Page 33 of Protecting His Brat
Looking at my little girl, with her shock of dark hair just like her Mom’s, slightly darker complexion like mine, and greyish blue eyes I know most babies have for the first few weeks, I couldn’t agree more. Lacy is my light, and our daughter is a piece of her. A ray of light.
“I love it, Lace. Iliana it is.” I kiss Lacy on the forehead, then do the same to Iliana. My heart is so full, it aches.
Iliana finally finds what she’s been looking for and latches onto her mama’s breast with no problem. It’s just about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.
A nurse comes over and checks out the baby and talks about the latch and how to make sure it is good and how to correct it if it’s not. A lot of it goes over my head to be honest, but I make a mental note to go over that section of our baby book again so I can support Lacy.
“Looks like you are going to have a champion eater here. She’s got a strong suckle and got her latch right on the first try. Got a little piglet on your hands.” The nurse looks fondly down at my wife and baby and completely misses the annoyed expression on Lacy’s face.
“Hey, lady, we’re trying to not give our daughter an eating complex, so how about you lay off the name calling.” The baby snorts as if she’s agreeing with her mom but was probably just a misplacement of nose against boob.
With her jaw on the floor, the nurse backs up out of the danger zone of Mama Bear Lacy Flores.
Chuckling to myself, I lean over to kiss Lacy full on the lips. Pulling back, I look at her tired eyes, sweaty hair, and makeup free face. “You are the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet. And everyone on the planet better watch the hell out if they try to hurt our baby.”
“Damn straight.”
I couldn’t love this woman anymore if I tried. Though I’ve been thinking that same thing for the past five and a half years. I expect I’ll have the same thought for the rest of our days. And I’ll always be wrong. I can love her more. And I will.
Epilogue Three
Ten Years Later
Lacy
My three little munchkins all sit in a semicircle with Marci and Micah’s two kids. The five of them all stare up at their dads as they play guitar and keep a beat on a pot one of the little monsters had been banging minutes ago. In this house, music time doesn’t mean your run of the mill nursery rhymes though. Nope, in this house, it is all cleaned up versions of Black Sabbath and Metallic, with a little Malfeesance thrown in.
It’s amazing how those kids can go from running in circles around our house screaming at the top of their lungs, to patiently sitting on the carpet and appearing to be little angels. Lies. All lies. Iliana got my attitude, but thankfully it is reserved for her parents. At school and with her friends, she is a sweetheart with a kind spirit. The twin boys who came along a year and a half after our girl are their dad through and through. They look exactly like him and have the same quiet patience. After the twins, I followed through on the no more kids thing, and I’ve never regretted the decision.
“Okay guys, let’s play the house theme song.” Micah’s beard almost hides his wide smile as all the kids screamCrazy Trainat the top of their lungs.
“Can you believe this is our lives?” Marci slings her arm around my shoulders as we watch from the kitchen as everyone sings the cleanup version of a classic Ozzy song. “Seventeen years ago, you and I were hitting the clubs every weekend. Shopping every day. Cocktails on the regular. Now you have a nomad family of five, and I host a relationship advice radio show with my husband, and our kids are attending a preppy-ass private school and have body guards.”
“I really can’t. The girl I was back then would call me a yuppy bitch and roll her eyes.” After Iliana came, we tried to settle down and stay put for a while. But it turned out we loved the road life. So we kept our home base in Brooklyn, rehabbing the entire warehouse to be our house. But we spend most the year in our huge house on wheels. We drive from town to town, Scott discovers bands he hears about on the internet for his three-year-old record label, I look for tucked away artists and designers to promote. I homeschool the kids. Me. How nuts is that? And along the way, we stop at historic sights, beaches, woods, wherever the wind takes us. Just our little family of five all in each other’s hair day in and day out.
I love it.
I grew up with nothing but distance between my relatives and I. Having everyone within reaching distance of each is exactly how I want to raise my kids.
The phone tucked in my back pocket vibrates, and I roll my eyes. “I swear, this new clothing line for Target is going to kill me. I kinda wish I had said no it.”
Marci laughs and shakes her head at me because she knows I’m lying my ass off. I jumped at the opportunity to curate a line of kids’ clothing for the chain store. But they do call way too much.
“Hello.”
“Lacy?” The scratchy voice on the other end of phone will forever be implanted in my head from that horrible day when I almost died. Agent Templeton had been the one to question me, and she’s checked up on us a few times of the years.
“Hey, Agent Templeton. I didn’t realize it was time for your yearly check in already.” I smile and head over to the kitchen island so I can hear her more clearly.
“Actually, Lacy, I’m calling with some news.”
Blood surges through my body as my heart rate picks up speed. They never caught my father, though they did catch a few of his cronies. Agent Rose died in federal custody at the hands of one of the men he had put in there previously. Scott and I started a foundation to help girls rescued from human trafficking operations to be re-acclimated to society and receive the mental health support they desperately needed.
“Lacy, your father was found dead in Stockholm yesterday.” Agent Templeton isn’t great at the whole emotions thing, but I can hear the regret laced in her voice.
For my part, I don’t know what to feel. I haven’t seen or heard from the man that sired me in over fifteen years. When I took Scott’s last name at our insane Vegas wedding, I left behind everything attached to the Falluci name. Including any lingering hope my father and I would ever have a relationship.
“How?” This is the first update I’ve gotten on my father. I told Templeton I didn’t want to know anything until they caught him. The thought of such an evil man sharing DNA with me still makes my skin crawl.
