I glare at him as the last of my patience dissipates. “No. I can’t, actually.”
I get into the car and slam the door, and ten minutes later Tristan and the boys amble out of the house. I watch as he talks to Michael as the boys all listen, and then finally they get into the car.
The boys are all excited and talking about everything they have just seen.
Tristan gives me a sideways glance, annoyed with me.
“What?” I snap.
“Don’t give me what,” he growls as he pulls out into the street. “You didn’t even look at it.”
“I don’t have to. I’m not moving from my home in Long Island.”
“It’s too small for us.” He rolls his eyes, as if I’m an idiot, and my blood begins to boil.
“I want my boys to have room to have their friends over,” he asserts angrily.
Something snaps inside of me.
Wade had plans for his sons, and I can’t ignore them.
I won’t.
“They are Wade’s boys,” I bark. “You need to stop calling them your boys.”
The car falls deathly silent.
He narrows his eyes at me. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I glare out the front windshield and cross my arms, too angry to form words.
“You do know, Claire . . . that when we get married—”
“If we get married,” I fume.
“I will be adopting the boys.”
“What?” I explode. I stare at him for a moment in utter shock . . . what the fuck? He wants to adopt them. “That’s not happening, Tristan.”
“What?” he screams.
“They already have a father,” I snap.
“I want them as my sons in the eyes of the law.”
“Well, you can’t fucking have them legally. You get to live with them—that’s enough.”
“Mom!” Fletcher cries from the back. “Stop it.”
Tristan’s eyes bulge from their sockets. His eyes flick between the road and me. “So you’re telling me I can care for them, I can love them, but I can’t ever call them my sons.”
“They have a father,” I repeat. “And they will remember and respect his wishes.”
“He’s fucking dead, Claire,” he barks. “And I won’t be punished because he’s gone. I want them legally to be my sons.”
I lose the last of my control. “It’s never fucking happening,” I splutter. “They are my and Wade’s sons. Not yours. They will never be yours. I told you to find someone else and have your own children—you can’t have Wade’s.”
He punches the steering wheel as he loses control, and we all jump. Patrick starts to cry.