She cried, kicking and screaming under the mess.
After digging her out of what had to be Charlotte’s entire winter wardrobe, I scooped her up to sit on my hip. “Hey. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”
Suddenly, the bedroom door flung open and an honest-to-God zombie came stumbling in.
Her hair was in tangles and sticking out in all directions, and she fought a losing battle with her lids in an attempt to open her eyes in the bright light. “Travis!” she called, sleep muffling her voice.
“Right here.” He laughed, swinging a humor-filled smile my way.
She clutched her chest. “Are you okay?”
He laughed louder. “I’m good. You…uh…slept late.”
“Jesus, what time is it?” Her gaze slowly slid to me, and then her whole body jerked. “Shit. I forgot you were here.”
“And good morning to you too, beautiful.” Chuckling, I walked over and kissed her forehead. Using my free hand, I smoothed her hair down. “You look particularly stunning this morning. You sleep well?”
She curled into my side. “I don’t even know what day it is.”
“That’s a good sign.” I glanced up and found Travis watching us closely, his eyes aimed at her hand casually resting on my stomach.
And then, like a lightning bolt had struck her, she jerked again. “Oh my God. Did you go all night without a breathing treatment?”
“I took care of it,” I announced.
“Oh.” She peered up at me. “You should have woken me up. I tweaked his medication last—”
“I saw.”
“Yeah, but…”
I squeezed her hip. “Seriously, Charlotte. For as meticulously as you had everything laid out, Hannah could have administered it.”
Travis laughed. “She so could have.”
“Well, it’s always better to be prepared. Things can get confusing in the middle of the night.”
I smirked. “I know. I could barely concentrate over your snores from the couch.”
Travis cackled and folded over on the bed.
“I don’t snore!”
I gave her a teasing side-eye. “You sure about that?”
Swinging her head between Travis and me, she defended, “I don’t!”
Travis decided to get in on the joke. “I don’t know, Charlotte. That’s not the way it sounded in here.”
Her mouth fell open, but her smile showed around it. “Don’t you dare side with him.”
Travis kept the joke going for longer than it was funny, but judging by Charlotte’s grin and my boy’s howls of laughter, neither of them minded.
“Fine. I might have snored. But you keep rubbing it in and I won’t be making pancakes for breakfast.”
“Breakfast? It’s, like, lunch!” He laughed.
She planted her hands on her hips in the most dramatic, non-Charlotte way possible and shot back, “Fine. You keep it up and I won’t make pancakes for lunch.”
I couldn’t help but stare. She’d always been so dry and unreadable. But, right then, bantering with our son, she was downright playful. I guessed that was what she looked like when she was happy.
And Christ, she was beautiful.
I lifted a hand in Travis’s direction to silence him. “Whoa. Okay, chill. Let’s not get crazy. I’m going to need to eat more than a bowl of Cheerios today.”
“Oh, I didn’t say I was making any for you.” She smiled, and then her eyes flashed wide as she leaned to the side to see around me. “Wow! What happened there?” She pointed at the mess in her closet.
“Sorry about that. Hannah got tangled in your clothes. I’ll fix it…after pancakes.”
Hannah’s head snapped up off my shoulder, and she looked to Charlotte, whispering, “There’s a man in your closet.”
Charlotte waved her off. “Nah. That’s just Ian. He’s harmless.”
I closed one eye, cupped a hand to my ear, and leaned toward her. “I’m sorry. Did you say Ian?”
“Yeah. Ian Somerhalder,” she answered like it wasn’t the most ludicrous thing I’d ever heard come out of her mouth.
“You have some guy named Ian in your closet?” I clarified, because really, what the hell else was there to say?
Upon stepping over the mountain of clothes, she dug into the back of her closet and pulled out a life-size cutout of some dude with his arms crossed, his steely-blue, cardboard, smoldering gaze staring out into oblivion.
“What. Is. That?” Travis asked, rising from the bed to inspect the absurdity.
She shrugged. “Apparently, he plays a vampire on some TV show. The residents at the hospital gave this guy to me for my birthday. They used to call me a vampire because I worked such long hours at night.”
I stared in awe at a woman I was suddenly realizing I didn’t know at all. “And you kept him? In your closet, like a dirty little secret?”
She grinned up at him. “What can I say? He has pretty eyes.”
I barked a laugh and set my wiggling daughter on her feet so she, too, could check our newest guest out. “You know who else has pretty eyes?” I hooked my thumb at my chest. “Me. Your boyfriend, remember?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Aren’t you a little old to be using the term boyfriend?”
“Woman, you have a nearly six-foot cardboard cutout of a TV vampire in your closet. I’m not sure you are in any position to be discussing age-appropriate behavior right now.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, but not even her glare could hide her humor. “Did you seriously just call me woman?”
I mirrored her posture. “Did you seriously just produce a flat man out of your closet?”
“Oh my God.” She giggled. “Are you jealous? Of a piece of cardboard?”
“Pshh…no,” I replied, twisting my lips and looking to Travis for backup.
He gave me none.
“He’s totally jealous,” he said, tipping his head back to look at Charlotte.
Hannah patted her on the leg. “Are you really a vampire?”
“No,” I answered. “She’s a poor woman with a very serious hoarding problem.” I plucked the stupid cutout from her hands. “And we are going to help her with this by tossing Ian here to the curb.”
“You are not!” Charlotte exclaimed, grabbing the man’s feet.
“Oh, but I am,” I whispered.
Tug-of-war ensued. And, while I wasn’t jealous in the least, I was having so much fun watching her interact with the kids that I would have kept the charade up for the rest of my life.
There was a woman I’d never thought I’d be able to get into the same room with my kids and she was joining forces with them against me. I fucking loved it.
“Porter, stop!” She laughed as I started toward the door, Ian firmly in my grasp, her dragging behind us.
“He’s going to the dumpster,” I declared.
Travis held her hips to try to help, and Hannah grabbed her brother’s hips to complete the chain of people I loved. (Well, minus Ian, of course.)
“I’m willing to negotiate for his safety!” Charlotte laughed.
I froze but kept my hold on Ian tight. Arching an eyebrow, I said, “I’m listening.”
Smiling, she bent and whispered something in Travis’s ear.
“I want to hear!” Hannah cried, bouncing on her toes.
Travis scrubbed his chin while staring off into space. “I like this plan,” he said.
Partitioning her mouth off, Charlotte whispered what I assumed was the same thing in Hannah’s ear.
Her whole face lit, her brown eyes dancing with what could only be described as pure joy.
“We are prepared to offer the addition of chocolate chips to the pancakes in exchange for Ian’s safe return,” Charlotte said.
I gave the cardboard cutout a sharp tug. “No deal.”
“Come on, Dad!” Travis whined.
Putting a hand up to quiet him, Charlotte sucked in a long breath through her nose. With the most beautiful blank face I’d ever seen, she asked, “What if we were willing to add sausage on the side?”