by Haley Travis
“Trust me, Mom, he’d understand.”
I shouldn’t have laughed, but couldn’t stop myself.
“Why aren’t you using the camera I gave you for your birthday?”
His thick, wavy hair bobbed as he spun to roll his eyes at me. “Marian is using it to shoot a music video with her stuffies.”
The music got louder as I glanced to the table fort, where the blanket was moving slightly, and the lights were turning from blue to green. It was almost frightening how technologically adept these kids were. They feared nothing, and only wanted to create more, whether video, photography, paintings, or sculptures.
“Adrian, you have three minutes, then I really need my phone.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The kids went back to their moviemaking and I laughed to myself. They didn’t even care what was for dinner, as long as they could tell us about their day and what they made.
I took two large bags from our favorite takeout place into the kitchen, kissing my wife affectionately as I went past. “Hey, sweetheart. Tell me you didn’t make dinner.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, taking one of the bags from me so that she could give me a swift kiss back. “I couldn’t text you to find out what you wanted since apparently we now live in a video production studio.”
Walking to the kitchen, we began taking the food from the bags and digging out plates together.
I chuckled. “So Marian is shooting a music video. Of course. That’s totally reasonable four-year-old behavior.”
“Is it? They make sets and everything. I can’t tell if they’re geniuses or just really weird.”
“Who’s weird?” Marian chirped, pulling herself up into her chair at the table, followed by Adrian. “We smelled Chinese food.”
“You’re both weird, because this whole family is weird,” I laughed, ruffling their hair.
Brynn set a plate with four chicken balls in front of them so they could nibble while we arranged the rest.
“Thanks for taking care of dinner,” Brynn said, stepping in my way so that I set down the cups and slid my arms around her. As always, our kiss was gentle, with an undercurrent of raw lust that took my breath away.
“Undignified,” Marian announced.
We turned and stared at our daughter. Her auburn pigtails bobbed as she shook her head at us, looking disgusted.
“Where did you hear that word?” Brynn asked.
“Auntie Corina told me.”
“Your friends are interesting influences,” I said, smiling as we arranged the rest of the food on the table.
“Am I an interesting fluence?” Adrian asked.
“Yes,” I said as we sat on either side of our oddly precocious children. “You both are. Now, what were you two working on today?”
As our kitchen filled with laughter and incredibly detailed stories of makeshift lighting rigs and angles, I stared at the three of them. My heart nearly burst from being surrounded by so much creativity and love.
“We may have created video monsters,” I said.
“I’m actually impressed that they can plan out a video project, yet they can’t clean their rooms,” Brynn laughed.
“Maybe they can take over our jobs as soon as they hit nineteen, and we can retire,” I smiled.
I reached my hand across the table to hold my wife’s, and she flashed me that heartwarming grin that I couldn’t get enough of.
I was the first man she’d ever held hands with. The first man who’d made her pulse race. She’d given me two beautiful children who were going to take on the art world as soon as they were allowed online.
“I love you,” she mouthed, blowing me a kiss.
“I love you,” I mouthed back, dropping my eyes to her cleavage, then raising an eyebrow.
My look told her that the second our children were safely asleep, I would be showing her my love in a very undignified way.
*** *** ***
Be sure to check out the final book in the series!
C-Flat to C-Sharp
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About the Author: Romance author Haley Travis lives in a charming (old and rundown) little house with an old fashioned (overgrown and crazy) garden and just the right amount of books (six giant overstuffed shelves, the floor is starting to creak). She enjoys writing quirky, sexy modern romance, and loves creating interesting female characters who are at a turning point in their lives.
