Brothers of Paradise Series

“I’m sure it’s because of a lot of things… But some of it I think is your doing,” she says. Then she looks over her shoulder, but Jamie and Emma are nowhere in sight. When she turns back there’s caution in her eyes.

I know what she’s going to say. So I save her the trouble. “I know,” I say quietly. “I know, and there will never be any of that from me.”

Her shoulders drop an inch. “I didn’t know how much she’d…”

“Some,” I say. “Enough.”

“She mentioned that you’re a lawyer?”

“A recovering one, yes.”

“Good,” she says, nodding. “Very good. You know, my granddaughter is the best thing that’s ever happened to me after Jamie. Now, she’s been saying great things about you. Crazy things too. You’re a captain? I don’t believe that. But it’s important to protect her heart, too. Because if-”

Vera’s words are cut off by a childish shriek and a jump as Emma joins us on the porch. She looks up at me shyly and then, overcoming it, raises her hands. I give her the double high five we’d started doing a few days back.

“Hi, kiddo.”

“Hello!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jamie says, digging through her beach bag. “We got everything… hi, Mom.” She looks between us. “All good?”

“Yes,” I say, at the same time her mother nods.

Jamie smiles, an exasperated one, and takes Emma’s hand. “Shall we?”This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Emma pauses at the top of the stairs and looks up at me. It’s an expectant look.

“Ah. You want to ride high?”

She nods, her double ponytails bouncing. I crouch down and she scrambles onto my back.

“You’re spoiling her,” Jamie says, but the way she looks at me… These girls are mine, I think. It settles into place with a finality that feels destined, like a pattern finally discerned. I want to give them both what they deserve, I want to be a part of their family.

I want to be chosen by them in turn.

Emma loves the new boat. Jamie is more cautious, running a hand over the aged wood. “Are you sure it’s safe? I know you want to take it out later this week, but are you sure?”

I grin at her. “How many years have I been sailing?”

“Since you could walk,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re capable. I just don’t know if the boat is.”

I catch her around the waist. “She’s got stellar bones and shows great promise. All she needs is a bit of TLC and she’ll do great.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Are you still talking about the boat?”

“Of course. I’d never call the woman in my arms anything less than perfect.”

“Smart man,” she murmurs, and kisses me. It turns into a long, heart-warming kiss, my hands tightening around her waist. Mine, my brain says.

There’s an outraged shriek beside us. “Mommy!” Emma says, and then erupts in giggles.

It’s the first time she’s seen us kiss.

I lift my head and look away, running a hand over my mouth. Shit.

But Jamie only laughs and crosses the deck to her daughter, sitting on the picnic blanket she’s brought, along with food. “I’m not allowed to kiss the captain?”

Emma giggles again and shakes her head.

“Why not?” Jamie sits next to her daughter, smiling. “Remember how I told you that I’ve become a very good friend of Parker’s? We like each other a lot.”

Emma looks at her mother with a challenging glare she’s inherited from Jamie. “Yes, but we’re on a boat,” she says, like it’s self-evident, “and you have to do what the captain says.”

Jamie laughs. “So I can’t distract him?”

Emma reaches for a grape and grins with her gap-toothed smile. She’d lost her first tooth last week and had been so proud when she showed me.

A calm settles over me, watching them. She’s okay with it. They’re okay with me.

I sit down opposite Emma. “You’re right,” I tell her. “Your mom distracted me, but she’s allowed to as first mate.”

Emma looks between us and breaks into giggles again. “Kissing!” she says, and keeps laughing.

Jamie joins in and I run a hand over my jaw, fighting a smile. “So it’s okay if I’m together with your mother? You approve?”

She nods again and reaches for a grape. “Catch,” she challenges me, before tossing it in my direction.

I guess children really are more adaptable than people give them credit for.

Two nights later they’re at my house and I’ve gotten the papers prepared. An old colleague who works with family law had looked them over to make sure every loophole was considered.

Emma falls asleep on my couch to the soft sounds of a cartoon on the TV, and in my kitchen, Jamie is baking cookies.

“Didn’t take me for a baker?” she says, smiling at me over her shoulder. I’ve been leaning against my kitchen island and watching her for the last half hour. The ease she shows in my kitchen, the happy smile, the small gestures that make my heart tighten.

“I remember a time when you swore never to do a domestic task in your life.”

She chuckles, reaching for the sugar. “Yes, well, it’s easy to have radical opinions when you’re fifteen. Look at me being domestic now,” she says, and slowly pours a cup into the mixing bowl.

“Gorgeous,” I say.

She chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re going to inflate my ego, you know?”

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it,” I say. “Do you know how long it’s been since someone baked in this kitchen?”

“No? How long?”

“Previous owner.”