Well, shit. There was no arguing with her logic. She nailed it on the head. They were too young to understand how I’d trusted the wrong people and how, because of that, it had cost me seven years with them. Maybe one day we’d explain what happened in greater detail.
“You’re right, Reagan. But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Where you gonna sleep?” Rogan smirked. “You can’t hab my bed.”
Jesus, this kid. Sloane wasn’t joking when she said Rogan would be the wild card. He was hurt, rightfully so. I kept having to remind myself to walk a mile in his shoes. It had to be confusing to suddenly have a father when you never had one before. They’ve been a family of three, and there I was, asking him to make room for a fourth. No oneexpected him to hand over his love or his trust immediately, but he was bound and determined to make me work for both. I’d do it, without hesitation, because whether he believed me or not, he owned me just as much as his sister did.
Reagan leaned forward, glowering at her twin. “Stop being mean, Ro.”
“I’m not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
Their back-and-forth kept going, like a never-ending tennis match. Neither one of them was willing to admit defeat. It was maddening. I was seconds away from intervening when Sloane caught my eye then pointed toward the kitchen. We slipped out of the room, leaving the twins to continue their argument.
“Sometimes, you have to let them figure it out on their own.”
“And if they don’t?” I asked.
She donned a mitt, pulling a silver tray from the oven. My mouth watered when the combined scent of chocolate and peanut butter wafted through the air. I’d always been a sucker for anything she baked.
“Distraction by dessert.” Sloane winked, then hollered, “Who wants cookies?”
I’d never seen anyone move faster than Rogan and Reagan did as soon as the words left her mouth. They flew to the kitchen, hovering over the tray of gooey goodness like predators protecting their kill. I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t been trying to figure out how I was going to snatch one or two myself without getting my fingers bitten off.
In the end, Sloane implemented a three-cookie rule,which didn’t go over well with the twins if their grumbling meant anything. While we ate our snack, I tried to engage the kids in conversation, asking simple questions about their favorite food or favorite subject in school. Reagan was eager to respond while Rogan did his best to ignore my existence. There was one final trick up my sleeve, although it was a toss-up as to how it would be received. With nothing else to lose, I went for it.
“I brought something for you guys. Would you like to see?”
“A present?”
Reagan bounced on her toes gleefully, but it was her brother I watched out of the corner of my eye while I moved to grab my purchases. He was intrigued at least. That was something.
“In a way.” I hefted the bags onto the kitchen counter and began searching until I found what I was looking for. Pulling out two gift-wrapped boxes, I sat them down in front of the kids. “Go ahead. You can open them.”
Note to self: my son loved presents. Despite his previous indifference, Rogan tore through the wrapping paper with enthusiasm. When he finished, his ice-blue gaze shot to mine, holding me captive. A myriad of emotions engaged in a war behind those expressive eyes; skepticism, longing, fear. I knew them well. I’d lived them, though it was the last one which left me raw. It was like looking into a mirror from my past. He was me, in miniature form.
“You got us a camera?”
Nodding at his quiet question, I held his stare, unwilling to break the moment, even when Reagan squealed loud enough to pierce my eardrum.
“Photo albums too.”
His brain worked overtime, trying to figureout the motive behind my gifts, but––God willing––he’d never know what it felt like to think your future was buried six feet under. By some miracle, Sloane and I had been given a second chance at the family we talked about having nine years ago. That was my only motivation, to live the life we always should have had.
Finally, Rogan gave in to his curiosity. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want us to forget a single memory we make together from this moment forward.”
Sloane
Hold it together, Sloane.
Hold. It. Together.