Prince Pucking Charming
He laughs. “Yeah, well, our situation is different. You hate everyone.”
“Only select people,” I say with an attitude. “I’ll see the twins in a few hours. I can’t make any promises, but I’m sure they’ll come around eventually. They don’t hold grudges.”
He sighs in relief. “Thanks, Duke. I appreciate it.”
“I have to go,” I say when I hear the doorbell ring. “My ride is here.”
* * *
It took five hours to pack all of Kat’s boxes into the moving van. For a tomboy, she had a lot of shit in her bedroom. I can pack at a moment’s notice. My travel bags are always light, nothing of any importance to take with me. But Kat apparently is a collector, or more like a hoarder. She has five colors of every shirt, which I don’t understand. Why do you need the same shirt in multiple colors?
Theo and Travis are in the living room, kneeling on the floor in front of the ninety-inch flat-screen television. They click buttons on the gaming remotes, yelling at each other about getting a wand to advance to the next level. How are they related to me? The twins are mentally about Max’s age. When I was their age, I was already in the NHL and had better things to do with my time.
Austin plops down on the couch next to me. He hands me a water bottle and then sips from the one in his other hand.
“I talked to Dean,” I say.
He nods in approval. “How did it go?”
I roll my shoulders. “Okay, I guess. He’s asking Dad to marry Kat,” I say in a hushed tone.
“I like Dean. He’s a good guy. Old school.”
“He got Kat pregnant, Aus. He’s not that great.”
“It was an accident, Duke. They didn’t plan it. Stop being a prick about it.”
I roll my eyes. “We both know you can’t accidentally get a girl pregnant. He knew what he was doing.”
Austin takes a long sip from his water bottle. “Let it go. Our nephew will be here in a few months.”
“Nephew? I thought it was too early to know the sex.”
He rolls his shoulders. “Kat swears it’s a boy because she’s craving salty foods instead of sweets. And because she’s carrying low.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Isn’t that kind of stuff based on folklore?”
“There’s no science to prove it.”
“I better be the godfather,” I say.
“No, way,” Austin challenges, “I’ve been driving between St. Louis and Chicago to take Kat to her appointments. It should be me.”
Austin sat in every waiting room with Kat and the twins, wiped every nose, and nursed every fever.
“I’m the oldest,” I shoot back. “So, I get dibs.”
“Don’t be a dick, Duke!”
Dad and Kat step into the living room, and he clears his throat to gain our attention.
Kat’s eyes find mine, and she shakes her head. “Are you guys fighting over who will be the baby’s godfather?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I think it should be me. I’m the oldest and—”
“Look, guys,” Kat says. “Can you not fight over this? I’m tired, I don’t feel good, and stress isn’t good for the baby.”
Austin lunges off the couch, rushing over to her side. He glances down at her stomach. Her belly has grown since the last time I saw her. The girl I raised is a woman now, though, some part of me will always think of Kat as a little girl.