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“Eggs?” I ask, and both men smirk.
“Ricky,” the other guy says with a respectful nod.
Neither of them looks me in the eyes.
“This is Mrs. St. James. She’s the boss. If you so much as breathe wrong around her, I’ll end you.”
“Boss,” they say in unison and nod. They’re both stoic, wearing suits, hands crossed in front of them.
“This is different from before,” I mutter.
“Everything is different,” Carson says. “But we’ll ease into it.”
“This isn’t easing.”
“No, but it’s the most vital piece. Keeping you and Charlie safe.”
Suddenly, I hear stomping behind me, and my eyes close.
“Speaking of Charlie, he’s a nosy little thing,” I mutter as I turn to find him coming right for us, and he’s holding a photo from the mantel. “Buddy, I asked you to stay inside.”
“There’s a lot of guys here,” he says with a little frown. “You better be nice to my mom.”
“Totally my kid,” Carson mutters next to me, and I can’t help but smile.
Charlie looks down at the photo in his hands and then up at Carson and tilts his head to the side, that little line that pulls between his eyebrows when he’s thinking appears, and this is the moment that I never thought would come.
“That’s my daddy.”
Okay, so we’re just jumping right into the deep end. Yanking the bandage off.
I crouch in front of him and push my fingers through his messy hair. “We have a lot to talk about, but you’re right. This is Carson. Your daddy.”
Charlie blinks at me for a second, and I can see the million questions swirling around in that smart brain of his. He turns his attention up, and Carson crouches next to me.
He’s still so damn big.
“Do you wanna go to the park with us?” Charlie asks, and just like that the tension leaves my shoulders.
My kid is so damn good.
“Sounds good to me,” Carson says with a little smile.
“I like your tattoos,” Charlie says. “I should get some.”
“When you’re thirty,” I reply with a laugh and ruffle his hair. “Come on. You still need breakfast.”
Charlie looks over at Carson. “Do you want breakfast?”
Carson’s throat works as he swallows hard, and then he nods once. “I could eat. Sure.”
“Okay.” Charlie takes Carson’s hand, as if he does it every day, and starts to walk inside.
“We’ll finish the yard, boss,” Bacon says behind me, and Carson nods but doesn’t take his eyes off his son.
My feet are rooted right here on the walkway as I watch Charlie, with his hand in Carson’s, walking toward the little house that I worked so hard for.
Carson is here.
