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“Yeah, we put him to bed about an hour ago,” Caroline says. With a shake of her head and soft smile, she adds, “That was after two and a half bedtime stories that he managed to con out of me.”
“You say that every night, and yet you always give in,” Nate chides, but his gentle tone and own smile rob the sting out of his words.
Their love for their only grandchild is as obvious as the sadness that lingers in both of their gazes. At least, obvious to me. Due to complications with Kendra’s birth, Nate and Caroline couldn’t have any more children, and they spoiled her. It’s a wonder she didn’t end up a rotten bitch. Kendra would laugh when I said that to her. It says a lot about the kind of people the Talleys are that they raised a wonderful, grounded daughter. And now, with her gone, they’ve transferred even more of that love and protective nature to her son.
Not that I can complain. There are eighty-two games in a hockey season, and half of those are away. Without them caring for Khalil when I’m on the road, I don’t know what I would do. Mom still lives in North Preston, and though I could hire a nanny, knowing he’s with family when I’m not here comforts me. Eases the guilt of somehow failing him as his only living parent. Fuck, sometimes I feel like such a poor substitute.
“It’s”—I glance down at the royal blue face of my Rolex Datejust—“ten after nine. I hate to wake him up, but it’s been nine days since I’ve seen him.”
“Why don’t you go up, peek in on him, and then take the guest room across from his? He’s asleep, and it’d be a shame to wake him up, get him dressed, and make him leave. This way, we can all have breakfast in the morning before you go.”
Even though there’s nothing more I want than to sleep in my own house, in my own bed, with my boy in his bedroom, there’s a faint plea in Caroline’s voice that I can’t ignore. And they watch him like he’s their own; I can give her—them—this.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Let me text Graham and let him know we’re staying.”
As I pull my phone from the inside pocket of my suit jacket, Nate claps me on the shoulder.
“Good. And after you’re settled in, come on down to the kitchen. We had Lenny prepare a plate for you since we figured you might be hungry when you arrived. We can talk while you eat.”
Irritation pricks at my skin. If they had their chef already fix a plate, then they’d already planned on me and Khalil staying the night without asking me. That’s the shit that is getting on my nerves more and more. I’m Khalil’s father, his parent. But at times, they overstep, make decisions for him, for us, without consulting me. It’s ungrateful as shit to be annoyed, considering all they do for the both of us, but ... I swallow down the aggravation. But nothing. They’re right about taking Khalil out after he was already down for the night, and I can’t be mad at their thoughtfulness in feeding me.
I sound like a real bitch right now.
“Sounds good. Be right back.”
As I stride out of the room, I head toward the stairs, then climb them two at a time. After turning right, I approach the closed door of the second bedroom on the right. I carefully ease open the door and quietly move inside, my breath catching in my chest at the sight of myson sprawled like a starfish on his custom-madeBlack Pantherbed. HisAvengersblanket covers one side of his small sturdy body while a thin arm and leg stick out from under it. Tight curls that are a blend of his mother’s dark brown and my lighter shade crown his head, and his walnut-colored skin gleams in the muted glow of his night-light. Thick lashes hide eyes that he inherited from me and my father.
God, I love this little boy.
I clench my jaw, battling back the sting of tears. It’s moments like these when I feel Kendra’s absence the sharpest. When Khalil was first born until he was several months old, Kendra would sneak into his room at night and put a finger under his nose, checking to make sure he still breathed. I used to tease her about that until ... until after she was gone, and I found myself doing the same thing.
Sighing, I near his bed, kneel down, and pull the cover completely over him, tucking all his limbs back in. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake; once Khalil is out, he’s out, and only a natural disaster could wake him. Maybe.
Placing a kiss on his forehead, I breathe in his scent of the lavender soap Caroline uses on him as well as the shea butter she rubs into his skin every night. A few moments later, I rise, sliding his Black Panther doll next to him. When I return downstairs, my duffel bag is waiting in the foyer, where Graham must’ve deposited it. My stomach grumbles at that moment, making the decision for me about whether to take the luggage up to the guest room now or head to the kitchen.
Head to the kitchen it is.
Like the rest of the house, the Talleys’ kitchen is a work of art. Beautiful granite counters, top-of-the-line appliances, mahogany floors, big bay windows, a marble island, and a breakfast nook with a table large enough to seat a family of eight. Out the windows stretches a huge yard, complete with a stone patio, built-in firepit, a grill, and furniture. A pool, covered for the season, sits behind the entertainment area. Professionally landscaped trees and shrubbery provide privacy.
“Here you go, Solomon.” Caroline sets a plate piled with baked chicken, green beans, and cabbage on the table. The delicious aroma has my stomach growling louder, and I beat it to take a seat. “Let me get you something to drink. Water? Wine? A beer?”
“Water is fine, thank you.” I smile at her, picking up my fork. Not wasting time, I dig in. And moan around the first mouthful of food. Lenny can cook his ass off, even with something as simple as baked chicken and vegetables. I ate before we left Vegas to come home, but that was hours ago. “Please thank Lenny for me. He put his foot in this.” I point my fork toward my plate before shoveling more cabbage in my mouth.
“I will, honey,” she says, setting a glass of cold water in front of my plate, then rounding the table and sinking into a chair across from me.
Nate takes the seat next to her, and they sip coffee as I eat.
“Solomon, I wanted to wait until you got home to speak with you about that article and picture going around on the gossip sites and social media,” Nate says, his gaze trained on me over the rim of his cup.
He sips from it and lowers the mug to the table, I guess waiting on me to say something, but I ain’t got shit for him. That flare of irritation flickers again, hotter this time. I’m not this kid that he can call on the carpet. Team owner or not. Son-in-law or not.
“We just don’t want people to get the wrong impression, honey,” Caroline chimes in, leaning across the table and laying a hand over mine. “It’s not just you we’re worried about; it’s Khalil, the team. Rumors have a nasty way of turning and becoming true in people’s eyes. And we don’t want to see anyone get hurt by something that’s a nonissue.”
“I don’t see how anyone could get hurt by a picture.” I continue eating, that irritation growing wings, blowing into embers of anger.
Doesn’t matter that I’d already decided that kiss was a mistake and wouldn’t be repeated. Doesn’t matter that there isn’t anything between me and Adina. They don’t know any of that. But still, it has me hot that they’d relegate her to something as demeaning, as inconsequential as a “nonissue.”
“We kept Khalil from seeing anything online, but he has friends in kindergarten who mentioned his daddy having a girlfriend. Probably something they heard from their parents. We can’t protect him from everything, as hard as we try,” Caroline says. “He asked us about it, and we explained as best as we could about how people can make up things, but I don’t know if he fully grasps what we meant. So he may come to you as well, and you’ll need to make it clear that there’s nothing there and he doesn’t need to be worried.”
