“I want a room,” he told me, his chocolate-brown eyes focused on me.
“You can share Belle’s,” I whispered, careful not to talk to loudly, but Belle heard me loud and clear.
“Nu-uh.” She shook her head back and forth, her hair whipping her in the face. “This is my room.”
“It’s a huge room,” I told her with a raised brow. “We can split it in half and decorate it however you want.”
Belle looked away and narrowed her eyes around the room. “Can I paint it black?”
“Black?” Lola screeched. “Jes—”
“If you want.” I shrugged and tickled Asher’s stomach. “And you, big man?”
“Me big man.”
“Yep.” I nodded and ran my hand over his dark-brown hair. He looked so much like our dad already, and he was only four years old.
“Gween.” He pointed at a wall. “I want gween gwass.”
“You got it.”
“I just can’t even with you three,” Lola said, her tone that of someone who was half fed up but she couldn’t mask the smile building on her face.
“Me?” Dad asked, pointing at his chest.
“No.” Lola looked up at him. “Those terrors.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at us. “But don’t even get me started on you, Brody Easton.”
“Ohhhh, Dad’s in trouble,” Belle whispered, or at least tried to. With the room empty, her voice echoed off the walls.
Dad’s brows lifted. “What did I do?”
“If you’re asking that, then I’m not even going to bother telling you.” She puffed out a breath. “I’m going to walk around to Jan and Aria’s, see what they’re getting up to and get away”—she waved her hand in the air—“from here.”
“Aria?” Belle perked up. “I want to see Aria.”
“Me too!” Asher screamed down my ear and squirmed to get down. The kid had no sense of danger and tried to leap from my arms.
“Of course you do,” Lola said and held her hand out to Asher. “Come on, if you’re good, I’ll take you to get ice cream.”
They both cheered as they exited, their chatter following them as they left the house. My new house was only a couple of blocks from Aria’s apartment complex, so it would only take them a few minutes to get there.
I turned to look at Dad. “What did you forget?”
Dad grinned and stood next to me, staring at the graffiti on the wall. “Nothing. She just thinks I forgot it’s our anniversary.” He chuckled. “I’m taking her out for the night. Which reminds me, can you watch Belle and Asher?”
“Sure.”
“If I only ever teach you one thing, let it be this, son.” Dad gripped my shoulder, his features pulled into a serious expression. “Never forget birthdays or anniversaries.”
“That’s all you want me to know?”
“Yep. It’ll save your life.”
Chapter Four
ARIA
Wednesdays were family days. No matter what shift Mom was working, we always had a family meal. It had started out when I was six, and eleven years later, we continued the same tradition. The only difference now was that Sal joined us.