my building in New York, and every building surrounding mine is the same.

Yet, I haven’t seen a single human since being here that didn’t look like they came from the same set of grandparents. ”

He stares down his nose and into my eyes. “You think Plainview isn’t good enough for you?”

“ Think? Plainview is the butthole on the front of Satan’s chin dimple, and nothing will ever change my mind on the matter.

I get that this town is set in its ways, and those ways were set in stone a hundred years ago.

You’re male, an adult, a successful business owner, and an influential citizen, which makes existing pretty damn comfortable for you.

You live with privilege, Christian, and that privilege could mean good things for this town.

Sadly, that makes your abhorrence for change especially tragic.

But…” I shrug and start working on the knives.

“You know how I feel about my discomfort. I wonder what good will come of this visit?”

He raises a single, arched brow.

“The answer is easy, really. Alana and Tommy’s baby girl will be here soon, which, in itself, is amazing.

Plus, I get to spend six weeks of quality time with Franky.

I know how you feel about all this, and God knows, you hate having to share.

But before he was yours, he was mine.” I slide the soft material along the dull side of the blade.

“It’s like Alana and I got a divorce, except no one really cares that I’m missing the baby I helped raise. ”

“Have you said any of this to Alana?”

“And break her heart?” I scoff. “I have no desire to cause that woman even a single shred of pain when I know she already carries so much. Besides, I know his life here is amazing.”

“He hates the rooster. Loathes that motherfucker.”

I cough out a laugh and place the dried knife on the counter.

“Besides the chicken, then. Wherever Alana is happy, he’s happy.

And as long as they’re happy, I’ll deal.

Though I sure as hell intend to soak up my six weeks and enjoy that little boy.

And when the baby’s here, I’m gonna snuggle her, too.

When Alana’s feeling better, I’ll tackle her to the ground and hug her until she begs me to stop, because that’s how fiercely I miss her.

I intend to take these six weeks to get to know Tommy better, since I only really know what Alana has told me.

And then…” I draw a long breath, filling my lungs.

“Well…” I exhale again. “Then there’s you. ”

He pulls back and blinks. Blinks. Blinks. “Me?”

“I look forward to irritating the ever-loving shit out of you over the next six weeks, Christian. Because you’re a really fun, easy target, and you could do with a little discomfort.

Who knows, I might annoy you just enough to force you to use your powers for good.

Making a change, even a teeny tiny little one, could help this town move toward the twenty-first century.

” I set my towel on the counter beside the dry plates, then I brush my fingertips across the ball of his shoulder and thrill in the way his arm locks up, and the muscle turns rock hard.

“If you won’t step out of your comfort zone for you, consider doing it for those who aren’t white, male, and successful.

Who knows? If Plainview wasn’t so ass-backward ten years ago, maybe an eighteen-year-old Alana could’ve stayed, supported by a community who had her back, instead of running away, terrified of what had been done to her. ”

I drop my hand and leave him to finish the dishes on his own. Sauntering into the living room, I find Franky exactly where I left him, his hair still wet, and his oversized pyjamas drowning his body.

He’s not a baby anymore—though I think I miss that most of all—nor is he a full-grown man.

He’s just a boy, caught in the middle where he still needs adults to help him along, but with a brain of someone far exceeding his age.

I flip the living room light out in silence, startling him from his book and earning a scowl, then I crawl onto the couch and drag him into my side until he comes, languid and loose, draping his arm across my stomach and resting his cheek on my chest.

“I didn’t finish my Murdle yet, Aunt Fox.”

“I miss you, even when you’re in the other room.” I kiss the top of his head and suck down the emotion set on making me out to be a fool. He’s not my child. And no matter my feelings on the matter, I don’t get to keep him. “Did you have a fun day today?”

“It was okay.” He pushes his book away and peels his glasses off, then he fingers the frayed hem of my shorts, exhaling a long, lazy sigh. “You made Chris really cranky with that fork. Did you know?”

I snort and rest my lips on his forehead. “Yeah, honey. I know. I did it on purpose.”

“I would get mad if you took my fork.”

“I know.” I slide my hand over his hipbone and bring my focus to the television. He’s watching MythBusters. “But you would still love me, even if I annoyed you.”

He nods, though the movement is subtle. “Is that a question?”

“No. Family loves each other, no matter what. Well, ours, anyway. And luckily for me, family doesn’t always have to share DNA.”

“Like us.”

“Exactly like us. And honestly?” I inch back and search his tired eyes. “I love you more than every single other person on this planet whose DNA matches mine. I love you more than all of them combined.”

He exhales, smiling and sighing until two deep dimples pop in his cheeks. And because it’s late, his eyes flicker closed. “I love you, too. I’m glad you’re visiting.”