Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

Silence bleeds in the air before Maximoff fills the quiet. “For a second,” he whispers, “I imagined that was my mom—and everything went black.” That’s why he walked away.

I clutch his sharp cheek. “Your mom is definitely one of a kind.” I smile softly. “Which means Ripley has a really cool grandma.”

Maximoff stares faraway. Almost haunted.

“Where’d you go?” I wonder.

He blinks a few times, shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

I feel like it might have something to do with the guardianship. He’s moral and good, and unlike me, he won’t bring up our positions in Ripley’s life right after we just learned about Tina’s death.

I don’t push it. Instead, I just take his hand and we return to bed.

31

FARROW KEENE

The next morning, Maximoff wastes no time visiting his favorite place in the new penthouse. Early light bathes the private rooftop terrace, home to a sparkling blue pool, greenhouse garden, and gray stone patio.

I shut the terrace door and see Maximoff walking in the shallow end of the pool, his arm wrapped tight around Ripley’s waist. The baby tries to kick his legs in the water, and my lip begins to hike up, then falter.

See, we haven’t talked about the phone call last night. I was pulled away a few hours ago, and now that I’m back, I pry the earpiece out of my ear.

Maximoff’s brows crinkle at my black workout shorts, glistening shirtless chest, and sweaty hair. “I thought you had a security meeting at Studio 9. Not a boxing match.”

“It’s called multitasking.” I take a seat near them at the edge of the pool. “I can work out and be debriefed about wedding security for three fucking hours.”

“How’d that go?” Maximoff asks seriously.

“Nothing to worry about.” I tilt my head. “Except I was repeatedly told that I’m ‘off-duty’ the entire time in Capri.” It’s a little frustrating. I’m fine with taking a backseat during parts where I’d rather be less vigilant, but we’re going to be in Italy a week before the ceremony. I’d rather be the one protecting Maximoff while we’re at the airport and sightseeing along the coast.

He’s smiling like he beat me at something.

“What?” I detach the radio from my waistband, but I can’t look away from him.

“Now you know how it feels to be the prince who wants to be the knight.”

I roll my eyes, and I can’t say he’s wrong. But I’m not about to tell him he’s right. “More like I’m the knight who has to be a prince.”

He licks his lips to hide a smile.

He likes that.

I grin, and he’s a second from telling me to shut up, but our fluffy brown puppy skids across wet stone, about to spring into the pool.

He slides to a halt at the edge. Scared.

“It’s just water, furball,” I say easily.

Arkham tries again, then stops himself. He scuttles backwards, then steps forward, then back.

A laugh rumbles out of me. “Looks like we have another overthinker in the family.” I glance back at Maxiomff, and he’s spaced out. About what, I’m not sure. “Case in point…” My voice fades. I just want to pick his brain.

“Huh?” He blinks and focuses more on Ripley whose smile brightens in a high-pitched laugh. “Baby’s first swim,” Maximoff says.

“And look at that, he doesn’t hate it.” I slip my legs into the cool water.

He keeps concentration, ensuring Ripley is safe, and he only glances up to ask, “Are you jealous? He might be a natural swimmer. Not a…” He makes a show of trying to think hard. “What is it that you’re good at again?”

I splash water at him. Droplets land on Ripley’s forehead. He squeals in delight. My smile is fucking killing my face. “Your papa deserves to be splashed. Doesn’t he?”

Ripley leans his head backwards, attempting to peer up at his dad. But Maximoff uses the opportunity to do a turn in the pool, letting our son get used to the whirling movement.

Our son. His first swim. Our future. Everything is weighing on me more than I prefer. More than I like. I want to broach the topic, but I’m actually fucking nervous.

My pulse accelerates, and I glance around the terrace and wrap a mic cord around the radio. “You think Sulli will use the pool more or keep climbing?” I’m hoping if she decides to ascend a rock today, it’ll at least be an hour from now.

Enough time to where I won’t need to throw a raincheck at Maximoff.

“Right now, I’d say climb,” he answers. “She’s still trying to beat her dad’s speed-climb times, and she’s too competitive to give up.” He walks closer and Ripley grabs hold of the pool ledge near my thigh. Maximoff supports Ripley’s entire tiny body, and I brush our son’s wet, light-brown hair off his forehead.

Maximoff looks at me. “Want to get in?”