Page 85 of Monstrosity
My photos join theirs on the walls, creating a visual timeline of our blended family.
"It looks like a real home now," Everly observes. "No offense, Rio, but your decorating style was totally 'bachelor with kids.'"
"I have decorations," he protests.
"Motorcycle posters don't count," Astrid informs him.
"They're vintage!"
"They're still posters."
"What about my leather?—"
"Also doesn't count."
"The skull collection?"
"Definitely doesn't count."
"Women," he mutters, but he's smiling.
By evening, everything's unpacked and in its place. The helpers have drifted away with hugs and promises of dinner soon. The girls are crashed on the couch, sugar high finally worn off, watching cartoons with glazed eyes.
"Bath time," I announce, getting predictable groans.
"But we're so tired," Cali whines.
"Ice cream hair needs washing," I say firmly. "Come on."
"Can we have bubbles?" she negotiates.
"All the bubbles."
"And toys?"
"Within reason."
"Deal."
I've done bedtime routine dozens of times, but tonight feels different.
Tonight, this is officially my house, my family, my life. No more guest status or temporary stays.
"Dasha?" Florencia asks as I'm tucking her in. "Are you happy?"
"So happy," I tell her. "Are you? Having me here all the time?"
"It's the best," she says simply. "Now you can't leave."
"Wasn't planning on it."
"Good. Because we need you."
"I need you too, baby."
She hugs me tight, and I breathe in her shampoo-and-little-girl scent. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Always."
