Page 35 of His Relentless Angel

“Aunt BeeBee!” Lainey knocks harder on the door than Grayson did. “Aunt Autumn says Grandpa will be here any minute with donuts and kolaches for breakfast. She said you probably stink and need a shower before he gets here.”

“You stink, too, Devilainey,” Grayson teases from the other side.

“Shut up, you’re the one who stinks like rotten mayonnaise farts!”

There’s a thump from the other side, and Grayson shouts, “Stop kicking me!”

I’d whip the door open to separate them if I weren’t buck naked with their Aunt BeeBee.

Then, there’s a solid knock coming from the front door. Bailey’s right—the insulation in this house is shit if we can hear everything going on from the privacy of the locked bedroom.

At least half the kids scream, “Grandpa!” while the others scream, “Donuts!”

“Shit, shit, shit! You have to go,” Bailey hisses in a whisper with panic, shoving me off of her and grabbing my pants and underwear from the floor to throw them at me.

“Where? How?”

“The window.” She darts into the avocado-green bathroom and turns on the shower and exhaust fan, then runs back. She unlocks the window and shoves it open, immediately letting in a blast of thick air, even this early in the day.

“Fucking hell, we’re acting like teenagers, sneaking in and out so our parents don’t catch us. I’m too old for this.” I grab her hand and pull her close. “I think it’s time we tell him.”

“Are you nuts? You want to waltz right out into the living room and tell my dad that we’re together? While he’s worried about Shayla? And there’s, like, a hundred kids around to watch their grandpa go ballistic?”

“Well, shit, when you put it that way…” I hurry to pull on my clothes while Bailey slides my glasses onto my face. She plants a rushed kiss on my lips, then tries to shove me toward the window. “Ok, ok, I’m going.” I wrap an arm around her back and force a slower kiss. “But I’m coming right back.”

The window slams closed behind me after I twist my body into unnatural angles to get through it, and I land with a thud in the grass. It would have been so much more convenient if James and Shayla’s bedroom faced the front yard. As it is, I wait for the right moment to run past the kitchen to get to the opposite end of the house since there’s only one gate in the tall wooden fence.

My heart damn near stops beating in my chest when I spot Sherman snap his head up at the window above the kitchen sink like he heard something, and then someone from inside the house shouts—probably Lainey kicking Grayson again—drawing his attention away. I sprint toward the side with the gate as soon as his head is turned, then across the quiet street, thankful that no one is out on the road since I didn’t even look both ways before doing so.

I smile to myself, thinking I made it home free, almost to the walkway leading up to the Fischer house when Sherman yells from behind me, “Isaiah!”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn. Sherman is standing in the open doorway of the Bartlett house, holding his car keys.

“Oh, hey, Sherman.” I wave, and we both kind of just stand there awkwardly for a long moment, staring at each other without saying anything.

When he finally approaches the end of the Bartlett walkway that leads to his car parked at the curb, I stay rooted to the spot, no fucking clue what I should do. Every part of me is screaming that I need to just rip the Bandaid off. It’s not right hiding my relationship from my best friend and future father-in-law like this. I want everyone in the world—most importantly, him—to know about us. The small voice in my head, though, says it would be worse to go back on my word to Bailey, and I don’t want to upset her or test her trust in me.

Sherman walks around his new dark blue Toyota Crown Signia in his black three-piece suit and brogue Oxfords as if he just dropped by with breakfast on the way to work. He leans against the driver’s side door and crosses his arms. “What are you doing out here?”

I scratch the back of my head, trying to think of an excuse—Bailey and I really are shit at this—when I spot a man running behind a double-jogging stroller heading our way. “Just got back from a run.” I pretend to stretch my hamstrings to make the lie more convincing, digging out another chunk of my integrity.

His eyes drop to my feet. “Barefoot?”

“Fuck.” What the hell do I say now? I drag my hands down my face.

He straightens and drops his arms. “What the hell is going on?”

“Look, Sherman—”

“Daddy! I thought you said you were getting more donuts? They’re like a pack of starving beasts in there.” Standing in the open doorway in her shirt and shorts with damp hair, Bailey hikes a thumb over her shoulder.

Sherman sucks his teeth and shouts, “Be right back, sweetheart.” After Bailey closes the door, he returns his gaze to me. “You coming over for breakfast with the family?”

“Sure, sure. Just need to get showered and changed.”

“All right, then.”

I let my head hang back on my shoulders, breathing out a long sigh after he drives away before I drag myself to the front door. I still have Miranda’s house keys in my pocket, so I let myself inside and drop them in her woven handbag. Assuming Miranda and Brady are at the Bartlett house, I’m not quiet as I make my way to Autumn’s bedroom to get a fresh change of clothes. I barely hold back a grunt and clutch my chest when Miranda steps right in front of me in the dark hallway.

---