Cruz (Hot Shots 2)

“Ma, ma, ma, ma,” Sailor says on repeat. I walk out of the kitchen. “Yes, baby boy?” I respond to him even if he doesn’t really know what he’s saying.

“Unh,” he mutters. His little arms are up in the air, wanting to be picked up.

“Yeah, it’s time to change your diaper, huh?” I usually do this right after he wakes up, but he didn’t feel that wet and sometimes he’s known for going right after I change him. I look at him, that grin of his father’s he has, and yep, it’s definitely time to take care of business. I keep things readily available for me and Mari, so I grab the things Sailor needs—diaper, wipes—and then tackle my boy and his dirty diaper. He tries to wiggle away, which is why I rarely use the changing table anymore. The thought of him getting hurt because I was trying to save my own back, yeah, that’s a no-go. I make a mental note while changing him to donate the changing pad to the local womens’ and childrens’ shelter along with the clothes Sailor has outgrown.

“There you go. All done.” He beams a megawatt smile at me. My legs are tucked beneath me while Sailor stands on his own. I’m clapping for joy, ready to yell out my excitement, when the doorbell rings.

“You’re getting so good at that. Do you think that’s Mari?” I ask him. He giggles. I stand up, picking him up, and we head for the door.

It doesn’t take us too long until we’re at the door. I open it and say, “Hey, Mari. Did you forget something?” Only my eyes must be betraying me, because in front of me stands the man I tried my hardest to find. Even though he brought in some douche nozzle to kick me out of the hotel room after our night, I still did what I could to try and find him.

“Cruz.” My voice cracks. I didn’t think he’d find me this quickly, but with a name like mine, him being in the town we now live in, it was only a matter of time. I guess it’s time to pull my big girl panties on and face him. There’s no time like the present, even if it is in front of our son.

7

Cruz

“Hijo de la gran puta.” Son of a bitch. The words are out of my mouth before I can take them back. The woman of my dreams is standing in front of me with a child on her hip, and not just any child either. No, it seems Luna went off, left me, and didn’t bother to fucking tell me something else.

“Cruz.” One arm is holding a little boy, if I’m not mistaken, which I’m pretty damn sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, considering the little boy is my twin. Not right now, but from the pictures my mother has saved over the years and still proudly displays on her walls. The little boy smiles at me. He’s so much like me, the resemblance is undeniable. His hands are reaching out for me to take him from Luna. He’s got light blond hair, my eyes, but he has Luna’s lips and nose, not to mention her calm demeanor.

“Can I?” I ask. The giant elephant in the room can wait. Right now, this little boy that I don’t even know is all that matters.

“Sailor. That’s his name,” she breathes out but nods her head, and our son launches himself into my arms. I smirk. The play on words is something Luna would do. I may have had less than twenty-four hours with her, most of it spent achieving the next orgasm, in between, though, it was filled with jokes and laughter.

“Why don’t you come on in? No need for this to happen on the front porch.” I may have our son in my hands, but I’m fully aware of Luna.

“Okay.” She turns around. My boy and I follow his mom, and Luna may not know it yet, but fuck, I’d follow her anywhere. I take in the home she created for Sailor and herself. It’s a cute little place, perfect for the two of them.

“We have a lot to talk about, but do you mind if we wait until he’s asleep?” She gestures to the living room, sitting on the floor next to what seems to be Sailor’s toys that are pouring out of the soft baskets. Some toys are on the ground, others are falling out of them. Fuck, Luna has done this all by herself. The pregnancy, the night feedings, the lack of sleep, the diaper changes. And I had no fucking idea.

“Yeah.” My voice comes out strangled, emotion welling up inside from these thoughts alone.

“Which one is your favorite?” I ask Sailor as I place him on the ground, sitting down with him. Neither Luna nor I talk to one another. Her eyes are glued to Sailor. He crawls over to some kind of plush toy, his face lighting up when it starts singing.