Page 28 of Quinton's Quest

While they ate, I heated up the savory food and consumed it at a pace to keep up with the kids. By the end, my belly was full, and the kids had chocolate smeared on their faces. “Let me take a picture to send to Daddy and Archer.” I snagged my phone.

“And Lucky?” Melodie met my gaze with her fathomless blue eyes.

“Yes, and Lucky.” I snapped a picture and texted it to Gideon, ensuring that I expressed that the photo was for the dog as well. From our earliest days with the children, I’d sworn to never lie to them.

A fool’s errand—but I did my best to keep that promise.

A moment later, my phone buzzed with an incoming text.

I held the phone for Melodie and Trevor to see.

A very dejected Lucky sat on the couch and looked mournfully into the camera.

My first instinct was annoyance—if the kids thought the dog was missing them, they might insist on being taken back. Another commitment I’d made was, whenever possible, to be flexible. I wasn’t ever going to make them choose.

“Lucky looks sad.” Melodie bit her lower lip.

“And he’ll be happy on Sunday when you go back.” I put the phone on the counter, wet a washcloth, and set about cleaning faces. “Okay—brush your teeth and go into Trevor’s room. I’ll read you a story.”

“Three?” Melodie batted her eyelashes.

“One.”

“Two?” This time, Trevor spoke up.

“Depends how long they are.” I might’ve been exhausted, but I’d give the kids at least fifteen minutes.

“Yay.” Melodie grinned.

“Brush your teeth.” I gestured toward the back of the house where the bedrooms were. I’d opted for a rancher with a walkout basement. The selling feature really was the yard—almost three acres. Mostly wooded, thank God, so I didn’t have to worry about maintenance. The house was older and could do with some modernizing, but it fit the budget of a surgeon who had barely finished paying off his student loans and had managed to scrapetogether the down payment. When we’d sold the townhouse in Surrey, Gideon had told me he didn’t need his share.

After witnessing Archer’s quiet wealth, I understood why he said that. Plus, he owned the cabin left to him by his beloved grandfather.

I wasn’t selfish enough to take the money. We’d contributed equally to the townhouse and rightfully half of the small proceeds were his. He’d said something about putting the money away for university funds for the kids. I didn’t have a problem with that.

Wearily, I put all the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped the counter. Then I headed to the bathroom to find Melodie industriously brushing while Trevor struggled. Understandable, given he was only four.

“Let me help?”

He nodded.

Relief flooded me. Sometimes he’d get super stubborn and refuse my help. Tonight, though, he appeared grateful for it.

Within ten minutes, everyone was ready for bed.

I lay in the middle of Trevor’s bed, propped against the headboard. With each child tucked against me, I began reading.

By the third story, the kids were out cold.

I extricated myself from Trevor’s grasp, then I carried Melodie to her room and tucked her into bed. She was nearly seven years old, and soon I wouldn’t be able to carry her like this. That thought gave my heart a knock. As much as I understood that kids had to grow up, I much preferred if they’d just stay small for the rest of their lives. Somehow, irrationally, I believed I could protect them if they just remained tiny.

After doing everything I had to—and almost falling asleep while brushing my teeth—I climbed into bed. Barely seven-thirty, and the kids would be down for at least ten hours. Both played hard, dropped quickly, and stayed down. We’d enduredtwo Trevor nightmares since moving in, so I’d take that for a win.

Sleep wasn’t coming.

Being aware of sleep hygiene, I didn’t keep a television in my bedroom. I could go out to the living room, of course. With the kids’ doors closed, they weren’t likely to wake up.

Too fucking much effort.