Page 39 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

I sighed, but I was exhausted and it was late. “Not tonight,” I groaned as I pulled myself off his bed, much to his protest. He tried holding me back, but I plucked his fingers off my arm and kissed them lightly.

“Wait! I’m thirsty. Really thirsty.”

“You already had water,” I said, standing. “It’s right there by your bed.”

He eyed the cup with suspicion. “It’s warm now. I need cold water.”

I bit down on the edge of my response and took his cup, walking to the kitchen, filling the cup again with colder water,and bringing it back. He took a single sip and declared, “Okay, now my tummy hurts.”

“Cal, sweetheart, you’re fine. No more stories. No more distractions. Close your eyes.” Leo was waiting for me to finish tucking him in, and I felt so stressed I might snap and shout at him, which I really didn’t want to do.

“But what if I dream about the sea monster? What if it eats the ship and I’m on it and?—”

I leaned in and kissed his temple. “Then you’ll be the hero who saves everyone. Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right outside.” Reaching up, I flicked off the light on his bedside table, leaving only the glow from his nightlight to keep him company.

He frowned but settled into the pillow with exaggerated reluctance, mumbling something about needing to know if the sea monster was going to eat him, and I walked toward the door.

Meanwhile, Leo stood in the hallway, holding a half-empty juice box and looking guilty. “Mama,” he said quietly, “I spilled.”

I crouched in front of him. “Where?” My eyes raked over his red-stained cheeks, and I tried not to be upset or grumpy with him.

He turned and pointed to the front of his dinosaur pajamas, soaked and sticky. “Everywhere.”

I groaned softly and reached for him. “Okay, come on. We need to get you changed.”

This was how a lot of my nights went, though none of them had ever come after such a challenging day at work. It was days like this I started to convince myself that telling Dominic the truth was the only option. Because I needed help raising these kids. Thea had a life of her own and she wouldn’t always be here. And pretty soon, spilled juice and delayed bedtime would be girl trouble and driving lessons. And I wasn’t ready for any of it.

The second I started unbuttoning Leo’s pajama top, he burst into fresh tears. “But I wanted to sleep in dinos!”

“I know you did, buddy, but they’re wet. You’ll be cold. We’ll wear the rockets tonight, and you can wear dinos tomorrow.” I tugged the pajama top over his head, but he clung to it fiercely and shouted at me.

“But I want dinos now!”

“How about this? Rockets tonight, pancakes in the morning.” My patience was wearing thin, and I knew if I didn’t get him in bed and pour myself a glass of wine, I might really snap.

He sniffed. “With chocolate chips?”

“Yes. And whipped cream.”

His tears slowed, and he let me change him into the clean set, arms sagging at his sides as the fight left him. Once he was zipped up and dry, he climbed into bed with a sigh and pulled his stuffed hippo to his chest.

“Don’t forget pancakes.”

“Never,” I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shutting off his light and making my way out of the bedroom. “Goodnight, Leo,” I said, pulling the door shut.

“Night,” he whispered.

I felt wrung out, like every thread holding me together had been tugged too many times. My limbs ached from crouching beside the bed, and my head buzzed with the static of unfinished thoughts. I wasn’t tired in the way sleep could fix—I was emptied out, like I’d run out of buffers between my emotions and the surface. Stretched thin didn’t even begin to cover it. Parenting through exhaustion had become second nature, but tonight felt heavier somehow.

Thea was curled on the couch with her laptop, but her eyes flicked up the second I stepped into the room. She didn’t offer her usual smile or quip. Instead, she watched me, her expression still but alert, her gaze tightening on me. There was no warmth in her face now, no trace of the easy sarcasm she usually ledwith. She was reading me, quietly piecing together what I was stressed about but hadn’t brought up yet.

“They down?”

“Barely. Cal wanted a third chapter of the sea monster one, and Leo staged a full protest about pajamas.” The wine was in my glass, compliments of my best friend who knew me better than anyone in this world.

“Savage.”

I gave a tired smile and collapsed into the armchair across from her. The cushions sighed under my weight, and I let my head fall back. The room was warm and quiet except for the groan of the dishwasher cycling in the background. It should have felt peaceful, but it didn’t.

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