Page 70 of Single Omega Dad
They came down the hall to the living room and found me, each one climbing into my lap.
I set my phone aside and held them close, kissing each on his forehead.
“Daddy,” said Tybor, his little hand pressed gently to the top of my belly. “When is the babies coming?”
“A little while longer. Why? Are you eager to see them?”
He nodded. “It will be fun to play with them.”
“Are you going to be the best big brother?”
“No!” Luke exclaimed to my left. “I will! I’ll be the best!”
“I will!” Tybor argued.
“I know you both will.” I leaned forward and they slid to the floor, letting me get up.
“Now, what do you want for lunch?”
“Peanut butter!” Tybor exclaimed.
“Chicken and stars!” Luke said, clapping his hands together.
“Hmm. Maybe we can have a little of both?”
“Yay!” They jumped up and down and ran ahead of me into the kitchen.
I glanced at my phone on the couch pillow and picked it up. No new texts.
My eyes misted over. I blinked away the dampness.Mathias, damn you, I miss you.
I saw him in my mind’s eye, standing with his shirt undone, his flat abs exposed, his dark skin glowing. His head was turned away as if he couldn’t look at me for some reason, as if he were gazing off at something over his shoulder that was distracting him, interrupting him, upsetting him. It made his demeanor even darker, and his emotional walls dense. The bond between us sparked and vibrated, but low-key and intermittent. I had to concentrate to feel and maintain it.
My boys called me, needing me. But what I needed? He wasn’t responding. At least not right now.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mathias
As I approached the driveway where flowers in a dozen shades drifted and bobbed in a low breeze and the lawns were perfectly laid out and square cut in their emerald splendor, my heart skipped a beat.
The house stood in the middle of it all like a rectangular piece of cake, three stories, black and white with bright windows that shone in the afternoon sun.
When I reached the front door, it took me a long time before I pushed the button for the chime that alerted the household to a visitor.
I heard footsteps approaching from beyond the door. The golden handle rattled.
When the door opened, Reilly greeted me as expected, wearing his formal black suit with the tails and a jaunty red bow tie. He’d worked for Father since before I was born. More than thirty years.
“Mathias.” His voice came cold as if forged from the interior of the home itself. “Is Master Vandergale expecting you?”
Reilly stood to the side in his high-handed polite way, as if graciously allowing me to enter the place that was my own fucking birth-home.
“No.” I could compete with him and win in tone for cold and clipped if I wanted to. I moved briskly past him, almost but not quite brushing him with my shoulder.
“You might have to wait to see him, then. He’s in his office. He’s had a lot of meetings today, both in person and online.”
Father had an arsenal of tactics. I knew them well. One of them was to pretend he was busier than he actually was so he could put people off, make them wait, which allowed time for them to over-think their positions and gave Father the upper hand. It worked pretty much every time.
